Her heart filled with love when she remembered all the good times they’d had together...before their mom had passed. Sadness tore at her when Brynnon’s thoughts turned to the dark times after. When Billy struggled with drugs before straightening himself out.
A more recent memory struck, along with overwhelming guilt.
“I saw him arguing with someone,” she spoke woodenly.
Grant’s gaze spun toward hers. “When?”
“The night of the ball.” She turned to face him. “I was waiting for you to get our coats, and I saw him through the glass doors. He was standing across the street, and he looked upset.”
“Who was he arguing with?”
Brynnon shook her head, tears welling heavily in her eyes. Emotion leaving her voice rough. Raspy.
“I don’t know. He was wearing a dark coat and hat. His back was to me. I thought about going over there, just to check on him, you know? But I was too selfish.”
Reaching over, Grant covered one of her hands with his. “Why do you say that?”
She gave Grant a sad smile. “I had a feeling things were finally about to happen between us. I didn’t want...” Brynnon put a hand to her trembling lips. After taking a few seconds to compose herself, she glanced out the window again. “I didn’t want Billy’s never-ending drama to interrupt our night.”
“You’re allowed to have a life, Bryn.”
“What if it was the person who shot him? What if I could’ve done something to keep this from happening? I should have gone over there. I should’ve—”
“Hey,” he squeezed her hand. “Look at me.”
Brynnon swiped the tears from her face, but continued staring out the window. Grant refused to let it go. Speaking more sternly, he gave the order again.
“Brynnon, look at me.”
Reluctantly, she did.
There was an unyielding certainty in his eyes when he told her, “This is not your fault.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes,” he stated with confidence. “I do. If you’d gone over there, it could’ve escalated the situation. You told me before, Billy had a tendency to hang with the wrong crowd, so—”
“Are you saying this was his fault?”
“Maybe,” he answered bluntly. “Maybe not. I can’t tell you that, but what I do know is whatever happened tonight isnoton you. So, get that shit out of your head right now.”
Brynnon still wasn’t convinced, but she also wasn’t in the mood to argue. Instead, she told him about the conversation she’d had with Billy when he’d called her earlier.
“He seemed agitated. I thought he was just upset about what happened at the cabin, but...” She swallowed back more tears. “Do you think the person who shot him also set the bomb?”
“It’s possible,” Grant told her honestly. “What did Billy say to you?”
Brynnon thought a moment. “Not a lot. H-he asked if I was okay, and then told me again and again how sorry he was. He kept repeating it. I thought it was because I’d lost the cabin, but now, I’m not so sure.”
Grant’s spine straightened. “You think, maybe he had something to do with it?”
“No,” she adamantly denied the question, despite the fact that she’d just been wondering the same thing. “Billy and I had our fair share of issues, but he’d never try to hurt me.”
Though the statement came out with unquestionable certainty, a sliver of doubt began creeping in as Brynnon thought back to the way he sounded on the phone.
At least, I never thought he would.
With a sideways glance, Grant squeezed her hand. “You’re probably right. He probably just felt bad because he knows how much you loved the cabin.”
