Chapter 27
Devon pulled the blanket up over Addison’s shoulders and brushed a strand of hair out of her face. It had been a long night.
After the doctors ran tests and determined there was no permanent damage to her ears and bandaged her wrists, they’d had to wait for TLC’s lawyer to arrive at the hospital so she could sit in on the FBI’s questioning. It was technically only a debrief, but since Addison had choked out one of Interpol’s most wanted, no one was willing to take any chances. She’d fallen asleep in the car before they ever pulled out of the hospital parking lot.
She hadn’t said it back. He’d told her he loved her, but she hadn’t given the words back—yet, but it stung. He knew she felt something for him by the way she let him take care of her. It was a lot for a woman like Addison to trust someone and rely on them.
He sighed. Words were just words, but he selfishly wanted them. He eased off the bed and pulled the door closed behind him. In the kitchen, he pulled two long-necks from the fridge and made his way back to the living room, handing one to Braedon.
“Thanks. She still out?”
“Yeah. I think the meds they gave her knocked her out.”
“That and she hasn’t really been sleeping the last week or so.” Braedon sipped his beer and looked at the T.V.
He said it as if it was somehow Devon’s fault. Maybe he owed an explanation for why he’d bolted.
“I heard her tell you it was all pretend. Thatshewas pretending.”
Braedon rolled his head to look at him. “I knew she was lying. Why didn’t you? More importantly, why didn’t you man up and tell her you weren’t pretending?”
“We’re gonna do this? Talk about our feelings? You want to turn on the Hallmark Channel afterward?” He knew his bluff wouldn’t work, but he needed to buy some time to collect his thoughts.
“It’s already on. Spill.”
Devon looked at the television. Damned if Jessica Fletcher wasn’t sneaking around on screen. He leaned forward and braced his arms on his knees, running a hand over his face. “It stung. My pride. My ego.”
“Your heart,” Braedon said.
“Yeah. That, too. It was easier to believe the words I heard than trust what I was feeling, so I walked away.”
“Look, Addy’s been giving me shit about my ‘life’s too short’ philosophy I’ve got right now, but it is. Bad shit happens, and not just to people like us who go looking for it. Either of you could be hit by a bus tomorrow. Don’t waste time walking away from the things that scare you. She might not have said the words yet, but I think she loves you.”
Devon swallowed hard. “Why’s that?”
“A few reasons. The only person she lets call her Addy is me. Not even our parents call her Addy.”
“I call her Addy all the time,” Devon said.
Braedon pointed the top of his beer bottle at him. “Exactly.”
“Okay, but that doesn’t exactly equate to love.”
Braedon lowered his beer and stared at the television. “When we were around six, she was crying about something—I don’t remember what. Our dad had been drinking and yelled at her to stop crying. I mean,yelledat her. She stopped. Immediately. The only person she’s cried in front of since then is me.” He looked at Devon. “And you. Addy does not trust easily and she doesn’t share her feelings—ever—but she does with you.”
He turned back to the T.V. “That and the fact she was on her fucking way to tell you how she fucking feels.”
Devon looked down and smiled.
“This is a nice house,” Braedon said.
“Thanks. I like it.”
“It’s an old carriage house, right?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you renting it?”
