Scott pulled off the rough, worn, knotted board and picked up a smooth one from the pile. He lifted the hammer out of his belt and nailed it into the side of the old red barn as his mother walked up beside him.
“Why don’t you take a break from the cold? Come inside and let me make you something to eat.” His mom rubbed him on the back. She smiled, but he could see the sad in her green eyes. He hated that look. He’d seen that look a thousand times since he’d come back home, and not just from her, but from every person he’d come in contact with. It was a look that said he was a broken, damaged, wounded man, in need of repair. He didn’t need them to fix him. The only thing in need of repair was the barn. His leg, though it was a bitch to deal with at times, was fine. The other wounds, only time could heal.
“Mom it’s not that cold. It’s like fifty-five degrees.” He leaned over the pile and grabbed another board, put it in place, and firmly nailed it in. Winters in Austin were nothing compared to the bite of the winter cold in DC. The day his plane took off and headed home, they got delayed due to a blizzard hitting the east coast. He missed his connecting flight in St. Louis and had to wait four hours to catch the next plane home.
Home. Could he even call this place that anymore? Technically, his home was back in DC—that he’d paid for and left abandoned. That didn’t feel much like home, but if he was honest with himself, neither did Texas anymore. Here he was, sleeping in his old room, doing piddly chores around the farm for his dad like he was back in high school or something. He felt like he was going to crawl out of his skin.
He had applied to a military contracting firm in DC right before he came home for the holidays. Part of it was because it’s what he wanted to do, but part of it was a “fuck you” to Tori. She had no plans to put her life on hold for him, so why should he wait on her? He planned to come home for Christmas then head back to DC right after, but two weeks turned into four, and he’d been here a month now. He wasn’t ready to go back. Even though Tori was off in New York, everything in DC reminded him of her.
“You’ve been on your leg all day. That can’t be good,” his mother pressed. “Come on inside. We have company anyway.”
“Mom, I don’t really want to see anyone,” Scott growled. “My leg is fine,” he lied. The cold was a bitch on it, and it was aching a bit. It was probably one of his mom’s friends from church, bringing more food for him and wanting to welcome him home. They would “ooh” and “ah” about the sacrifice he made and how much respect they had for soldiers. They’d hand him their homemade cookies or leftover Christmas fudge. Scott knew they meant well, but it was much more for them than it was for him. Busybodies and do-gooders with their “support the troops” stickers on their car.
“Now, I raised you better than that, and yes, I’m sure your leg is fine, but I do know it aches in the cold, so don’t try and tell me it doesn’t. Now, let’s not be rude to our company. Come visit for a bit.” His mom smiled. She had that mischievous smirk on her face that he’d inherited from her. She pulled the hammer from his hand and dropped it into the tool box and looped her arm with his. “At least say hello. I’ve got hot coffee brewing.”
There was no arguing with mom. When she said “jump,” all he could really do was ask “how high.”
“Alright, but I can’t eat another piece of fudge. I’ve gained five pounds since Christmas.” Scott teased and patted his stomach as they walked toward the Ranger.
“I’ll drive.” Scott motioned his mom to the passenger seat, turned the motor and sped off toward the house, kicking up some mud behind him as he took off. The rain from the night before had made the trek back a little trickier, but he stuck to the drier, grassy areas following his mother’s tracks out there. He parked under the large awning to the side of the house and walked through the back gate with his mother hot on his heels.
“Wipe those muddy boots off,” she ordered.
“Ok, ok…” Scott groaned as he wiped his feet off, the right much easier than the left.
His mother diverted her eyes, watching him struggle with traction on the prosthetic. “Don’t worry about it. Your dad tracked mud in earlier, and I need to mop anyway.”
“Mom, it’s fine,” he growled. Finally, he just bent over and took the damn boots off, leaving them outside the door.
The downcast look her face and the sad in her green eyes told him she regretted asking. He hated that he was the one that put that look on her face, and he wished she’d stop babying him like he was five years old again. He heaved a heavy sigh and went inside, shaking off the cold. The warm heat from the house instantly soothed him. He walked straight over to the cupboard, grabbed a mug, and filled it with fresh coffee from the pot.
