Page 73 of Breathe Me In

“Gotcha, good night, Bree.” He leaned against the car. “Thanks for joining me for dinner and for listening to me talk half the night.” He looked at his watch. “Wow, most of the night. I sure didn’t mean to keep you this long.”

“I’m happy to listen. We all have stuff we’re dealing with.” She yawned.

“Yeah, maybe next time you could share something so I don’t feel like it’s all about me.”

“Maybe.” She stepped back and gave him a clear signal that she was done.

He turned to get into the car, then looked back at her. “Call you later.” She waved as he got back in the car, and she watched him leave.

She jumped when I stepped out of the shadows. “Holy shit!” She grabbed her chest. “What the hell, Brad!”

“We need to talk.”

“Right now? I’m so tired.”

“Yeah? You obviously were busy.”

She rolled her eyes. “Look, Brad, what do you want to talk about? Can’t it wait? I really am tired.” She rubbed her arms as if she was cold.

“Something isn’t quite right with him, Bree. I know he’s a friend of my brother’s, but I think you should be careful.”

“Maybe,” she agreed, “but I’m a big girl and can handle myself. I made sure he knew I wasn’t interested in anything except friendship.” She brought her chin up.

“And I’m sure he’s looking for a friendship too.” I was being an ass, but I couldn’t help it. I’d aways been protective of her. Her eyes challenged me. “Anyway”—I held up my hands—“that’s not why I came here.”

“No?”

“Can I come in?” The cold was starting to set in, and I could see she was shivering under her coat. “I don’t want to talk about this out here.”

She dropped her head back with a heavy sigh, then turned and headed up the steps to her door. I followed her and noticed how cold and damp it was inside, so I made quick work of building a fire. She had disappeared into the bathroom, and I took a moment to check that her windows were locked.

She appeared a few moments later in loungewear. She tugged on a sweater, then gathered her long hair into a messy bun. As she slipped her feet into some slippers, she looked at me. I was glad that she was comfortable being casual with me. That had taken Sherry years to do.

“Can we make this quick? I’m barely able to form a thought here.”

I took a seat and waved her toward the couch across from me. Then I leaned forward and set the piece of barbed wire on the coffee table, and her eyes widened. I saw her throat contract as she put a hand to her chest.

“Where”—she cleared her throat—“where did you get that?”

“Your truck.”

“When?”

“Yesterday.”

She glared at me, and I saw a familiar darkness go over her. I knew the look because I’d seen it in my own eyes in the mirror. I knew how it felt too. Since the river murders, it had never really gone away.

“You had no right to take that.” Her voice was low and haunting.

I sighed. “You think I want it? Take it.” I flicked my wrist at it.

She reached for it, but her hand quickly retreated, and I had to wonder why she had it and what kind of memory was connected to it.

“You should leave.”

“I disagree.” I wasn’t going anywhere until I had answers.

“Brad.”