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“No. Damn it. Talk to me.” I spin her around and hold her shoulders, dipping my six one frame more than six inches to meet her eye to eye. “Baby, did I hurt you?”
She swallows and nods once, closing her eyes and turning her head.
“Fuck me. I’m sorry.” I pull her into my chest and wrap my arms around her, hoping my warmth pushes into her body as part of my apology. “I’m sorry, Bright. I’d never hurt you intentionally. I hate myself for it.”
I stroke her hair and feel her give up the fight. “I didn’t know I was that rough, baby. It won’t happen again. Promise.”
She sucks in a breath, pulls back to meet my eyes, and sets her shoulders. “No, you’re right. It won’t happen again.”
And I watch as the shutters drop, and she disappears behind the cold veneer I’ve come to know.
My Bright is nowhere to be seen.
* * *
March certainly comesin like a lion, but leaves like a lamb.
And, in my case, a lamb to slaughter.
April and May are no better.
She doesn’t answer my calls. In fact, they no longer ring. I dial and it goes straight to voicemail.
Not one text gets answered.
I might as well be invisible to her in group chats.
I drop by her house to locked doors and never-answered knocks. When I try, she turns Johnny Cash—always fucking Johnny Cash—to a deafening volume, drowning out anything I could say or shout through the door.
When I show up at the ranch, she busies herself with work, but always with people around. She’s never alone. Never. She’s polite… well, polite enough. She won’t look at me, won’t engage.
I don’t exist.
She’s dead behind her eyes.
By June, I’m angry. And insulted. Not only about her, but about Jon’s client and the potential infringement on the Ranger’s ranch.
I want to tell her first. Before Braxton. Before anyone.
It’s almost a compulsion. It has to be her first.
I meant to share it when I showed at her house all those months ago when Willa and Exton were going through their drama. But the shower and the shower sex and then the fight pushed all of that from my brain.
I can admit I was thinking with my dick.
And, now, I’m the dick for thinking about it for months without telling her. For not telling them. I’ve worked, behind the scenes, without anyone knowing, for hours each day to learn everything I can about environmental preserves and land trusts. I’ve researched how the state accounts for that land and how the federal government could become involved.
Jon has fed me just enough to keep pushing the research. He’s being paid handsomely, but his heart isn’t in it.
I’m pissed and becoming desperate. And desperation makes for terrible decisions.
Like the one I’m about to make.
NINE
ALL MY LORRIE MORGAN MOJO
BRIGHTON