As he lifted the steaming liquid to his lips, out of the corner of his eye, he caught their guest, making her way around the corner of the kitchen. The flash of blonde in his peripheral stopped him mid-sip. He snapped his head up quickly. The hair was far too long, and that familiar smile too straight in comparison to Tori’s crooked grin. It took a minute for him to register who he was looking at.
He stood there dumbfounded. “Brandi?”
Brandi Turner. He looked over to his mom, knowing full well this was her doing. His mother loved Brandi—hell, everyone loved her. She was a doll.
Images of him and her, laying in the back of his truck under the stars on a blanket as he slid his hands under her purple prom dress flooded his mind. He hated that after all the memories they shared together, that was the one that popped in his head, but it’s hard to forget your first.
Brandi was the kind of girl that other girls wished they were and wanted to hate but just couldn’t. Brandi didn’t have a spiteful bone in her body. If the girl had any faults, Scott was either too young and infatuated with her at the time to figure them out, or she hid them well. They were inseparable their last year of high school. For all of senior year, she’d been his girl. They drifted apart and fizzled after graduation, like most romances do. Back then, you were lucky to have a pager, much less a cell phone. Long-distance phone calls were expensive and few and far between the handwritten letters that rarely got sent.
Her final letter came at the end of his freshman year, and she officially broke it off. She’d met someone at college, and he felt relief, because he’d embraced the military lifestyle and had begun reaping the benefits of all the pussy that it brought to him. Yeah, he’d turned into a damn son of a bitch, and Brandi deserved better.
“Hi Scott.” Brandi’s glossy pink lips grew wider, and those deep brown eyes of hers warmed, showing off the specks of gold in the center. The knockout prom queen had turned into an absolutely stunning adult. She ran her fingers through her long golden locks. Last he heard from his mother was that she was engaged. He assumed she’d be married with at least a kid under her belt at this point in her life, but he didn’t see a ring. Her hair cascaded in soft ringlets over her pale pink sweater, stopping right at her breasts. God, those babies were fucking fantastic.
Stop staring at her tits and say something, dumbass.
“You gonna stand there all day and stare or come give me a hug?” She gave him an innocent shrug.
Scott’s mom elbowed him in the side, snapping him out of his trance. “You with us, son?” His mother teased.
Scott put down the coffee, grinned, walked over to Brandi, and wrapped his arms around her. He couldn’t help but take a whiff of her hair and, my God, it still smelled like strawberries. Many nights after a heavy make-out session, he’d come home with a heavy case of blue balls and think of that scent as he whacked himself off in the shower.
She pulled back but kept her arms on his shoulders. “Your mamma told me that you were back in town and had been working on the barn. I decided to come and save you from manual labor.” She pulled out a chair from the kitchen table and sat. God, that sweet southern twang of hers could melt butter. It transported him right back to his seventeen-year-old self, and he felt his cock tingle in response.
Scott’s mom tapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got some laundry. You two kids catch up.” His mom walked out of the room.
“Kids, seriously?” Scott groaned and rolled his eyes. “This is what I have to deal with. She still treats me like I’m fourteen, I swear.”
“Don’t act like you don’t like it, Scott. If I know you like I think I do, you are loving the home-cooked meals and having your mamma do your laundry.” She flipped her hair carelessly over her shoulder.
“Yeah, I guess it has its perks.” He laughed. “How have you been?” he asked, pulling a chair out from under the table and sitting next to her. “What have you been up to over the past, damn, eight years?” Scott laughed. Had it really been that long?
“Now you make me feel old!” Her pointed nose curled slightly when she laughed. “Doing good.” She smiled again and placed her hand lazily on her chin. “After I graduated college, I came home. I’m teaching third grade right now here in Buda, nothing too exciting.”
“That’s what you always wanted to do.” Scott grinned at her.
“Yes, long hours of grading papers and praying I don’t catch the flu from one of my students. I’m living the dream.” She giggled and nudged him on the shoulder. “How are you?” Her brown eyes turned a bit more serious, and she reached out and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.
And there was the look.
