Brynn sat in a chair with her hands clasped together on her lap. Her head turned when I stepped through the door. The second our eyes met, it felt as if electricity sizzled through the air between us, linking us.
“Brynn.”
She stood quickly, and I took her in with a swift perusal. Her chestnut brown hair was twisted into a tidy upsweep, and loose curls framed her face. When her wide blue eyes met mine, it felt as if a fist reached into my chest and grabbed my heart, squeezing it almost painfully.
“I heard you were looking for me,” she finally said.
I’d spent the past few years getting good and cynical. Beyond the gloss and glitter of fame, cynicism abounds. Because you never know who’s genuine. Most people just want a piece of you, and at first, it had been fun. I was no saint, and I was a guy. That unbridled excess morphed into cynicism twisted with bitterness. The last time I’d experienced authentic joy was with Brynn. Every thought of her was like a ray of sunshine in a dark room. Of late, it felt like the shades had fallen closed on my life. My band was on hiatus for a full year after my best friend and bandmate, Wes, almost died of an accidental overdose.
Brynn was here. Sparky, the old nickname she’d had as a little girl.
I realized I was standing there dead silent when she cleared her throat. “I am. I mean, I was. Follow me,” I replied belatedly. I gestured to the doorway.
She stood stock-still for a moment. Time stretched long enough that I wondered if she was going to refuse. I hadn’t realized I was holding my breath until she took a step toward me.
She wore a fitted skirt that hugged her hips and flared just above her knees. She’d paired that with leather boots and a silky blue blouse with a cream camisole underneath. Her stride was confident, but I didn’t miss the uncertainty flickering in her eyes.
The urge to fold her in my arms was almost overwhelming. For a man who’d spent the past few years feeling downright jaded about women, it was startling how easily this one woman could undo all that.
Moments later, we were in my office. We stood only a few feet apart in front of the windows, yet it felt as if there was a canyon, miles and miles wide, between us.
“I’m sorry about your father,” she said, breaking the silence.
I cleared my throat. “Thank you.” My father had passed away earlier this year. Another detail that added to a pile of details to make this year challenging for me. I should’ve known Brynn would know that, but I hadn’t expected to start there.
Brynn looked at me again, just one look, and it nearly slayed me. “You never wrote me back.” Her voice came out a little frayed, and my heart lost its footing as if I’d tripped and fallen for a moment.
“I’m sorry.” Fuck, those two words felt so wholly inadequate. “I found your card last week,” I explained.
A twitch of confusion appeared between her brows. “What do you mean?”
“Brynn, when we moved away, my parents weren’t even talking to each other. The card never left my dad’s house.”
Turning, I walked to my desk, lifting it and handing it to her. When our fingertips brushed, electricity sizzled up my arm.
“You just got this?” she asked, her tone wondering.
I nodded. “My assistant brought me a few things that had been packed from my dad’s house. It was in there. I hope—”
Brynn shook her head sharply. “You don’t have to explain. I understand. Why are you looking for me, Caden?”
It was so strange to hear her say my name aloud.
“Because I miss you.” I spoke the only truth I had.
Brynn stared at me before her lips twisted and doubt flickered in her eyes.
Brynn
Three months later - December
“That doesn’t make any sense,” I said, staring across the table at Caden. “Why should I believe you?”
I hated the crazy throb of my pulse and the almost magnetic pull I felt toward him. I knew he would have this effect on me even if he wasn’t a famous rock star, but that tiny detail made it almost annoying.
We were at Wildlands, a bar and restaurant in Willow Brook, Alaska. The very town where we’d grown up together. I hadn’t come here tonight to see Caden. I had a late lunch with Holly who had practically run away from the table once he appeared, telling us she thought she’d left the stove on at home. She didn’t even try to make it a plausible excuse.
Caden leaned forward, reaching his hand across the table and hooking his pinky around mine. That small action made my heart flip over. He used to do that when we were in high school. Gah!
I did not need to be some foolish girl swooning over some guy who’d moved away and broke up with me over the phone not much later. I thought he’d drop this crazy idea of reconnecting after I brushed him off in Seattle. Surely, the guy had better things to do.
I blinked when I met his eyes, and emotion rushed through me at the look there.
Pressing my lips into a line, I mustered some strength. “Why now?”
“I don’t have a great answer for you, Brynn. Like I told you when I saw you in Seattle, I came across that card you sent me. I knew I was coming home anyway. When I heard you moved back last month, I decided to try to see you again.” He gestured with his free hand around the restaurant, adding, “I honestly didn’t know I’d see you here tonight. I stopped by thinking I’d grab some takeout and that’s it.”
I looked away, but I didn’t have the fortitude to unhook my pinky from his. Because, my God, it felt good to touch him. When I found out he was a part of that band a few years ago, I’d mentally scoffed. I’d always been dismissive when there was chatter in Seattle about them.
It was nothing, no big deal. I told myself he didn’t mean as much as I’d thought. It was only because he’d been my first everything. Your first love and your first heartbreak were the hardest, but they didn’t mean the most. Right?
After he tracked me down a few months ago, I’d told myself it was best if I didn’t do something stupid. He’d caught me at a bad time. I was still reeling from my divorce and feeling like the biggest fool ever. I didn’t need to be thinking my old high school boyfriend, who was now a freaking rock star, wanted me.
It didn’t help matters that this grown-up version of Caden was, um, shockingly sexy. Oh. My. God. I didn’t know if it was the shimmer of fame clinging to him, but wow. It was obvious why girls wrote poetry about him online. My hormones were ready to write a poem—hell, a whole freaking book—on just how smoldering hot he was.
When I finally dared to glance back in his direction, my breath felt trapped in my lungs. It was the look in his eyes, the flicker of vulnerability. For just a flash, I saw the boy I once knew, past the mirage of his fame.
“So, all of this because you found that card?” I finally prompted.
He nodded slowly, tightening the little hook of his pinky around mine. I swear to God, it felt as if he had used a hook to loosen the stitching around my heart. Sure, he was my first love and my first heartbreak, but I seemed to have a knack for that, so he wasn’t special.
He nodded slowly. “It was a Christmas card, actually.”
I arched a brow. “I’m sure it was totally cheesy. I was really into cards for a little while there.”