Page 59 of Entwined With You

Except that’s not even the deepest cut. No, I sliced even deeper when I returned years later after I’d had the luxury of oodles of time in which to gather myself. To think. To let everything I knew settle in my heart.

If I’d done that, I would have known with unerring certainty that Brax would never hurt me. Even right now, today, after knowing that I’ve once again twisted the knife, I’m certain that I can always count on him to help when I’m in danger or trouble.

That’s because he loves me.

But I didn’t look at the love. I looked at my own fear, and even as my fear faded, I still nurtured the doubts because everyone around me said I should. I wasn’t Sabrina anymore, they reminded me. I was Samantha. Sabrina was dead.

She was dead because someone had killed her. And they told me that someone was him.

Deep down, I’ve always known that he had nothing to do with the bombing. It’s simply impossible. I know him. And he would never hurt me. That’s simply not who he is.

But I let fear block both reason and love. And in doing so, I hurt the man I care most about. A man who truly loves me, and who I wounded so deeply that I was certain he’d never forgive me.

But then he called…

I smile, reliving the pleasure of seeing his name pop up on my phone screen, then hearing his voice. He called, and my entire day turned bright.

I hope he forgives me.

I hope he still loves me.

But if he doesn’t, I know it’s only myself I have to blame.

Z-Tech Data Processing is housed in a nondescript building in Santa Monica. To be honest, it’s not the kind place I would have ever expected Brax to work, but at the same time, considering all the adventures we had in our youth, maybe he was thrilled to finally settle down to something tame.

I pull open the glass door, then step inside. A young woman who’s probably barely twenty smiles at me from behind a counter adorned with the Z-Tech logo. “Can I help you?”

“I’m meeting Braxton Reed. I’m not sure where I’m supposed to go.”

“Let me check that for you.” She taps on her keypad, then looks back at me, her ultra-white smile practically glowing under the fluorescent lights. “It looks like he reserved a conference room. If you’ll follow me?”

She puts a little Please Wait sign on the counter, the leads me through a maze of workstations to a door at the back. We go through, take a service elevator down, then walk to the end of a long hallway until I find myself standing in front of a wood-paneled door labeled Conference Room C.

She opens the door and ushers me in. “He’ll be right with you.”

Then she’s gone and I’m all alone in a huge conference room with four long tables set up to form a square. A huge whiteboard hangs on one wall. And I’m struck with the perverse thought that he’s going to use a variety of colorful dry erase markers to demonstrate exactly how much I hurt him.

Oh, please no.

I’m just about to take a seat when I hear the door open. I spin around, and there he is, tall and lean and dressed in a suit, and looking as comfortable in that as he does in jeans. That’s one of his gifts—something we used shamelessly on the grift. The man can pull off any outfit.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, his long strides eating up the yards between us.

“Brax, I’m so sorry about—well, about everything. I should have trusted you from the very beginning. I knew better. I knew you. But I was scared and confused and everyone was talking at me and you were gone.”

I swallow then blink back tears. “I listened to them instead of listening to me, and if you don’t forgive me, I think I’ll hate myself for that for the rest of my life.”

His mouth curves into a smile. “Well, we can’t have that.”

It takes me a minute to process the fact that his smile is tender, his eyes are soft. And when he takes my hand and gently kisses my fingertips, I burst into tears.

“Hey,” he says, pulling me close. “Come on, baby. That wasn’t the reaction I was looking for.”

I manage to make some sort of affirmative movement with my head, but there tears are still flowing. Not because of what he said, but because of what he didn’t say. Understanding. Forgiveness.

Love.

I draw a deep breath, then step back. When I do, my tears turn to giggles. “Sorry! Sorry! It’s just—oh, hell, Brax. I made a complete mess of your suit.”