“Don’t you give me that look.” Scott’s lips tightened and he narrowed his eyes. “I get that from all the old women my mom parades through here bringing cookies and casseroles. I expect better from you.”
“Then I guess you don’t want these.” She pushed a tin can across the table that he expected was filled with something sugary sweet. “Made them myself.” She shrugged as she opened the lid and pulled out a cookie and took a nibble.
“Well, damn. Make me feel like an ass now.” Scott grabbed one from the tin can and bit off half in one bite. “Ok, these are good. Much better than Mrs. Ferguson's.”
Mrs. Ferguson was one of the old widows from their church growing up. Scott was shocked to find out she was still alive and kicking.
“Oh lord. Did she bring those awful sugar cookies?” Brandi rolled her big brown eyes.
“You mean bricks?” Scott’s eyes widened, and he snarled his nose. “I’m pretty sure her cooking his what killed her old man.”
She giggled sweetly at his off-color joke. She had a cute laugh, reserved and ladylike. He thought of Tori’s loud howl—not her polite, amused, fake laugh, but the one when she’d really get cracked up and let it all loose. Suddenly, his chest felt hollow.
Scott’s smile faded, and Brandi’s warm brown eyes flicked upward. “It’s good to see you, Scott.” Brandi reached out and placed her hand on top of his. With that one look, those puppy brown eyes staring back at him, and her warm touch, he felt a twinge of something. Possibility.
Scott brought the grin back to his face. “It’s good to see you, too.”
For the next two weeks, Scott spent every evening with Brandi, sneaking in late to his parents’ home like a silly teenager.
“It’s past curfew,” his dad teased as Scott walked into the living room.
The room was dark except for the flicker of the television set illuminating his father’s face. Somehow, in the low light like this, it made the wrinkles on his dad’s face that much more prominent—a reminder that his dad was getting older and he needed to cherish moments like this.
“Very funny, Dad. Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?” Scott sighed and slumped into the sofa across from his dad’s recliner.
“Hey, I’m not the grown man still living with his parents.” His dad’s brow went up to his hairline. Scott just rolled his eyes. His father knew full well he wasn’t living there—well, not technically. “Couldn’t sleep, catching the highlights on Sports Center.” His dad nodded to the TV. “Looks like it’s going to be the Steelers and Packers in the Super Bowl this year.” His dad, the die-hard Cowboys fan, seemed disgusted at that. “I was hoping since Cowboys fired Phillips that they could contend. Such a shame since it’s at Cowboys stadium this year.”
“We could still go.” Scott lifted his palms. “Root for the Steelers.” A smirk tugged at Scott’s lips. His father hated the Steelers.
His dad scoffed at that prospect. “You’ve been living on the east coast far too long. It’s impaired your judgement.”
Scott laughed. Wayne Harris vehemently hated the east coast, although he was pretty certain his dad hadn’t spent much time there. If his father had, he would have grown to enjoy it like Scott had. It was a different pace of life and, honestly, Scott missed it.
“How’s Brandi?” His dad raised his brow.
“Good.” Scott nodded.
“Just good?” His dad cocked his head to the side. “You’ve been out with her every night for the past two weeks. You know, you’re a grown man. You don’t have to come home at night, regardless of what your mamma thinks. She’s all bark and no bite.”
Scott nodded. “Just taking it slow, being cautious,” Scott explained. Brandi had asked him to stay over that night. It wasn’t like he hadn’t sealed the deal yet. He just wasn’t ready to share a bed with her.
His dad huffed and let out a chuckle. “That doesn’t sound like you one bit.”
“I’ve changed.” Scott shrugged. Yeah, he was a bit rougher around the edges and more jaded now. Deployment does that to a man, once you see humanity at its worst. Still, he missed the desert. He missed the action. Scott had never been one to take anything slow. He always went after what he wanted. The problem was Scott had no clue he wanted.
Just like him and Tori—fucked the first night they met, and it had been a firestorm ever since. A beautifully destructive creature, she was. He was drawn into her blaze, and something about him and her together made her burn even more fiercely.
“Bullshit.” His dad scowled.
