Home. He knew exactly where that was going to be. “Soon, sweetheart,” he said with a kiss. “Very soon.”
Thirty
Icould definitely get used to working like this.
Brittany set her computer down for a moment, not only to take a sip of wine but also to enjoy the view. It didn’t get much better than the ocean at sunset from a rooftop deck with a gentle breeze sifting through the warm California air.
Since she’d arrived, her story seemed to be writing itself. She just may get that Pulitzer yet. Although that had never been what it was about. It had been about finding the truth, and she’d done that. Since she no longer had a job, she decided to tackle her next story freelance. Although, thanks to Kate, the door was open if she wanted to go back to theChronicle. Kate had spoken to Jameson and explained that for national security reasons Brittany had had to bury the story, but as soon as they had the okay, she would have the exclusive.
But Brittany wasn’t sure she wanted to go back. The freelance idea had merit—especially if that meant she could stay in California. For almost a week Brittany had been in San Diego at Brandon’s old beach house, which unbeknownst to her, he’d bought a few years ago. Therewere so many things she didn’t know about her brother, but she hoped John would help fill in the blanks for her when he arrived later tonight.
Brandon had rented the beach house out to some of the local SEALs while he was stationed in Hawaii, but he’d planned to come back to it someday. Now, with his death, it belonged to her. As the SEALs who were renting it out were currently deployed overseas, John thought it was the perfect place for her to recuperate while he and the other survivors decided how to handle the discovery that Russian agents were apparently behind the failed mission.
No one knew she was here. Although Mick was dead and appeared to have been acting alone, she still had a couple teams of SEALs looking out for her. John hadn’t been able to call in favors, as he was still supposed to be dead, but his former chief, Colt Wesson, had done so on his behalf. The guys stationed at the base in Coronado were only too happy to keep any eye on a former Teamguy’s sister.
Brittany thought it was one of them “stopping by to check in on her” when the doorbell rang.
It was UPS, and whatever it was required a signature. She signed illegibly, and the delivery guy came back with two big boxes. One was addressed to the family of Brandon Blake and the other to the family of John Donovan. They’d been sent from the base in Hawaii.
Brittany reeled back as if she’d just slammed her recently healed face into the door, realizing it was their personal effects.
She opened John’s first—he could accuse her of being nosy later. There was a letter addressed to her brother, which she didn’t touch, but her heart squeezed, realizing that her brother had been his only family, too—that’s why he’d had his stuff sent here. Now they would have each other.
The rest of the items were mostly clothes, including a stack of very ugly Hawaiian shirts that she was tempted to toss in the garbage. She wasn’t surprised that there wasn’t much that was personal except for a framed picture of him and his mom taken at one of his water polo games. He had a gold medal around his neck and his mom was beaming.
The lack of the personal didn’t surprise her, but she vowed that would change. For both of them. She reached down to pet what she hoped would be the beginning of that: their new kitten, which John didn’t know about yet.
Brittany was tempted to name her something ridiculous like Fluffums or Snuggly Bear—just to make him have to call her that—but she couldn’t do that to any female even in the name of fun. Besides, the orange tabby with shimmering light green eyes, rescued from the local pound, was much too dignified for that.
Brittany had decided on Ariel.
Suspecting she was going to need her wine for what came next, Brittany took a fortifying sip before opening Brandon’s box. Unlike when she’d gone through John’s, it was strange to go through her brother’s belongings. She barely knew him, whereas with John it hadn’t felt that way.
It wasn’t until she’d gotten to the bottom of the box that she saw the envelope addressed to her.
Tears filled her eyes even before she opened it. She curled up on the couch with her wine and Ariel in her lap and started to read.
By the time she finished, tears were streaming down her cheeks. She was so overwhelmed by what she read that she didn’t even hear the door open.
“Jesus, Brit, what’s wrong?”
Brittany looked up to see John standing there. Despite how happy she was to see him, she didn’t move other than to hold the letter up to him. “Did you know about this?”
He’d obviously seen the opened boxes when he walkedin and realized what they were. He barely glanced at the letter before nodding.
Brittany’s chest was so tight with emotion she could barely speak. “This is what you were talking about when you said I should have trusted him?”
John nodded again and sat down next to her. He was momentarily surprised when the kitten hopped on his leg before jumping off the couch, but he didn’t stop to ask questions before taking Brittany into his arms.
Feeling those big, strong arms around her opened the floodgates. Her crying got harder—a lot harder—as she wept for her lost brother.
The brother she would never have the chance to apologize to.
The brother she hadn’t really known.
The brother she should have trusted.
She had blamed Brandon for changing his story after their parents were killed, but he’d only done it to protect her. The Saudi diplomat had threatened to have her kidnapped and sold as some old man’s sex slave. In the letter, Brandon apologized for what he’d done, saying that he’d only been eighteen. He’d been scared and hadn’t known what to do.
