But I won’t, of course. She’d kept her obsession with Marcus O’Bannion to herself for nine long months. That he’d called tonight meant nothing without that context. It only means something if he’s been obsessing about me too. That the thought made her heart beat faster was pathetic. If he’d been interested, he would have done something about it. He would have called.
But he did call.
Scarlett frowned. Tonight’s call didn’t count. Tonight’s call was about helping Tala. If he’d been interested at all in me, he would have called months ago.
Like you called him? the little voice in her mind asked sarcastically.
‘Shut up,’ she muttered aloud. But it was true. She could have called him at any time over the last nine months. Why hadn’t she?
Because you’re scared.
Not entirely true. ‘I’m cautious,’ she said, intending it to come out firmly, but she could hear the defensiveness in her own voice. So? So what? ‘Anyone would be under the circum—’
Halfway up the hill her thoughts scattered, a weary groan escaping her lips. Another advantage to living on a steep hill was being able to see her own driveway as she approached. It should hold only the Tank, but right now it didn’t. The sleek black Jag parked next to her battered old Land Cruiser filled her with a guilty dread. What the hell was he doing here anyway? It wasn’t even dawn.
Like you don’t know. Why does he ever come by? And how many times would she have to tell him that it was over before he stopped? She sighed heavily. She didn’t want to deal with Bryan right now. It had been a long, long time since she’d wanted to deal with Bryan.
Unfortunately, she couldn’t hide behind her window curtains this time. You’re going to have to talk to him.
The last few times Bryan had stopped by uninvited in the middle of the night, she’d been home. Which he hadn’t known because, after spying his Jag struggling up the hill, she’d decided against coming to the door. Having no energy to rehash the same arguments again, she’d gone back to bed and pulled the covers over her head, leaving him to sit in the driveway.
The first time he’d stayed only a few minutes. But the periods of waiting had grown longer each time. Three nights ago he’d arrived a little after two A.M. and stayed almost an hour, getting out of his car at the end to pound on her door, demanding she let him in. She hadn’t fooled him. He’d known she was home. She’d been halfway down the stairs when her neighbor opened her window and shouted that she’d call the cops if Bryan didn’t stop making such a racket. A minute later his engine had roared and he’d sped away, making Scarlett feel like a worm.
You are a coward, Scarlett. It was true. She’d rather deal with a psycho killer hopped up on meth than hurt the feelings of an old friend.
She made it to the top of the hill and parked behind her Land Cruiser, careful not to block the Jag’s exit. She didn’t want to give him any excuse to linger. She got out of her car and quietly closed the door. Her neighbor still had amazing hearing despite being eighty-five years old. Not only would Mrs Pepper wake up, but the little old lady would make sure to catch every word. By dawn’s early light, the entire neighborhood would know. Her neighbors were good people, but nosy as hell. And everyone would have advice.
Still in his car, Bryan pointed at her front door, but she shook her head. The last time she’d let him in ‘just for coffee’, he’d refused to leave. It had been super-awkward.
Bryan got out of the Jag, slamming his door hard enough to make Scarlett’s teeth clench. Staying on his side of the car, he glared at her over the car’s low roof. ‘Where have you—’ he started, way too loudly.
‘Sshh!’ Scarlett pointed to the surrounding houses, all of the windows still dark. ‘Do you mind?’ she whispered fiercely. ‘You’ll wake the whole neighborhood.’
He blew out a frustrated breath. ‘I’m sorry,’ he whispered back. ‘I was just worried.’
No, she thought. He was just horny. Just like every other time he stopped by. If he was here, it meant that he was ‘between relationships’, as he termed it, but Scarlett knew better.
Bryan Richardson was a total womanizer, moving from woman to woman with ease. He made no promises, so he told no lies. Most people thought he should have settled down long before now, but most people didn’t know what Bryan had been through.
Scarlett knew, though. Because she’d gone through it right along with him. Their shared nightmare had fused them in a way that was utterly unhealthy, creating an on-again, off-again thing they’d had since college. Friends with benefits. A way to take off the edge when her physical need began to cloud her rational mind. Someone to turn to when the loneliness grew too big to bear.
That Bryan would never be her happily-ever-after any more than she would be his had never bothered Scarlett at all. Not until nine months ago, when she’d heard Marcus O’Bannion’s voice for the first time, when she’d stood at his bedside in the hospital watching him fight for his life after he’d been shot while saving the life of a woman he’d never seen before.
Why? she’d asked Marcus then.
Because it was the right thing to do, he’d whispered back.
It had changed everything. And nothing at all. She was still alone and might always be. But now what she had – or had never had – with Bryan bothered her a great deal. She’d told him that they were done, that he needed to find another port in the storm, but obviously not firmly enough.
End this now. For both of your sakes.
‘I’m a cop, Bryan,’ she said quietly. ‘Just like I’ve been for the past ten years. You’ve never worried about me in the past.’
He slowly walked around the Jag, coming to a stop an uncomfortable six inches from where she stood. ‘I’ve worried about you every day of my life since the day I met you, but I didn’t think you’d be too happy to hear it so I kept it to myself,’ he said, his voice carrying a thread of tension that went beyond sexual frustration.
Something was wrong. But then again, something was always wrong with Bryan. He had issues. Jagged scars, deep inside where no one could see. As do I. Their shared issues had been the glue that had held their relationship together. But the glue had lost some of its stick.
‘So why tell me tonight?’ she asked.
He lifted his hand to stroke her cheek, but she flinched, shifting so that he touched only air. His hand dropped to his side and his mouth curved bitterly. ‘Because I feel you moving away from me and I don’t know why. It’s been almost a year since we—’
‘Hooked up,’ Scarlett said flatly, because that was all it had been. ‘And it’s been more than a year. It’s been eighteen months.’ His confused frown made her sigh. ‘The last time was before Julie,’ she supplied dryly.
‘Oh yeah.’ His lips curved, but his eyes remained oddly distant. ‘We had a good run, Julie and I.’ His slight smile faded. ‘When it was over, I came to you, but you said you weren’t in the mood.’
That had been a month after she’d met Marcus. ‘No, what I said was that I didn’t want to hook up anymore.’ Her cheeks heated at the memory of the times she’d given in and had casual sex with him. At how little she’d expected for herself. At how very reckless she’d been. ‘I still don’t, Bryan.’
Scarlett had turned him away that night and all the other nights he’d shown up at her door thereafter. When Bryan had tried to cajole her into changing her mind, all she could hear was Marcus’s deep voice in her mind. Because it was the right thing to do.
Bryan’s gaze dropped abruptly, then winged back up a moment later, troubled. Wounded. ‘Did I do something wrong? Something to hurt you?’
Pity pricked at her heart. ‘No, Bryan. You haven’t done anything wrong and you haven’t hurt me. You’re exactly who you’ve always been.’