Scott opened his palms up. “Brandi’s great. In fact, she’s the best.” Scott really couldn’t find a damn thing wrong with the girl. She was beautiful, kind, loving, and sweet. She cared about other people more than she did herself. She wasn’t a bit selfish. She’d make a great wife and mother.
“Yes, that she is,” his dad cut him off. “And she doesn’t deserve to be led on by you.”
“Dad, it’s been two weeks.” Scott rolled his eyes. It wasn’t like he was ready to put a ring on the girl.
“That’s not what I mean.” His dad looked him square in the eye. “This isn’t what you want.” His dad motioned around him. “You were always bigger than Texas.”
“I do have a place, Dad,” Scott reminded his father.
“Yet you are here, hiding from I don’t even know what, doing stupid chores around the farm that I could easily do, and fooling around with Brandi.” His dad leaned forward on his elbows.
“If things work out with her, and I get that contracting job, she could move back to DC with me,” Scott suggested. It looked promising. He’d done an interview via conference call just that morning. Now it was on to background checks, security clearances, an in-person interview, and, of course, the physical and psychological testing. That seemed to be their only hang-up. They were concerned about the leg and PTSD.
His dad frowned. “Do you see that small-town girl moving to the city, away from her home, her family, and the roots she’s put down here, while you go off for months and years at a time?”
“You and mom did it,” Scott protested. “It could work.”
“Yeah, we did. We spent time away from each other during deployments, and it’s hard. Damn hard. Your mom is something special. It takes a lot of love, loyalty, and sacrifice to make that work—not just from her. I had to be willing to give up my career when your mom needed to stay put. It’s give and take, Scott.”
Scott scratched his beard. Brandi would be loyal. She’d love him. Hell, she’d probably sacrifice everything to follow after him. He could see that just in the past few weeks of being with her. The question Scott had to honestly ask himself was, would he do the same for her?
“Your mom may have rose-colored glasses on when it comes to you and Brandi, but we both know she’s not the one for you, Scott. The longer you let this go on, the more you’re going to hurt that sweet girl.”
“I have to head back to DC on Friday,” Scott said as he sipped his wine and sat it down on Brandi’s coffee table. What he really wanted was a glass of whiskey. Brandi didn’t drink anything other than wine, though, and that’s all she ever kept in the house. He’d have to bring over his own next time.
He’d found her first fault—doesn’t drink whiskey. Ok, that wasn’t a deal breaker. Lots of girls didn’t like the stuff. Hell, Tori didn’t even at first.
Stop looking for faults, he told himself.
He rubbed his fingertip on her wrist that hung lazily on the back of the sofa.
“Oh, is that for the job?” Brandi asked, seeming a bit deflated.
“Yeah, it’s the interview with the contracting firm.”
“You know, I’ve never been to DC,” Brandi said and casually sipped her wine. “It would be nice to go with someone who’s familiar with the area.”
Well, that was a huge hint she just dropped.
Scott smiled and looked down at his lap. “Well, now isn’t really the time of year for sightseeing in DC. It’s bitterly cold,” Scott warned. “All of the monuments would pretty much be off the list unless you are a glutton for punishment. A weekend wouldn’t be near enough time to go through all the museums.”
“Well, I guess we’d just have to find something to do indoors.” Brandi grinned, leaned in and planted her lips on his. Warning bells went off in his head. You’re going to hurt this girl. Damn his dad for getting in his brain the other night. He was having a good time with Brandi, blowing off some steam and seeing where it would lead. Why did there need to be so much pressure? It takes time to fall for someone and find out if you’re compatible. Sometimes, people got hurt in the process. Hell, Brandi could damage him just as much.
Scott laced his fingers through the back of her hair, tugging on it slightly. She chuckled and pulled back a bit.
“How about we take this to the bedroom?” she suggested.
“Or I could bend you over here on the sofa,” Scott growled as he drew her in close, kissing her deeply.
“Fine by me.” Brandi tugged on the bottom of his shirt. With one swift yank at the back of his neck, he pulled it off over his head and dropped it to the ground. She ran her palms across his muscular chest. “God, you are just a fine specimen of a man.” Her pouty, pink lips parted, her brown eyes full of hunger. That look made his jeans grow tight.
