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Perhaps he was a different Barrett back then.
“No, she wasn’t, honestly. And when she told me, it was only because she let a comment slip out once and it wasn’t one of sorrow but relief.”
“What did you say?” I asked softly.
“I asked her for the details, thinking she must have been devastated, wondering why she hadn’t come to me. She said she knew I’d want to keep it and she didn’t. She said she didn’t want the argument. Said it was unequivocally her decision and not mine.”
“Barrett…” I whispered. The pain was still evident for him as well.
“I don’t have a date. Not even a month because she wouldn’t tell me anything. All I know is, I was twenty-four,” he looked me in the eye, “you would have been fifteen.”
I leaned over and wrapped my arms around his neck and squeezed.
“I’m sorry, Viking.”
He lay back bringing me with him, and hugged me back, kissing the top of my head. With my ear to his chest, I could hear his heart pounding, giving away what it meant to him to reveal that information.
He confirmed it a minute later when he said, “Thank you, Willa, I’ve never told that to anyone before.”
Several quiet moments passed, and he added, “Should we spit shake? Seal the deal?”
I laughed. “Prick our fingers and exchange blood to be blood sister and brother?”
He released a boom of laughter that shook my whole body and he squeezed me gently.
“No way, curly, I don’t feel remotely brotherly towards you.”
I laughed and reluctantly shifted off his barrel chest still covered in the blanket.
“Knew I shouldn’t have said that,” he grumbled.
Lord, I wanted to see him, but it wasn’t like I could ask for a private viewing. As if he heard my thoughts, he tossed the blanket off and rose from the bed. His back was to me as he walked to my bedroom doorway. A winged tattoo draped across one shoulder and cascaded down his arm, curving around what I knew was a Celtic style bear. Wide, cut shoulders tapered down to a lean waist. His jeans were obviously undone and hanging low on his hips revealing the top curve of his ass.
The muscles in his back undulated as he twisted around to say, “I’ll do the gentlemanly thing and leave you to pull on pants while I go find my shirt.”
I would have answered but all the spit in my mouth had dried up and I was incapable of forming words. I flopped back onto my back and heard him chuckle before I lost sight of him.
I grinned.
The wait was over and I was wrung dry. Only another hour or so to go and then it’d be all over until next year. I’d take the day off, give myself time to regroup like I did every year.
This time something new, something foreign, had taken root in me. I could not yet tell what it was, but it felt fresh, sweet, and I sensed it was inherently good.
I glanced at the clock. It was only eight and I wasn’t going in today, but he would be late if he weren’t already. I pulled on my jeans and met him in the kitchen, disappointed to see that he had indeed found his shirt.
He easily read my thoughts and I snorted at the smug look on his face.
“You’re going to be late, and I’m okay now. I’ve only got an hour to go.”
“I’m not late but I have a question.”
I nodded for him to go ahead while I prepped the coffee machine. I liked to use a coffee maker in the morning. I loved the smell of fresh coffee and the sounds of it percolating. It reminded me of my dad.
“Is the bathroom always a problem for you?”
I shook my head, not even embarrassed anymore. I’d given him everything and he’d shared in return. We were different now.
“No. Just when I’m severely triggered, which happens when I feel like things are spinning out of my control. This year, with Mara’s situation being what it is, was worse than usual. As soon as the day arrives, I’m usually okay. And, because of you, I can honestly, honestly tell you,” I turned to look at his serious face so he could see the truth in mine, “I’ve never felt this good on this day.”
