Until It Fades

Yes, I could use the money. But I won’t cash in on a tragic car accident to get it.

“I’m sorry. It was a dumb thing to suggest. I don’t know why I did. I guess I’m just used to . . .” He finishes off under his breath with, “those kind of people,” and then sighs. “Either way, it’s still a good idea to do an interview. My publicist can set it all up for you. And I can be there with you, if you want.”

Would that be better or worse for my nerves, having Brett in the room with me? With a shaky sigh, I nod. “I’ll think about it, but the TV thing isn’t me. I don’t like having a spotlight on me. I don’t want that life.”

His lips twist. “You mean my life?”

“I’m just saying that it’s not for me. I need things to be simple for me and for Brenna.” My gut tells me that he and Keith are right. I just need to get this over with and move on, and hopefully not humiliate myself, or my daughter, in the process.

Speaking of Brenna . . .

I glance at the analog clock on my ancient avocado green stove—the landlord refuses to replace that relic, fixing it himself every time it tries to die—to check how long I have before she’s likely to wake. A few hours yet. But if she finds Brett here, I’ll never get her back to sleep.

Unfortunately, Brett takes that as a signal that I want him to leave. “I should probably get back to Philly.” My table groans in protest as he uses it for support to stand.

“No. I didn’t mean to . . .” I let my words drift. What am I going to do, beg him to stay? “You didn’t drive yourself here, did you?”

He chuckles, slowly easing himself onto his crutches. “No. I have a driver. He’s waiting outside with Officer Singer.” He heads for the door.

I move past him, intent on opening it for him.

“Wait.”

The single word is uttered in a soft whisper and yet somehow makes me jump.

Brett hobbles toward me, his face twitching with pain, until he’s mere inches away. Towering over me, forcing my head back. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what I was expecting when I got here, but it wasn’t you and I was nervous.”

“You were nervous?” I can’t stop the weak giggle from escaping my lips.

His eyes roam my face. “It’s not every day that someone saves your life. And then I saw you and . . .” The softest sigh escapes his lips. “I haven’t actually said ‘Thank you’ yet.”

I train my eye on his Adam’s apple. He saw me and what? “There’s no need.”

“Of course there is. I’ve been lying in a hospital bed for the past week, thinking of what I’d say when I finally met you, and here I am now and even though I’m talking, I feel completely speechless.” He reaches up to toy with a wayward stand of my hair. I’ve all but forgotten my disheveled appearance at this point. “And in awe.”

“You’re in awe?” I snort, and then my cheeks burn bright with embarrassment and I avert my gaze to the floor, because I just snorted in front of Brett Madden.

“I would be dead if it weren’t for you.”

“Anyone would have done the same.”

“No. That’s not true. A lot of people would not have done the same. A lot of people would have taken one look at the car and not bothered. Or they would have seen the first flame and run.” His large hand gently and completely wraps around my biceps, his touch both soothing and inducing heart palpitations. “You’re half my size, you have a child, and you did the impossible, and because you did that, I’m standing here right now.”

I almost left you there.

I can’t shake my guilt. I avert my gaze to study the old floor. And his navy blue Nike sneakers. Or rather, his sneaker, since the other foot is in a cast. “I’m just glad it worked out.”

His hand settles under my chin, pushing against it until I lift my head.

With a deep, shaky breath, I meet Brett’s eyes, rimmed with dark bruising yet still beautiful. And glistening with moisture now.

A strange, unexpected bubble of warmth swells inside my chest at this very vulnerable side of him.

Hooking his free arm around my shoulders, he awkwardly pulls me in tight against him, resting his chin on top of my head.

Despite my apprehension, I can’t help myself. I melt, my cheek against his firm chest, my arms slipping around his trim waist, until I hear the sharp inhale and I assume I’m hurting him. I begin to pull away but his arm only tightens around me, squeezing me against him. I can feel every contour of him. He must feel the same of me.

I silently pray that my hair doesn’t smell like the batch of battered fish that Leroy burned in the kitchen this afternoon. I didn’t have the foresight to shower right after work.

Brett doesn’t seem to be in a rush to let go, so I close my eyes and let myself enjoy the warmth of him, losing myself in the fantasy that this is more than just the embrace of a grateful man.

A knock sounds on the door, a moment before it creaks open. I immediately pull away just as Keith and a giant, burly guy step through. I’m guessing that’s the driver, though I’d peg him as the bodyguard.

“Your mother just called me,” the man says in a deep baritone.

Brett sighs. “I’m going to assume she’s the reason why my phone’s been vibrating nonstop in my pocket?”

It has? He never glanced at it, not once.

A slight smile touches the driver’s face. “She doesn’t sound too happy. Says you were supposed to take your pills two hours ago.”

“Yeah. I was in a rush to get here and I forgot. I’m starting to regret that.” He winces in pain as he turns to peer down at me. “I’m serious about setting up the interview. Let’s get them off your back, Catherine.”

There’s my name on his tongue again. My body hums with excitement as I offer him a tight smile. “We’ll see.”

He does another brief visual sweep around my house. “Until then, you should think about staying with family.”

There’s no way I’m bringing this to my parents’ doorstep. And I refuse to be driven from my home by those assholes. “We’ll be fine here. The drapes are all drawn. They’re not going to break in.” I look to Keith for confirmation. “Right?”

“No, I can’t see them doing that. But I’ll stay here tonight and I’ve got the guys keeping an eye out. She’ll be fine as long as she stays put,” Keith says.

Brett nods, sizes him up with a curious gaze before turning to his bodyguard. “How fast can V.S.S. get a body out here?”

I frown. A body? Does he mean a bodyguard?

“Two hours,” the hulkish man answers in that rumbling voice. “I’ll call it in now, if you want.”

“Yeah. Please.”

“Is this really necessary?”

“Why don’t you take a stroll outside and see for yourself?” Keith dares me, and the look on his face tells me that’s the last thing I want to do.

“Just for a few days, until the attention dies down,” Brett offers, his voice soft. Almost pleading. “I’d feel a lot better. So would my family.”

I picture the front of my little cottage adorned with a giant armed man in a suit, and I nearly laugh. But his concern for me keeps the amusement at bay. “So what exactly will this ‘body’ do?”