Brax (6 page)

I straightened my back. Even on my knees, she had to tilt her
head to keep my gaze. And she did keep it, her eyes filled with a strange
mixture of trust and fear. My heart felt hollow knowing I’d only earned one of
those emotions from her so far.

“Please,” she said. “I’m asking you again. Please. Help me.”

I knew I should turn her away. I could tell myself I was
different. My club had changed. But the truth was, I knew what was inside of
me. When the time came again, and it always did, I’d be the thing someone
else’s innocent sister feared.

But Nicole didn’t back away. She rose slowly to her feet,
leaving me on my knees in front of her. It was my turn to look up at her. She
held her hands out again; those tentative fingers hovered near my face. Then
she threaded them through my hair, sending a shudder of electricity straight
down my spine. I pulled her to me, circling my arms around the back of her
legs. She curved her body around mine, leaning down until her lips touched the
top of my head and she kissed me.

Chapter Eight

Nicole

I froze. Suspended in time with Brax on his knees before me, pulling
him close. He’d tried to scare me. Show me the darkest parts of himself. I
should have run. I should have seen that maybe he was just another side of the
same coin that led my brother into trouble. And yet, when Brax tilted his head
and looked up at me, my heart seemed to break with his and for his in a
thousand jagged pieces.

I sank to the floor in front of him and we stayed like that,
nearly nose to nose for what seemed both an instant and an eternity. Finally,
Brax slowly rose and held out his hand toward mine.

“Come on,” he said, his voice ragged with an emotion I
couldn’t quite place. “You need a drink and so do I.”

I let out a little laugh and took his hand. He led me into the
kitchen on the far side of the room. This place.
His
place shocked and
thrilled me. He’d built himself a fortress on the side of the hill overlooking dense
forest and a small pond. He hadn’t told me, but I imagined each finished pine
beam had been placed there with his own two hands. I didn’t claim to know him
well. Not fifteen years ago, not now. And yet, I felt him in this house and its
rugged, rustic charm.

“I’m amazed,” I said as I slid onto one of the high-backed bar
stools at the kitchen island. Brax had copper pots hanging from hooks attached
to a massive light fixture adorned with curving antlers. I imagined him cooking
with those pots and a new spark lit within me. This man was full of mysteries.
Some dark and dangerous, some wonderful. “You built this yourself.”

Brax nodded as he reached under a shelf on the island and
pulled out a label-less bottle of red wine and two stemless glasses. He
uncorked it and poured a glass for me. It was smooth going down, but with a
kick of spice I couldn’t place. It was delicious and strong and warmed me from
the inside out. I raised the glass and took another sip.

“So you’re a builder, a bar owner,
and
a vintner?”

Brax shrugged. “It’s just a hobby. I’ve been thinking about
introducing a label for the bar.”

I set my glass down and looked at this man in yet another new
light. One I was tempted to like very much. But I couldn’t forget what had
brought me to him and what had happened all those years ago when I gave into passion
that seemed to burn me from the inside out.

Brax sat down on the chair next to mine, turning it so he
straddled it backward. He poured me another glass though I hadn’t quite emptied
the first one. If I finished it, I’d be buzzed hard. Sensing my reservation, he
set the bottle down.

“We need to have a real talk, Nicole. And I think you need to
make time for it.”

I looked out the bay window. Full dark had fallen. It had to
be well past dinner. God, I’d left Melinda and the others alone in the parlor.
“I have to make a phone call,” I said, reaching into my pocket. I rose from the
table and walked toward the window for a little bit of privacy.

Melinda answered on the third ring and I could hear the
laughter and clinking glass of a full floor behind her. The after-dinner crowd
was in full swing. Melinda hesitated when I asked her if she could handle
closing without me. It was something I’d never done in the history of the shop.
But she was more than capable and I trusted her. Thanking her for what seemed
like the thousandth time, I clicked off the call and turned back toward Brax.
He’d filled my glass again.

I don’t know what dark magic happened that night. But as I sat
with Brax at that white granite-topped island and looked into the deep pools of
his blue eyes, I let my guard down. When he asked the question everyone always
asked, I didn’t give him a shrug and my shielding smile.

