“I’m not playing with a clock,” I shout at his back but he just keeps right on walking. I swipe up the ivory pieces and start placing them on the board. I’ll let Will be ebony. The color suits his dark, competitive chess-playing soul.
Twenty-Eight
“I’ll wait here,” I tell Jayne when she pulls into the parking lot of the Fox and Hound. We’ve spent half of the day and most of the evening out looking for Brinn and the failure has left me feeling light years past dejected. After my heart to heart with Will, I returned to Jayne’s with a plan in mind. I wasn’t going to walk away from Brinn without a good fight. I can’t take the chance of running into him around town and always thinking what if. This way, if he rejects me again and I run into him in town, my what if will be more about him being a stupid, bull-headed moron who doesn’t deserve me.
“Let’s eat inside. You need to see something other than my place.” She turns off the car and unfastens my seat belt.
“We’ve just seen most of Daytona, Flagler Beach, and Port Orange.” I pull the belt back and click it in place. “I’d rather go home.”
“Come on, mum makes a bread pudding that helps ease heartache,” she says and unfastens my seat belt again.
“Just get it to go,” I plead.
Yeah, I’m having a suck attack but this broken heart shit hurts and I’m not handling it the best. I’m moody and not fun to be around so there isn’t any purpose to going inside. Why Jayne continues to invest time in me is beyond my understanding. But I love her for it. I owe her more every day.
Jayne levels a glare at me and presses her lips together making them a thin line. She won’t let go of my seatbelt.
“Fine, but I’m not up for an all-nighter.” She won’t shut up about it so I might as well just give in now.
I pull my hoodie around me, though the breeze is slight, the chill in the air goes right to my bones as if I have no protective layer whatsoever. I’m exposed. Jayne’s layered two T-shirts and is wearing skinny jeans, and she looks as if she’s warm to my freezing.
I shuffle in behind her and automatically go to the bar, taking a seat on a corner stool. Jayne sits next to me and catches the eye of the bartender, Jake. A true asshat who has played around with the waitresses. He thinks man was created in his image.
“Hey, Jake, we’re going to order food,” Jayne says.
I stare ahead. I’m in a space that waffles between angry and sad and if someone looks at me wrong, like Jake might, I may just go on a good rage.
“Sure,” he says and pulls out two menus. “Hey, Josie.” He gives me a nod and his gaze lingers.
My palm itches to slap him upside the head, but instead I look away because it’s not him but my urge to strike out at someone. I’m eager to see Brinn and say what needs to be heard. So much is unfinished and I’ll be restless until that moment happens. I crave this like an addict craves their next fix.
Truth is, Brinn is my fix, and none of these emotions likely have anything to do with closure or saying my mind. So there’s that.
“Relax,” Jayne says.
Forcing my shoulders back, I roll them to release the tension. Doing so makes me think of Pippa and her yoga, and I hope she’s living it up in India.
I smile. “You were right,” I tell her. “Getting out was a good idea.”
“You have very intelligent friends,” she says.
“Maybe I’ll have a drink. Jake, can I get a whiskey sour?”
“Same for me,” Jayne says and signals for Jake to take our orders. She looks over my shoulder and her eyes go wide and instantly I know.
I jump off the stool and spin to face the booths, finding the back of Brinn’s head in one. It’s bent over and I realize he’s on the phone. I’m halfway across the room when Vann sees me, nudges his brother, and indicates in my direction. I’m at the table before he hangs up the phone.
“Never mind, I found her, Erik. I’ll call you back,” he says and disconnects without looking at the phone, his eyes laser focused on mine, a broad smile across his face. “Josie.” He says my name in a deep, rough voice, and I swear that if these were different circumstances I might think he sounds happy to see me.
“Shut up,” I say and push him back into the booth when he tries to stand, blocking him with my body. I lean forward, my face close to his. “Now it’s your turn to listen to me, Brinn McRae. You said some shitty things to me and I never deserved that. You said I would run; yet here I am. You said I was chaos, destruction, yet you never accepted any responsibility for your own actions. I’m solely to blame. Yes, I have a past. I’m embracing spontaneity and willing to try new things, but that’s because I was where you are and I wanted more for my life. I dared to dream and hope and live—”
“I—”
“Stop.” I put my fingers to his mouth, pinching his lips together. “Listen to me. I believe you can do anything. That you’ve lost nothing but you’re dangerously close to losing me and I have to know—are you OK with that?” I search his face, looking for something, anything to jump-start my heart as it’s stopped, waiting for a sign.
He places his hand over my wrist and removes my fingers from his lips. “You need to understand something.” His hand curls around my wrist and holds tight.
“I already know—”
“I can’t change directions as quickly as you can. I’ve worked so hard to get control of my life.” His eyes flick toward Vann. “Our life. I forgot to enjoy the moments. Guys get scared too, you know.” He lets go of my wrist and places his hands on my hips; pushing me back, he stands and leans toward me.
“I look at you and I’m afraid to want you. Because then I’ll need you and what if you don’t feel the same way?”
“But I do, and I’m scared, too. I don’t know how to do this.” I step into him, our bodies slowly pressing against each other. “I left my family and life as I knew it to find something more and ended up falling in love with a guy who’s like my father. How’s that for irony?” I slide my hands up his chest, slowly. Hesitantly.
“You love me?” He cups my face between his hands.
“Well, either it’s you or this city. There’s something here I love. Could go either way.” There’s a crinkling of tape and what feels like a bandage under his shirt. “Are you hurt?” I pull up his T-shirt and see the taped gauze over his left breast. “Oh my God, what happened?” I step back and try to push his shirt up further, not caring that we’re in a public place.
“It’s nothing,” Brinn says and reaches for me. “About this love thing.”
“It’s a tattoo. He just got it today,” Vann says.
Over Brinn’s shoulder, Vann tips his beer to me before he takes a pull.
I look back a Brinn, “A tattoo? Are you serious?” I peel away the ouch-less tape and pull the gauze back.
I burst into tears when I see the design. It’s born for henna and looks like something I’d paint on my body.
“Don’t cry, baby.” He wraps me in his arms, crushing me to him. He kisses me with all the longing I feel and the salt from my tears makes it all that much sweeter.