She rolled her eyes. “Bring her back and be nice. She’s fragile.”
Nice was the last thing he’d be. Brighton had been nothing but trouble since she’d arrived. No??—since he’d met her a year ago. Rankled, he opened the truck door. “Hup.” He waited until Grief sailed into the cab and parked himself on the passenger seat before climbing in behind him. Even as he pulled out, he was struck by Brooke’s comments. Strange that she was showing more concern over Tizzy.
Gotta stop calling her that.
Windows down, he drove around the cabin and onto the far side of the parking lot. As he hit the mile-long driveway, his phone rang. “Yeah.”
“Hey,” Rowe said. “I’m at my desk. Gate security hasn’t been tripped and neither have any of the perimeter sensors.”
They’d set those up to track bear and wildlife intrusion onto the property, since guests often walked the trails. And if the sensors hadn’t been tripped, then Brighton was still on the property.
“Okay, thanks.” He slowed the truck, probing the trees and open stretches for sign of her. He recalled the pink shirt she’d had on. Should be easy to spot.
Grief stuck his nose out the window, pulling hard draughts of air while Stone scanned the trees on both sides of the drive. He’d give her a piece of his mind. What was she thinking, running off like this? Did she want to get caught? Was she that anxious to get back to her work?
Grief bolted out the window and tore off. Had he found Brighton? Stone parked to the side, grabbed his hat, and climbed out. As he donned his hat, he caught a flash of pink in the opposite direction from Grief’s trajectory. Squinting, he peered down the slope.
About a hundred yards from the perimeter fence and county road, Brighton sat at the base of a tree, hugging her knees. He wasn’t close enough to tell for sure, but it seemed she was crying.
Crap. Stone swallowed. They’d come a long way from nights of movies and laughter. Her in his arms, the music sultry and low …
But then, none of that had been real. All that time, she’d been working him.
After double-checking for Grief??—what had he torn off after???—Stone started toward Brighton, his sister’s admonishment to be nice, that Brighton was broken, echoing in his thick skull. He had thirty paces to wrestle his antagonism into line.
Only when she glanced up and scrambled to her feet, shifting away from him??—pain contorting her face??—did he realize he’d stopped. “Leave me alone!”
“Easy.”
“Don’t! Don’t yell at me again.” Tears smeared rivulets down her muddied face as she protected her left foot. Was she injured? “I am not staying. I’m leaving. I’ve called Cord.”
Stone started at that. “You did what?” He stomped forward.
Brighton shuffled back. “Stop! Leave me?—” She stepped wrong, tried to catch her footing, but her feet slipped out from under her, sending her crashing down in a puddled heap.
He started forward but she let out a shriek that stilled him.
Auburn hair stringy and flecked with mud, she pounded the ground, creating a slurping noise in the muck. “I didn’t want this!” Words scraped and strained from her throat. “I don’t want to be here. Don’t want to hear or see every day what I did to you, that you hate me. It wasn’t me?—I didn’t want to hurt you! It was the last thing I wanted. I was happy. We were happy.” She choked back a sob. Literally growled. “Just … leave me alone. I’m going. Trying. Don’t tell me again that you hate me. I can’t stand to hear it again. Please …” She shook her head. “No more.”
Eyes closed, Stone swallowed the rawness of the words she’d howled. He roughed a hand over his face and hung his head. Looked at her.
Muddy hands to her face, she sobbed.
He might hate himself, but he didn’t hate her. As much as he’d tried to convince himself of that since he’d left Baltimore, he didn’t. Couldn’t. Brooke was right?—Brighton had gotten under his skin. Bad.
Regret nudged him closer, quietly, carefully, then he crouched. Couldn’t bring himself to look into those brown eyes. He had no idea where to start. Until he noticed her gripping her ankle. “What happened to your leg?”
“Tripped,” she said around a sniffle.
“Is it broken?”
“No … I—” She shrugged. “Don’t think so.”
He nodded, not sure what to do next. There was no plan to consult. “Let’s get you back to the lodge.”
“No.” Defiant brown eyes snapped to him. “I’m not staying locked in a room for another week. I can’t take that or you yelling at me every time I make a move or even breathe wrong. Please … Just … Go. I’ll find a way … out.”
Feeling every bit the buffoon his sister had called him, Stone stared at the ground, then back in the direction Grief had taken off. “You can’t walk, and you’re covered in mud. So, let’s get you cleaned up and … we’ll talk. Think we both need to get a few things off our chests.”