Brandi ripped off her top and threw it to the floor, and released her breasts from the captivity of her bra. His hand cupped them, taking her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it. She seemed to enjoy that immensely from the low moan that escaped her lips. He pushed himself on top of her, pinning her on the sofa under his large frame. She wiggled underneath him, shimmying off her jeans. Scott began unfastening his jeans.
“Condom,” she whispered in his ear.
Scott stood, adjusted his aching cock, and grabbed one from her bathroom cabinet. He stripped down to his boxers and walked back out to the living room. Brandi was sitting nude on the sofa, her feet curled up underneath her as she sipped her wine. The light from the fire was the only thing that illuminated the room. The red hues from the flames danced across her creamy skin. She looked so fucking beautiful.
Scott towered over her and took the wine from her hand and downed the rest of it in one gulp, placing the empty glass on the coffee table. “Now, where were we?” He grinned.
“About here.” She lay back and rubbed her hand down her toned belly, placing her fingers on her pussy.
Scott ripped the condom open with his teeth, rolled it on, and swung his prosthetic leg over her, leaving his right foot on the floor for leverage. He gently slid his cock into her. He closed his eyes and let the pleasure wash over him as he began slow thrusts. God, she felt good.
Brandi tugged the back of his neck, bringing him in close and crushing her lips to his. Her skin was so soft. She smelled like a mixture of strawberries and vanilla, light and sweet, and it fit her personality. He gazed into her warm eyes and caressed her cheek.
Brandi tensed under him. “You ok?” he asked. She didn’t look like she was enjoying it.
“Yeah, it’s fine.” She grimaced.
“Liar.” He frowned.
“The leg, it’s digging into me…” she said, obviously embarrassed to mention it. “Maybe we should move to the bed.” She nodded toward her room.
Scott heaved a heavy sigh and sat up. It was now or never. He’d have to do it in front of her eventually anyway. Scott pulled the prosthetic off. Brandi sat up and watched, her eyes wide.
“Better?” Scott asked.
Brandi looked at his stump, swallowed hard, then nodded and smiled. Her mouth twitched in the corner. Yeah, he’d freaked her out. Well, if she wanted to be with him, she was just going to have to get used to it. He couldn’t leave the damn thing on all the time.
Scott rubbed her cheek with his thumb, and looked at her warmly. He mounted her again and planted his lips to hers, hoping to heat things up again. She seemed to be enjoying the heavy make-out session as her nails dug into his shoulders.
Scott re-entered her and began thrusting. Without the leg getting caught in the way, it was much easier to maneuver. He fucked her hard and fast, holding back nothing, then came and shook violently.
“Did you get there?” He asked, knowing full well she hadn’t.
“It’s ok.” She patted him on the chest.
Scott sat up and ripped off the condom, tying it in a knot and discarding it onto the floor.
Well, that’s unacceptable. Scott Harris never left a woman unsatisfied. “Let’s take care of that,” Scott said with a grin. He licked his thumb and began rubbing her clit in soft, circular motions. Brandi leaned back and closed her eyes, placing her arm across her forehead. He pushed two fingers inside her, and she gasped. “You like that?” Scott grinned.
“It feels so good,” she panted in her sweet southern tang. With the wine in her, he could be here a while. He curled his residual leg under him, adjusting himself to settle in for the long haul, and his stump grazed her thigh. Brandi jerked her leg away and her eyes popped open.
“That repulsive, huh?” Scott snorted a wry laugh and pulled his hand away.
“Naw, I’ve just had a lot of wine. I’m having a hard time getting there.” Obviously, a lie. “It’s fine, Scott.” She rubbed his arm.
“I’m not dense, Brandi. I freaked you out. I get it…” Scott trailed off. He leaned over the side of the sofa, grabbed his liner, and rolled it back on.
“Stop.” Brandi placed her hand on top of his. “Come on, honey, you pulled it off in the middle of sex! It was just a little unexpected. It doesn’t make you any less of a man. I was just a bit shocked.”
Scott let out a heavy breath as he put his prosthetic back on. He dressed as an awkward silence hung in the room.