“Why? Why are you putting yourself at risk for Doug? You’ve
done it a thousand times before, haven’t you? And you always end up back here.
He doesn’t change. And every time it gets a little bit worse.”

I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. Maybe it was the wine
taking over. It was a little bit of that. But it was something else too. Brax
had shown me something as he knelt before me on the couch. He’d trusted me with
a glimpse into the darkest parts of himself and dared me to back away. I
hadn’t. Partly because I needed that darkness to fight against whatever was
trying to pull Doug away from me. But partly because I needed Brax.

“He’s the only person left. The only one who knows what it was
like to grow up in the house I did. The only one who can remember my mother
before all the bad things happened.”

He narrowed his eyes at me and something occurred to me for
the first time. My God, he didn’t know. Maybe not any of it. And why would he?
He didn’t travel in the circles I did and that’s what had drawn me to him all
those years ago on the one night I let myself be reckless. He didn’t frequent
the ice cream parlor and hadn’t even remembered it was there.

Fresh hot tears welled in my eyes. I’d been so used to putting
up my defense wall, I’d forgotten what it felt like not to need it. Brax didn’t
know and probably didn’t give a shit what my family had done. He wasn’t looking
to spread gossip about it.

“What bad things?” he said, setting down his own wine glass.

I didn’t know if I could do it. I couldn’t remember if I had
ever
done it. Told anyone the story from beginning to end. My father never wanted to
talk about it. Other friends and shirttail relatives had preferred hushed
whispers behind our backs.

I squared my shoulders and looked at him. I used harsher words
than maybe I should have. Hoping to shock him perhaps. Or at least, hoping he
wouldn’t
be shocked like everyone else.

“My mother killed herself.  Cut herself with one of my
father’s filet knives in the upstairs guest-bathroom tub.”

Brax didn’t flinch. I realized then I was still wearing the
leather jacket he’d draped around my shoulders. The sleeves hung so long, they
nearly reached my knees. I could still feel his warmth wrapped around me. It
smelled of him. Leather, the hint of sweat, and that spicy male scent that
still came to me in my dreams from all those years ago. He didn’t say the
things people always say. No “I’m sorry. How horrible for you. You poor thing.”
Maybe if he had, I would have stopped the story then and there. For once
though, and because of that, it didn’t hurt to tell the rest.  At least, not as
much.

I reached over and grabbed the bottle of wine. This was my
third glass. By the end of it, my head would probably swim. I wanted that even
though the alarm bells rang loud in some back corner of my brain. But the bad
thing had already happened, hadn’t it? My mother couldn’t kill herself again.

“She had her own tub. That’s one thing I could never figure
out. At least, not until I got older. My dad built her one of those multi-jet
Jacuzzis. She’d sink into it every Friday night after we closed the parlor.
Instead, she picked my bathroom. How do you like that? She picked a place to do
that
where she’d know I’d be the most likely to find her.”

Brax raised a brow and picked up the bottle of wine. There was
only an inch or two left at the bottom and he raised it to his lips and downed
the rest. I watched the strong muscles of his throat work as he gulped the
liquid down. He set it down hard on the counter. Drops of wine colored his lips
bright red and I had to suppress the urge to kiss him.

“Maybe she thought of that. Maybe she knew you were the
strongest. That you could handle it better than anyone else when you found her.
That you could survive it.”

A genuine smile reached my lips. I lifted my glass and pointed
my index finger at him. “That, Mr. Anderson, was exactly her point, I think.
Like I said, it took me a while to figure that out.”

Brax shook his head and let out a bitter laugh. “Well, that’s
a hell of a fucked-up way to give you a compliment. But I suppose in a fucked-up
way you have to take it.”

I tilted my glass toward him; he picked up his empty one and clinked
the rims together. He watched me. I hadn’t meant to say anything else on the
subject. I’d revealed more to him in the last five minutes than I had to
anyone. Ever. But it was as if Brax could see into my soul or read my mind.

“You didn’t though, did you? Find her, I mean.”

I set my empty glass down and slid my palms against the
granite. For a moment, I think I was trying to hold on to the edge of the
world.

“No. I didn’t find her.”

