Page 47

The first drop of rain hit my forearm as I climbed into the passenger side of the Gator.

“I don't think we have time to get back to the barn,” I yelled over the rumble of thunder and now howling wind. A bolt of lightning several miles away zipped down, lighting up the sky. “We need to find cover away from the river in case of a flash flood.”

“Where?” Brenton shouted back as he turned the key.

“There's a little shelter for this kind of thing.” Glancing down at the compass on my watch, I pointed west. “That way.”

It only took a few minutes to get there, but by the time we made it to the basic structure, the lightning had grown close and filled the sky with quick, jagged bolts. Sheets of rain pounded against the thin tin roof above us seconds after we pulled in. With the earlier snake scare still fresh in my memory, I spotlighted every inch of the dusty floor—twice—before stepping out.

Brenton stood along the front of the shelter with his shoulder pressed against a support beam, watching the downpour. A cool mist blew in, leaving a damp sheen along my exposed arms and face. Even with the warm temperature, a shiver shook my shoulders at the contrast between the two.

Another spark of lightning illuminated the sky, followed by a resounding crack of thunder.

“You learn to have a healthy respect for storms like this as a pilot. They can pop up anytime, or sometimes you even have to fly directly into one to complete a mission.” He sighed and cracked his knuckles. “I miss it. Miss them, my brothers. But....” The next flash of lightning showed Brenton's attention fixed on me instead of the storm. “This, us, will be a challenge to walk away from. Maybe me not remembering was my mind’s way of protecting myself from the greatness of what I had to leave behind to outrun my addictions. But which was the greater cost? Losing the addictions, or losing you?”

The thud of the tailgate falling was eliminated by the pounding rain all around us. Situating myself on the edge, I kicked my boots under me and focused out into the darkness. “You chose the route that cost less monetarily. But think about this—you also wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't walked away. You can't make amends dead. And that's what would’ve happened. Just look at your brother. Look at what almost happened to mine.”

“About that.” The Gator jostled under his massive weight as he sat to my right. “I'm paying off the money Bradley owes, and you're not going to say two shits about it. It was Caleb's debt, and I won't allow your brother, or you, to pay for it.”

“Fine,” I grumbled. “Figured that was coming, so I'd already mentally prepared myself for it.”

His shoulder nudged mine. “Something tells me you like orders more than you let on.”

A broad smile he couldn’t see broke across my cheeks. “You have no idea, but hopefully, one day, you will. Now that we aren't hunting and we have some time on our hands, I'll tell you the revelation I had on your head stuff earlier. This will be hard to hear for someone like you, so prepare yourself.”

The bed shifted beneath us as he wiggled around. Light from the next flick of lightning revealed him on his back, a hand tucked behind his head.

“Ready as I'll ever be. Hope this works.”

My fingers skimmed across the rugged plastic in search of his. I sealed my eyes shut when my fingertips touched the soft skin of his forearm. Up and down I brushed along the solid muscle, savoring each inch. Reaching his fingers, I laced his with mine and set our connected hands on his strong thigh.

“Here it goes. You actually have zero control over the things you think you do.” His fingers tightened around mine, cutting off the circulation. “I know that’s hard to hear, but for a control freak like you, you're under this false sense of security that you can control outcomes, control other people’s actions. You have to let go of the weight you're carrying from Caleb's death. It wasn't your fault, Brenton. Caleb made his own choices, just like you did. Just like I did. The only control in this world we truly have is in what we say, how we make others feel, our thoughts and actions. Outside of that, no one has control. No one. Not even rich, arrogant men like you. Stop fighting it. Accept it and try to move on.”

The near-deafening beat of the rain around us filled the small space.

“I could've done more,” he choked out. “Hell, I have more money than most countries and still.... Maybe if I wouldn't have left—”

“Stop. You think you had control over the outcome, over your brother's actions? You didn't. It was all Caleb's choice. You loved him and didn't give up on him. That's all you could do.” Ass growing achy, I stood and maneuvered my hips between his spread knees. “You know how, before takeoff, the flight attendant says, 'Put your oxygen mask on before assisting others—‘”

“Do they say that?”

“Seriously? You've never listened?”

“I've never flown commercial. It's either been private or military for me.”

“Wow. Skip fancy pants. You just moved yourself up to Sir Fancy Pants. Anyway, yes, they do say that. At least they did the one time I flew. And that's what you did when you left. You put your mask on first. You can't save someone if you're suffocating too. And not only that, B. You can give someone the mask, but you can't make them breathe.”

“I'm just so fucking angry. Angry at myself, at Dad—hell, at the world. I don't know how to let it go. Every time I think about my past—”

Gripping his thighs, I squeezed them hard to get him to stop talking. “Brenton, your past does not define you. My past sure as hell doesn't define me. It molded us, yes, but it's not who we are now. For me, being the brunt of Daddy's frustrations and the cause of everything wrong in the world isn't who I am, but it made me stronger, I think.”

Damn, this was confusing. When did it become my therapy session too?

“Beks,” he said, barely louder than the pounding rain.

I shifted closer to his lips, my heart hammering against my chest at our proximity and position. “Yeah?”

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I don't think I'll ever recover from this.”