Yes?—fiercely. You saw the fruits of it.
He had to be an idiot to consider this, open his heart and life back up to her.
But he was considering it, wasn’t he?
I’m too old for her anyway.
Not really. There was an age gap, yet … it somehow worked for them. His conversations with her had always been good, filled with theological, eschatological, psychological explorations and so on. She’d offered so much, filled a companionship hole he hadn’t even known existed. He’d learned and appreciated that Brighton wasn’t the average twenty-something woman. She had a lifetime of experience and pain that knocked her solidly into a mid-thirties mindset and personality. Now that she was back, she was showing him that betrayal had many forms and histories.
Mature?—that was the word for her. How could she not be after all that had been done to her? All she’d been forced to do? She had betrayed him that one time, but hadn’t she been betrayed time and again by men who should’ve been protecting her?
He tucked his chin. Stroked his beard, recalling his vow after Marie’s infidelity to never again be protector to anyone. Never fall in love or marry. But then, Brighton plowed into his life. Her abuse she’d suffered made him want to hurt someone. Bad. And protect her, make sure nobody ever hurt her again. Here at the lodge, he could keep her safe. They could …
Man, could they make it work?
So, guess this makes me an idiot.
The phone rang violently, jerking Stone from the conviction dogging his thoughts. “Hello.”
“How’s it going?” Cord sounded way too casual.
“Nobody’s dead, if that’s what you’re asking.” Man, this was it?—wasn’t it? He was calling to say Brighton would be leaving. Stone wanted to say good riddance … His fingers curled into a fist.
“Good,” Cord laughed. “Wasn’t sure after that introduction.”
“You mean ambush.”
More laughter, but it was … off. “Fair enough.”
Watching the clock, Stone felt every tick of the hands like hammers chipping away what little time remained. They’d had ten days, and he’d wasted most of it being angry. Yelling. And now, with Cord calling, she’d be gone in less than twenty-four hours.
He shifted his gaze back to the planner and the call. “Did you manage to save the world in time?” Where Stone expected even more laughter, there was instead an ominous pause. Suddenly his plans seemed like ravenous wolves. “Things good? You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. Sure. But uh …”
Familiar with that hesitation, Stone stilled. Knew what was coming. Conflicted, he held his breath. Half of him needed Brighton out of here. Half hoped?—
“Look,” Cord said, “I know we said a week or two.”
“You swore.” There was no conviction in Stone’s words.
“Things here are taking longer than expected. There are complications.”
Tell me about it. At some point, he’d stood, unsure whether he was angry or relieved. “How long?” That’s what Cord was saying, right? That he couldn’t come for Brighton yet.
“Two more weeks.”
Stone closed his eyes, not sure how to feel. Nah, not true. He was relieved. Which made no sense. Absently, he traced the planner entry for tomorrow. He’d have time to fix things with her. Figure out how to wade through his grief, see past all his well-laid plans to … her. He stroked his beard, a move that this time teased her words about liking him better without it through his chest. “Two.”
“Maybe three.”
“Cord?—”
“I hear you. I do. But you know me, man. I wouldn’t do this unless absolutely necessary. And, you have to admit, moving her, drawing attention to yourself or that location would put both of you at risk. They’re looking for her?—and I think that’s why we’re having issues here.”
Not liking the sound of that, Stone frowned. “How so?”
“We’ve got some heat on us right now, tails and such. Gotta play it smart, and going anywhere near her …”