Ok, maybe Brandi had a point. Mid-sex may not be the best time to pull off a prosthetic leg. He tried to not act like a bitch and consider if the role was reversed. A girl pulling off a body part could easily kill the mood.
But it never bothered Tori. In fact, Tori never said a damn word if it got in the way. She’d just yank the leg off and continue on. He rested his elbows on his thighs and looked down at the ground.
“I’m sorry,” she croaked. “I just need some time to get used to it.”
“I understand.” Scott nodded. He leaned over and gave her a kiss on the cheek. “I’m gonna head out.” Scott grabbed his jacket and threw it on. “I’ll catch you later, Brandi.”
“Scott, please don’t go.”
He walked out of the house and climbed into his dad’s truck. As he started the engine his phone vibrated in his pocket. He assumed it was Brandi. He sighed and pulled out his phone.
It was a text from Tori.
Tori
Painted something today. Thought you may like it.
Attached was a photo of a large spread of canvases split apart. It was quite obviously a painting of him and Tori naked, in bed, embraced in a sensual pose. Damn, the thing was breathtaking. Of all the shitty times to send that text. It was either God’s sick, cruel joke or his twisted sense of humor.
This isn’t what you want. His dad’s words echoed in his head.
He went to start the engine, but before he could rev it to life, a gentle knock tapped his window. Brandi stood there, wrapped in a blanket, tears in her big brown eyes.
“Please come back.” Her lip quivered. “I’m sorry.”
He couldn’t stand to see her cry. He stuffed the phone back in his pocket and went back inside.
Scott couldn’t sleep. It was the same damn dream again. Every time he tried to get to Jones, he couldn’t. It was always just as it played out in real life—Scott hollering at him not to move a muscle, then the horrified look on Jones’s face of regret in that split second before the world lit up in front of him. Scott always took the lead, every fucking time, except for that day.
The sheets were damp underneath him from sweating through the nightmare. Thankfully, he didn’t wake Brandi up. He turned over and glanced at her sleeping soundly next to him, her long blonde curls falling over the white pillowcase. She looked so cute when she slept, the way her hands tucked under her creamy cheeks and her lashes fluttered as she dreamed.
He checked the time on his phone. 5:40 a.m. Well, so much for sleep. He was never able to sleep much past six anyway.
He pulled up Facebook. He’d finally succumbed to the pressure and got an account because that was the only way of staying in touch with people nowadays. He despised social media, and he hated jumping on the latest bandwagon. The world was changing. He’d better hop on, or he’d be left in the dust.
Victoria Johnson was tagged in a photo by Bastien Moreau. The description this dude had typed said Winter in Central Park avec cette beauté. Tori had a cup of coffee in hand and was gazing out at the water in a snow-fallen Central Park. God, she looked beautiful, and the snowy background just added to her ambience.
Who the fuck is Bastien?
Scott clicked on his profile. Yeah, he was being nosy. His profile said he was from Paris. Damn, the dude looked like a fucking runway model, all artsy-fartsy, sharp, angled features, perfectly tousled, highlighted waves that hit his chin, dressed in high fashion. Exactly the type of guy that Tori would go for. Typical.
Scott rolled his eyes and put down the phone. Here Tori was, painting nude photos of him and her, yet fooling around with this French fucker. The longer he was with Brandi, the more he wondered if he dodged a bullet with Tori. He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He grabbed his liner, slipped it on, then pulled on his prosthetic.
“Morning handsome,” Brandi’s voice chimed.
Scott turned to her. “Morning, gorgeous. Sorry to wake you.” He leaned over and kissed her soft, pink lips.
“Your naked body is a sight to get up early for.” She grinned.
“I’m gonna make us some coffee. Then maybe we can go shopping and get some warm clothes. DC is awfully cold this time of year.” Scott gave her a wink. “That is, if you’re still up for tagging along with me.”
“Sounds wonderful.” Brandi’s eyes smiled at him, and she flopped back onto the pillow, looking pleased.
