He chuckles, the weariness heavy. “It’s late. You don’t need to be out driving this time of night after the day you’ve had.”
“After the day I’ve had, all I need is to be with you. If you’ll have me.” I hold my breath, waiting on his response. It occurs to me he might not want to see me and that slays me.
“If I’ll have you? You know I always want you, Brynne.”
I grin, releasing the breath I’m holding.
“But you should wait till morning. It’s a long drive from your parents’ house and it’s late and—”
“I have Presley. She’ll bring me. She’s a terrible sleeper anyway and such a romantic. She’ll love this.”
He groans and I know he isn’t thrilled with my compromise, but I don’t care. I need to see him. Now.
“I’m coming over, Fenton.”
“Maybe I should—”
“I’ll be there as soon as I can!” I interject before he can finish.
I click off the phone and look at my brother. He’s watching me with an amused look on his face.
“Is it okay if I go, Brady? Maybe it’s rude for me to leave you right now?” I bite my lip and plead with my gaze for him to give me the go-ahead.
He laughs and stands, heading towards the living room. “It’d be easier, probably. You’re stressing me out.”
“Shut up,” I laugh.
He chuckles and gets comfortable in the recliner. “Go. Have fun. Make peace with Fenton, but don’t tell me how you plan on doing that,” he snorts. “I have a lot of stuff to do tomorrow, and honestly, I want to try to sleep and eat and just be as normal as possible. So don’t worry about me, all right?”
I jet up the stairs to wake Presley, but remember something. I pause on the steps whip out my phone again and press redial.
“Brynne?” he asks, his cashmere wrapping around me. “Everything okay?”
“I forgot to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“I love you,” I whisper. “And I’m not pretending. Not one bit.”
“Do you now?”
“I so do.”
“Then get over here and show me.”
“On my way.”
The engine purrs as Presley slides the Mercedes up Fenton’s driveway. The headlights bounce off the stucco front and I see the curtains by the front door rustle.
“Thanks, Pres!” I shout, jumping out and slamming the door behind me. She honks as I round the front and starts to back down the driveway.
Quicker than I’ve ever sprinted in my life, my heartbeat matching my steps, I fly around the garage and up the front steps. The door opens as soon as I reach the top and I fling myself, breathless, into the arms of the man of my dreams.
He pulls me in tight, nestling his face in my hair. My face burrows into his white t-shirt. I feel at home. Like everything in my life has finally come together.
We just stand in the entryway, locked together, absorbing the moment. There are so many things I want to say, but the moment is so pure, so perfect that I’m afraid to spoil it with words that I’m sure won’t come out right.
“Fenton,” I whisper, pulling away just far enough to see his face. His eyes are creased, his forehead marred with the stress of dealing with everything these past few weeks. I run my hand down the side of his face and when he leans into it, I break a little bit inside. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His tone is crisp, his words definite. He lowers his face so he can peer inside my soul. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“No, I do. I should’ve believed you.”
He chuckles, the sweet sound of amusement making me grin despite my guilt. “You should’ve. But,” he says, lifting his chin when I start to respond, silencing me, “I understand why you didn’t.”
“It was all too much, you know?”
His eyes, already heavy with stress and lack of sleep, crinkle even more as he grins. “It was. And now it’s over.”
Tears spring to my eyes, blurring my vision. “I can’t thank you enough for going after Brady. You brought him back to us, Fenton.”
“It was my responsibility to do that. I’d been trying to do it since the day he was taken. You have to believe that.”
“Brady believes that.”
“He’s a good man.”
“So are you. And Fenton, I believe that too,” I whisper. “I want you to know I can never repay you, but I’ll prove to you how much I appreciate what you’ve done and how sorry I am for not believing you. I have so much to make up to you and I will. I promise.”
He takes my hand and leads me into the living room. We sit on the sofa, the moon hanging low in the sky. The only light comes from it, swamping the room with a hazy glow. There’s no sound, just our breathing.
“How’s he feeling?” Fenton asks, his eyes shining. “He was a little sore on the plane.”
“He’s going to be fine,” I laugh. “He’ll get checked out again tomorrow, but he’s a doctor, you know.”
“I saw something about that,” he winks.
“I told him about you and I . . .”
Fenton’s face darkens. “You did?”
I nod.