COTTON
January 15
Shiloh,
By now you’ve received my journal, and llamas will forevermore mean something very different.
I know this has all been shocking and difficult to handle, especially with me not being there, and I just wanted to write one final entry…one final letter…that tells you not to worry about me. Don’t waste time crying over me, or anything silly like that.
I’m fine.
In fact, I think I may even be better than fine. There’s something here, Shy, something with Brodie, and it’s bringing me back to life. It’s making me new again in ways I can’t explain. I know that won’t be good enough, though, so I’m going to try to talk feelings.
Ick. You know I’ve always been shit at feelings.
When I came back home to Jessup Falls, I was broken. Fearful. Angry. I thought, more than once, about simply giving up.
I’m still angry, but that rage doesn’t consume me anymore. I’ve seen that I can, and will, have all those things I used to dream about when I was a kid. I’ve seen that the right person can help me mend my broken pieces.
That person is Brodie. I haven’t told him this, but I think he’s pretty freaking amazing, Shy. He sees into me, and he doesn’t look away. He kidnapped me to dance with me, cook for me, push me, challenge me…to save me.
He calls memacushla. His pulse. His vein.
I may be his vein, but he’s my heart. Sappy, I know. But we’re entwined. Inevitable.
THE DAY WAS JUST DEEPENING TO DUSK WHEN WE PULLED INTO MY DRIVEWAY THE FOLLOWING DAY. We’d left Boston early that morning and settled in for another long day of driving. I didn’t even remember how many total hours it was from there to Texas, where Kittredge was, but we’d decided to spend the evening here, wake in the morning, and start all over again.
Brodie parked along the side of the house, next to the kitchen entrance, and I climbed out, groaning as I stretched and felt my spine click after the inactivity. “Why aren’t we flying, again?”
He came around the vehicle and kissed me. “Because I wanted to get some time in with you now…” He trailed off and my spidey senses hummed.
I tilted my head. I was learning that Brodie was the master of telling without stating. He was telling me something now, in the way his arms were wrapped tightly around me, the way his chin rested on the top of my head. I ran a finger along the spines of his leather jacket’s zipper and looked at his chin. “What do you mean ‘you wanted to spend time with me’? That makes it sound like we won’t be spending time together at some future date.”
He released a slow breath through his nose. “You’re too perceptive,macushla. I wanted to tell you later, not now when you’re about to walk inside and see your family.”
“Tell me what, exactly?” My hands were suddenly cold and I tucked them inside the warm recess of his coat, resting them on his lean waist.
“After… King’s client… is in custody and you’re safe, King is sending me to Ireland. It won’t be a short visit, but it won’t be forever, either.” He leaned back a fraction and raised my chin with a finger, searching the lines of my face.
I wondered what it said. My face, that is. Did the tightness of my jaw reveal my anger? Did the pinch of my mouth scream my devastation?
“Em. Say something.”
When I spoke my voice was flat. Dull. “What’s there to say? You’re leaving.” I forced a smile, not wanting him to see how much the thought of him leaving hurt. He said he’d be back, sure, but…plans changed. Things happened. His plane could crash. He could meet some pretty, uncomplicated Irish girl who liked to be spanked and wouldn’t ask questions.
I wouldn’t hold my breath. “I get it, Brodie. I’ll be okay.” I separated myself from him and started towards the door.
He cursed. “We’re going to talk about this, Emery.”
I tossed another smile back. “Sure. Okay. I’m going to see Savvi, first.”
“Shite. Feck, fine. I’ll take our things in through the front.” He paused. “Am I going to run into your stepfather?”
“He’s usually closeted in his office, so not likely. My room is last on the right at the top of the staircase.”
He walked around to the cargo area, out of sight. My smile faltered as I opened the door to the kitchen without knocking. I needed to get myself together. I had been a wreck since I had been tricked into believing Brodie was killing me yesterday, my emotions swinging wildly from anger to fear to acceptance and everything in between. And now this. One sympathetic word from Savvi and I’d be a blubbering mess.
Brodie had been acting oddly since we left Reilly’s and arrived at his apartment last night, and I guess I understood why, now. He’d gone through all of the correct motions, massaging my scalp in that way he did while we watched the television, pulling me into the curve of his body after we’d made love and turned the lights out…but that’s all it was. Motions. A performance. His eyes held secrets and while he answered direct questions, he didn’t initiate conversation.