Scott and Brandi’s week in DC was full of bumps. They ran into Keith at the museum one day, and he mentioned Tori. Brandi wouldn’t stop sniffing around that subject. Then Brandi found an invitation to Tori’s art exhibition. Apparently, Tori was in town that weekend. Thank God, they didn’t run into her. She also found Tori’s nude drawing of him when she was unpacking. It was the perfect trifecta for a shitstorm. Brandi also hated DC, and she let Scott know that more than once by dropping hints that he should move home.
Scott had been mulling it over all night while he was away for his battery of tests for the contracting firm. He didn’t want to take Brandi from her family, and he knew she would never be happy in DC. Most of his jobs he’d be sent out for would be overseas anyway. He chatted with the CEO, Jack, a bit about it, and they had several contractors that didn’t live in the DC area. Scott felt it would be good to get away from DC. There was too much here that reminded him of Tori, and he needed a clean break from her if he was going to make things work with Brandi.
He walked down the hall and unlocked his door. He’d catch some sleep, then they’d have a serious talk and come up with a plan.
“What on earth is this?” Scott said as he walked into his apartment, noticing Brandi’s suitcases packed by the door.
Brandi stood from the sofa. “I’m going home, Scott.”
Scott frowned and dropped his keys on the table. He came over and wrapped his arms around her. “Listen, I know you don’t like this city, and I’ve been thinking about it. I can move to Texas, I don’t have to live here to take this job. I can just fly here when needed. I’ll be making great money…”
Brandi pulled back from his embrace and shook her head. “No, Scott. It’s over.”
Scott’s face twisted into a grimace. “Did I do something to upset you?” He was utterly lost. Yeah, they’d had some bumps but nothing worth leaving him over.
Brandi let out a deep breath. “I know you’re a good man. I know you’d never be unfaithful to me if we married, and I know you’d make yourself miserable for the rest of your life just to please me.”
Scott furrowed his brow in confusion. “Brandi, I’ve been nothing but happy with you.” He reached out and cupped her cheek.
“Have you?” she asked. “I mean, really. Is it just me, or does it feel like something isn’t quite fitting?” Brandi let out a deep breath. “I want you in Texas, but to be honest, I don’t want you gone all the time. I’d be settling. If you didn’t take this job, you’d be settling for a career you didn’t want. I’ve been pushing you, and you’ve been pulling me.”
“Brandi, relationships require compromise. I’ll move to Texas, but this is what I’m meant to do, and I’m damn good at it. You gotta be willing to bend a bit.”
“Add on to it, this whole time, I’ve had this sinking feeling that you wanted me to be someone else. I’m not her and never will be. I’m ok with that. I like who I am. I’m a good catch.”
“Yes, you are,” Scott protested. Brandi was sweet and kind, loving and caring. The hotness didn’t hurt, either. She was wonderful. “Please don’t do this. I really like who you are, too.”
“You may like me, but I know you don’t love me, Scott.”
Scott sucked in a deep breath. He really couldn’t protest that. He hadn’t been able to say those words to her. He cared for Brandi, but he wasn’t in love, not yet, at least. He knew, given time, that those feelings would come. “Love takes time, Brandi.”
She cocked her head to the side. “But does it, really? Call me a hopeless romantic, but I think when you know, you know. I think we both know that this isn’t going to work, Scott. We’re very different people who want very different things. This just isn’t clicking.” Brandi let out a deep breath. “Close your eyes, Scott,” she requested.
He did what she asked. Her hands slipped into his and squeezed tight. “Imagine your future. You’re sixty-five, grey, still devilishly handsome.” He could hear the smile in her voice. “You’re sitting, relaxing, retired in your favorite spot on earth. Are you there?”
Scott envisioned himself between the cleft of two mountains. Leafy ferns and tall pines covered the land as far as the eye could see. He could see the spot perfectly in his mind. “Yes.”
“You look over, in that beautiful moment, and grab the hand of the woman growing old next to you. Can you see her?”
Scott envisioned the woman next to him. Sunlight broke from behind light-colored waves of grey. The face wasn’t in full view—her head was turned slightly. He took the woman’s hand into his. Wrinkles formed on the tiny fingers that had several silver and turquoise rings on it. He swallowed a lump in his throat as he trailed the arm up to the face that turned to him. Her crooked smile was wide as the day is long, and her face showed the lines of the years they’d spent together. One thing remained constant—those big blue eyes. Tori’s eyes. Scott grimaced as his heart ached for that moment.