Brax put his hand over mine. It was just a slight gesture. But
the solid warmth of his fingers against mine poured strength into me somehow. I
turned toward him, letting my eyes travel up the squared lines of his shoulder,
the rippled strength of his chest, and where the corded muscles of his neck
bunched as he swallowed hard.

“Doug did,” I said. “It
would
have been me. But I
stayed out later. It was the only time I ever broke curfew. Can you believe
that?”

I could have stopped. Maybe I should have. I didn’t.

“Nicole?” Again, it seemed like Brax could read my thoughts. I
couldn’t breathe. The room spun from more than the wine. He gathered my hands
in his. God, they were so big. It seemed like he could fit each of my hands in
the palm of one of his. But he wasn’t a giant. He was just a man sitting in
front of me asking for the truth.

“That night,” I said, my voice choked and hard. “You wanted to
take me home. I was afraid though. Even after what we did. I was worried what
might happen if anyone saw me riding on the back of your bike. So I went to a
friend’s house instead. Hitched a ride with her brother but I had to wait for
him. He was taking his girlfriend home and was late getting back. I should have
listened to you. I’ve never regretted anything we did except for that one
thing. I shouldn’t have been afraid. I should have let you drive me home. See,
if I
had
, I would have made curfew. I would have been there before Doug
got home and went upstairs.
I
would have been the one to open the
bathroom door. Just like she thought I would.”

“Jesus Christ.”

Brax moved with slow, glacial grace. He pulled me against him.
Even then, I didn’t cry. I’d done all that before. I shut my eyes tight and let
him hold me. Something slammed into place for me, like a puzzle piece. I’d
wanted this that night. After all the chaos, the harsh sirens, blinding lights
of the hospital waiting room. When it was so late it became early, I’d drawn my
knees up to my chest and sat in the middle of my childhood canopy bed alone.
I’d wanted Brax to hold me like this. Not my father. No one else. I’d wanted
Brax.

I stiffened in his arms. He held me fast as I tried to pull
away, but only for an instant. Then he let me go and I turned toward the table
again.

“I think maybe we should have had something stronger than the
wine.”

Brax laughed. “It’s not too late for that.”

I put up a hand in surrender. “No. I’m a mean drunk. An ugly
one too. You wouldn’t like it. It’s horrifying.”

This got a belly laugh out of him that sent a vibration
straight up my spine. “Well, no wonder you’re a sucker for your kid brother.
How old was he at the time?”

It felt like a yoke had been lifted off my shoulders. Though
it had grown heavy for a moment, things seemed natural and easy between us.
Brax had unwittingly shared one of the best and worst nights of my life with me
and it made me feel good that he finally knew it.

“Sixth grade. Not quite thirteen.”

Brax whistled low. “That is country-western-song-level
suffering right there.”

“I know. But it’s not an excuse. I mean, well, it is. But
yeah.”

“When did he start using?”

The air in my lungs started to sting. Again, it was in me to
minimize, cover, just like I always did. But with Brax, I knew now there was no
need. “I don’t know for sure. By the time he hit high school. Pot, at least.
For a long time I thought that’s all it was.”

“Well, it’s not just that anymore. You know that, right? You
have to believe that shit has never been the GWMC scene, but if he’s got people
like Daryl Hodges in his life, Doug’s graduated to the really bad stuff. Heroin
probably.”

I squeezed my eyes shut tight and nodded. Horrifying as it
was, it felt good to admit in a way. “I think so. I’ve never seen tracks
though. On his arms, I mean.”

Brax shrugged. “That doesn’t mean anything, Nicole. He might
not be shooting it. Or if he is, he might do it in a place you can’t see.”

“Is it too late, do you think?”

I’d wanted to ease into the question, but there it was.

“Nicole, he’s probably dealing. It’s more than just using if
he’s asking you for that kind of money and he’s gone to ground. My guess, he
lost or snorted a shipment. Now whoever he works for wants their shit or their
money. He’s on short time.”

I buried my face in my hands. “God. Tell me the truth. What
are his chances?”

Brax’s nostrils flared as he inhaled hard. Even as he got
ready to deliver news I knew I didn’t want to hear, I couldn’t help marveling
at him. Huge. Hard. Thick platinum hair that hung well past his shoulders. He
had Viking blood in him somewhere, that was obvious.