Reese got through the shower in record time, only a little disappointed that Brantley hadn’t joined him. He finished up by brushing his teeth with his toothbrush, which was still in the holder on the counter. He stared at it for a moment, wondering why Brantley had kept it. He wasn’t sure he could’ve done the same if their roles had been reversed.
When he came out of the bathroom, Brantley was standing at the back door, staring out into the night. The door was partially opened, Tesha sniffing around the yard.
Before Reese could say anything, Brantley spoke. “I hate you for what you did.”
You know that painful moment when you take the plunge into icy water and it steals your breath and makes your body hurt? Or that moment when a bullet pierces your chest and the fires of hell sear every nerve ending? This was so much worse than that.
“I know.” Reese exhaled heavily. “Not as much as I hate myself for it.”
Brantley continued to stare out the door. “I thought nothing could be worse than the day that building came down on top of me. I knew that my career was over, my life irrevocably changed.” He glanced back at Reese, his eyes spitting fire. “It didn’t hold a candle to the pain I felt when you went to her that night.”
Reese swallowed past the lump in his throat. “I didn’t—” He stopped himself. “I know.”
Brantley spun around then. “Youdon’tknow, Reese! You don’t fucking know.” His eyes glittered with what looked like unshed tears. “It fucking gutted me when I found out you were with her. I trusted you. I trusted you to fucking talk to me.”
Reese inhaled, and it felt like shards of glass were rattling around in his lungs, nicking him at every turn.
“I fucking loved you!” Brantley exclaimed.
Ah, hell. Those shards turned into sharp, jagged blades slicing him open from the inside. Hearing that word in the past tense shredded him.
Brantley dragged in a ragged breath, then shoved out an exhale. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
Reese stared as Brantley stormed past him, through the living room, and down the hall.
He didn’t dare go after him. The last thing he wanted was to push Brantley past his breaking point. It was clear he was hovering on the brink, so it was best to keep his distance.
With his heart shattered in pieces and a physical ache gnawing through his insides, Reese closed the sliding door, ensured the dog door was open so Tesha could come back in when she was ready, then headed upstairs. He went to the office they’d designed for him shortly before things fell apart. Like the toothbrush, he was surprised to see everything was the same, right down to the notepad sitting on the desktop, covered—like everything else—in a fine layer of dust. He walked over, glanced at the writing. It was his own. Notes about the case they’d been working on right before they left for the training session in Dallas.
Right before Reese had single-handedly brought it all down.
He dropped into the chair, leaned back, and closed his eyes.
His chest was tight, but not from the bullet wound that had pained him for so long. No, this was emotion clogging his insides. The same emotion he’d been battling for months. He should’ve come back as soon as they’d let him out of the hospital. He should’ve explained himself to Brantley, admitted he was at fault, begged for forgiveness. He probably would’ve received it.
Instead, he’d opted to work on himself, to piece himself back together. While his body had been on the mend, his heart slowly broke down, torn apart by his own actions.
He opened his eyes, stared out the door to the open door across the way.
Getting to his feet, he headed over to Brantley’s office. The desk lamp was on, the laptop no longer sitting on the top, another layer of dust coating the top of everything. It looked as though Brantley hadn’t used this space in a while. Probably spent most of his time in the barn with the rest of the team.
He peered down at the black leather sofa, remembered the time Brantley had fucked him right there. Hell, there weren’t many places in this house that he could look that wouldn’t offer a reminder of an intimate moment they’d shared.
The grief of losing the best thing he’d ever known resurfaced, had his knees going weak. He sat down on the couch, yanked his shirt off, tossed it to the floor, and then stretched out his legs. For some strange reason, he felt closer to Brantley here in this room.
With those memories filling his mind, he closed his eyes and drifted off.
*
BRANTLEY COULDN’T SLEEP.
He tossed and turned, his mind running a million miles a second.
He should’ve been thinking about the case, about finding the missing woman, but the only thing he could focus on was the fact that Reese was in the house with him. It took effort not to go searching for him, to take the solace he knew Reese was willing to give. Brantley craved it, needed it more than the air he breathed.
But as much as he wanted Reese, as desperate as he was to find his way back to him, Brantley wasn’t sure he could commit. And fucking for the sake of fucking wasn’t something he was willing to indulge in with Reese. For some fucked up reason, Brantley didn’t want to hurt him that way. He didn’t want to lead him on or pretend that everything was all right. What’d happened earlier never should’ve happened. Brantley had taken advantage, and for that, he was disappointed in himself.
So he remained where he was, staring up at the dark ceiling, listening to the silence of the house. He heard the flap of the dog door. A minute later, he felt a soft shift on the bed, knew Tesha had hopped up there to join him. She curled into a ball at the end of the bed, exactly as she’d done every night since Reese left.
