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“I was in the army with Blaine.”
Bree had always been slow to anger. Her mom used to say her daughter lived in the wrong state. She didn’t see life’s highs and lows. Instead, her emotional landscape was easy and even, more like rolling pastures than dramatic mountains. But Rylan’s words triggered a spark unlike anything she had ever known.
“You listened to me. You let me tell you what it was like when my family takes over...and the whole time...” Her hands curled into fists. “Take me home, Rylan.”
“We’re going to my ranch—”
“Take. Me. Home.” Although she tried to disguise it, anger, hurt and sorrow quivered in each word.
Rylan must have heard it too. After a brief sidelong glance in her direction, he checked for oncoming traffic. The road ahead was clear, and he swung the car onto the opposite side of the highway. They completed the return journey in stony silence.
When Rylan halted the vehicle in the Diamond parking lot, he turned to face Bree. “I respect what you must be feeling right now, but I can’t let you risk your personal safety. Someone fired a shot directly over our heads. Because we left the scene fast, I have no way of knowing what happened next. Was that a single incident, or was it an active shooter situation? I have to find out if we were the only target, or if other shots were fired.”
Through the fog of her competing emotions, Bree’s initial reaction was fear for his safety. What if the person who fired that shot had intended to kill one, or both, of them? What if he was waiting for their return?
“Can you shoot?” Rylan’s question jolted her attention back to him.
“I grew up on a farm. My father insisted on teaching me how to handle a firearm.”
“Good.” He held out his gun. “Take this. Go up to your apartment. Don’t open the door unless you’re sure it’s me, or the police.”
Bree’s feelings were in free fall. Rylan had deceived her. She wanted to cling to her anger, to wrap it around herself like a security blanket as a defense against the pain. Instead, the fear that this might be the last time she saw him pushed everything else aside.
“I don’t want—” What? I don’t want to lose you? After what he’d done, her thoughts weren’t making sense.
“Go.” Rylan leaned across her and opened the car door. “We can talk later.”
She exited the vehicle and dashed toward her apartment. It was only when she was inside, and dealing with an overenthusiastic greeting from Papadum, that she stopped to consider his words.
Rylan had destroyed her trust. What could they possibly have to talk about?
* * *
Normally, in a volatile situation, with so many unknown factors, Rylan would have been totally focused on his surroundings. Instead, as he moved from the parking lot toward the Diamond, his concentration was on the hollow ache in his chest.
These last few days with Bree had been a glimpse of everything he wanted and thought he could never have. The life he had believed was out of his reach. A woman he could love. Someone to share his hopes and dreams, to walk at his side, meeting the highs and lows with her hand in his. He had seen it all. Bright days, cozy nights. Children. Facing old age together.
He had blown it. Thrown away the future before they’d had a chance at it. The knowledge that it was all his own fault made the pain even worse.
I should have told her.
But how could he? He’d made a promise to keep his identity secret. And Rylan kept his promises.
It was at times like this that he could hear his father’s slurred, sneering words. Worthless. Weak. Never amount to anything. All true. Now, more than ever. And despite his vow to the contrary, he’d succumbed to the intensity of the attraction he felt for Bree. He had been enchanted by her, so caught up in the magic of his emotions he’d been unable to walk away. Weak? He was a living, breathing example of the word.
As he stepped onto the paved surface of the Diamond, everything appeared normal. The atmosphere was vibrant, yet laid-back, with no evidence that anything had disturbed the revelry. It looked as if he and Bree were the only people who had been affected by the gunshot.
Maintaining a careful scrutiny of the area, Rylan made his way back to the point where they had been standing. Tiny shards of glass crunched beneath his feet. He couldn’t find any trace of the bullet, but he figured it was probably embedded in the brickwork above his head. The sound had been unmistakable. Rylan, of all people, knew a gunshot when he heard one.