“It’s not me, is it?”
“Brandi…” Scott didn’t know what to say. Tears rolled down Brandi’s cheeks, and he felt like such a bastard, but he honestly couldn’t object to a single word she was saying. She was one hundred percent right. She wasn’t the one his heart wanted. They were both trying to force something that wasn’t there.
She reached up and touched his cheek. “I know I’m not what you’re looking for. I truly hope you catch her someday. I wish you nothing but the best.” She planted her lips softly on his, kissing him sweetly. “Goodbye, Scott.”
Scott awoke from a restless night sleep and grabbed his phone, checking for any messages. One from Brandi that said she’d made it back to Texas safe and sound.
He’d offered to accompany Brandi to the airport, but she adamantly refused. At least she let him walk her to the cab. Brandi had been so kind and understanding, only wanting the best for him. Damn her for being so wise and such a good person, and damn her for sticking that stupid vision of him and Tori together in his head. All night, he tossed and turned and couldn’t get it out of his mind.
Scott
How was your exhibition?
Tori
How’s your girlfriend?
Scott breathed heavily. He’d texted Tori the night before and told her that he was sorry he couldn’t make the exhibition and that he was going to have to cut things off. It didn’t feel right to him to be talking to Tori when he was trying to make a go of it with Brandi. He was seriously regretting that text now.
Scott
I kinda underestimated where it was going.
Tori
Sorry that didn’t work out for ya. Exhibition was good. Sold that painting I showed you to an anonymous bidder and made a small fortune.
Fucking fantastic. My naked ass is going to be on some stranger’s wall. Scott chuckled and rolled his eyes.
Scott
You still in town?
Tori
Not for long. My train leaves in an hour. Sorry buddy, you missed out on some rebound sex. You’ll have to catch me another time.
Not if I have my way, I didn’t. Scott grabbed his coat, went downstairs, and hailed a cab to Union Station. He looked on the display and found the platform to New York and went as quickly as his leg would take him, hoping to catch her.
He could see her in the distance, looking at her phone in one hand, rolling suitcase in the other. He made a beeline toward her and stopped several yards away when a man with the wavy, sandy-colored hair walked up behind her with two coffees in hand. Tori looked up at the man and grinned, slipping her phone into her purse. She accepted the cup as he leaned in and kissed her gently on the lips. Scott stood there and watched as they talked and laughed. Scott recognized the dude. It was the man, Bastien—the one from Facebook that he’d seen.
She’s with him? Before he sent his text cutting things off with Tori she’d messaged him and said to “bring the panties.” Why?
The realization hit him that Tori was just toying with Scott, knowing full well he wouldn’t attend the exhibition. What if he’d actually shown up? His neck grew hot. He was angry at her for playing her stupid games, and hated himself for being so damn predictable. Tori knew him far too well.
The loudspeaker blared the announcement for their departure. Scott watched as the two of them stood in line to board. Scott stuffed his hands in his pockets and turned to leave the station. Tori’s lacy underwear touched his fingertips. He stopped at a garbage can a few feet away and began to pull them out, ready to toss them in and be done with this whole charade.
His heart squeezed, stopping him.
The railcars roared in the tunnel as people shuffled to and fro. He and Tori were just like those trains—right next to each other but on different tracks, always going in opposite directions. Is that all they were destined for? Would they someday finally intersect?
He looked back to Tori and Bastien. She was laughing at something he was showing her on his phone. Scott knew it was that loud cackle of hers by the way she threw her head back. She froze and her smile faded into surprised recognition. She cocked her head to the side as her eyes met Scott’s from a distance. Scott lowered his head and scratched his nose. Ah, she caught me.
Tori smiled warmly, lifted her hands up, and shrugged to Scott as if to say your move. Scott just shook his head and grinned at her as the man she was with boarded the train. Her shoulders heaved as she let out a breath. Her brow crinkled as if to say well, alright then. She blew him a kiss, turned, and climbed on the train.
He tucked the panties back in his pocket, released his hold on them, and walked out of the station.