“How could someone do that to a kid?”
“Other kids went through worse. I was actually very lucky.”
Lucky. Right. If having your heart broken as a child was lucky. “Did you find another family?”
“I was bounced around. But it didn’t hurt. Not like that first time. You learn not to let it.”
“How could it not hurt?”
“That’s the secret of cynicism. It’s strong. Like a suit of armor.” Although her eyes were dry, she brushed them with the back of her hand. “They say you should be grateful for the time you have with someone. But I’ve never been able to do that.”
Bryce knew she wasn’t just talking about her first foster family. She was talking about her sister. “I’m not known for being grateful, either.”
Sylvie searched his eyes.
“I lost my brother recently.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Of course, she didn’t. She didn’t know anything about him. But for some reason, he wanted her to. At that moment he wanted her to know everything. “I had twenty-nine years with my brother. And all I feel is anger that he’s gone.”
“How did he die?”
“It was ruled a hunting accident, but...”
“You don’t agree?”
“He was murdered. I just can’t prove it.”
“I’m so sorry, Bryce. Is that the case you’re working on? The one you thought Diana could help you with?”
“Yes.”
“How could Diana help?”
“I… I think I was wrong about that.”
He needed to tell Sylvie the rest. But something stopped him. It seemed cruel to delve into the story of Tanner’s death just as she was waiting to hear if her sister had suffered the same fate. Probably at the hands of the same man. And if Bryce was being honest with himself, he’d admit that the part of him that agreed to represent Ed Dryden was a part he never wanted Sylvie to know.
“Are your parents still living?” Sylvie asked.
“My mother is. She lives in a skilled-care facility here in town. But she doesn’t really remember Tanner, or me. His death never registered.” A fact for which he was grateful.
“I’m so sorry.” Sylvie slipped a hand over his. Her skin was so warm, so soft.
The ache in his gut spread into his chest. He hadn’t talked to anyone but Tanner about their mother’s illness. How her memories had slipped away, bit by bit, until she hadn’t even recognized her sons anymore. “I visit her, even though she doesn’t know who I am. I take her for walks, pretend she’s still there. She loves looking at the gardens. She’s never forgotten her love of flowers.”
Sylvie watched him, her expression soft and sad. As if she was absorbing his heartache and making it her own.
As if she needed more.
“I don’t want to talk about my mother.”
“Why not?”
“I stayed to help you.”
“You are helping me. Talking is helping me.”
He looked at her dubiously.
“I’m sure your mother remembers you. Somewhere deep, I’m sure she senses you’re special. I think it’s like that with family.”
“You’re not so cynical, after all.”
She shrugged. “I have my moments.”
Bryce smiled. “Maybe she does have some idea, however vague. Some days I like to think so.”
“I’m sure of it. Families just get used to taking those feelings for granted. That connection. But that doesn’t mean it’s not there.” Her lips curved in a wistful smile. “Tanner. That’s a nice name.”
It sounded nice when she said it. “He was a great guy, for a little brother.”
“How much younger?”
“Three years. But he might as well have still been a kid collecting strays. I think he lived for pro bono work.” The ache inside Bryce grew, filling his body and mind until it hurt to breathe. He’d tried so hard not to remember how it used to be with Tanner, with his mom. He’d focused on everything else—investigating Tanner’s murder, building a case, plotting revenge—all so he didn’t have to feel this kind of pain. To acknowledge his guilt. To recognize he was now alone in the world. As alone as Sylvie.
The only difference was that he deserved it.
He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t stay to relive my own regrets.”
“Not all your memories are regrets.”
He hadn’t realized that, but she was right.
“You helped me, too,” she said.
“I don’t see how.”
“By showing me it’s possible to survive, to go on, even if…” She shook her head. “You know, even if I’m alone again.”
Bryce knew he shouldn’t touch her, but he couldn’t help it. Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he gathered her close. Her body felt warm and delicate. Her hair smelled like spiced flowers. He soaked her in, as if absorbing her essence would fill that empty place inside him… and blot out all he knew about himself.
“You’re not alone, Sylvie.”
Pivoting toward him, she buried her head in the crook of his neck. Her body trembled against his side and the first trickle of tears seeped into his shirt collar.
Sylvie
Sylvie closed her eyes. Bryce’s embrace felt so good, so right, she wanted to soak it in. But she also knew it couldn’t last.
She stepped back, out of his arms. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to get so upset.”
“That’s not something you have to be sorry about.”
“Well I am. And thank you for staying, but I’m okay now.”
Bryce crooked an eyebrow. “You’re back to getting rid of me again?”
“It’s late.”
He glanced at his watch. “Oh, I didn’t realize... Listen, I’ll see you first thing in the morning.”
“I’ve already taken enough of your time.”
“You are trying to get rid of me.” Bryce tilted his head as if to study her from another angle. “We’re supposed to be working together. I thought we agreed. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“Not buying it.”
Sylvie didn’t want to dwell on her feelings. Not tonight, at least, when she was teetering so close to tears. But she supposed Bryce deserved an explanation, so she’d do her best to give him something.
“I guess… I just don’t believe…” There it was, the burn she felt in her sinuses, a warning that tears were on their way.
“You don’t believe… what?”
How could she explain? “There’s just something… Something I always come back to.”
“What?”
“Why are you really helping me?” she finally blurted. “And don’t give me some line about a confidential case. I really need to know.”
He paused.
Debating how much to tell her? Or coming up with a story? Sylvie wasn’t sure.
“I’m representing the family of one of Ed Dryden’s victims.”
Sylvie’s stomach hollowed out. Tears felt as if they were pressing at the backs of her eyes. She felt Diana was still alive—she really did—but what if she was fooling herself? “And you believe Diana is also a…”
“I believe Diana might be able to give me some insight into Dryden. That’s why I want to help you find her.”
Sylvie’s knees wobbled a little. “So you think she’s alive.”
“You said you felt she was.”
“I do.”
“Then why would I doubt that?”
Sylvie’s knees wobbled a lot.