Crave (His Second Chance with Heiress Bryn Christmas Duet #1) - Z.L. Arkadie Page 0,10

learn that lesson. I didn’t want to be Bronwyn Henrietta Christmas. I hated that girl. I felt I deserved hell on earth, and Dale was just a start. Out of all the children my father had produced by inflicting violence on innocent girls, he’d chosen to use me and the brothers I’d grown up with to make him appear normal. My name was evidence of that. Blue-blooded. Rich. Lofty.

Screw my father and Dale, I’d thought back then. Screw her too. Screw Bronwyn Henrietta Christmas.

I never made it to Twin Towers. The officers received a call while en route. A man with a gruff voice ordered them to take me to the Lighthouse Recovery Center. One of the officers shouted that it was too late—I was as good as booked.

“What the fuck? Take her!” the guy over the radio said. “And I know you two fucking fucks. Nothing better happen to her, or your asses are grass. And you don’t want to fuck with her brother.”

“Who’s her brother?”

“Jasper fucking Christmas,” the voice blared.

It got deathly quiet in the car. My brother’s name repeated in my mind. Then, as further evidence of my mental breakdown, I started crying for him.

There was no more taunting or talking after that. I was taken straight to the recovery center. That wasn’t my final stint in rehab, but it was the last day I saw Dale Rumor. I later learned that Dale had called Jasper to let him know I’d been arrested. It wasn’t that he was looking out for me, though. He was afraid that if Jasper found out he’d been the reason I was taken to jail, he would incur the wrath of my brother. I doubted that would have happened. Jasper would never have let me spend more than a day in jail, but he was all about me taking responsibility for my inappropriate behavior. Even though his motives were selfish, calling my brother was the last good deed Dale had ever done for me.

I didn’t want to lie to Eden, but it didn’t feel like the appropriate time to tell her the truth about my past relationship with Dale. A pinch of anger raced through me. I didn’t let it catch fire and burn down all the progress I’d made by getting happy. But I had to think it was strange to run into Jamison on Sunday and Dale on Monday. Is that a good or bad sign?

“That’s right,” Eden said jubilantly. “The two of you know each other.”

I forced a smile. I was right on the money—he hadn’t told her everything about us. If he had, her tone would have been the direct opposite of happy.

“Hi, Dale.” I kept my voice deadpan.

“Good seeing you, Bryn.” He sounded cordial and casual, as if there was no reason to let his girlfriend know that we used to be an item.

I pressed my lips together.

Eden patted him on the shoulder. “Now, go. Bryn and I have work to do.”

I found it interesting that Eden hadn’t picked up on the cold formality between Dale and me. I wondered if she was ignoring it on purpose. What did he tell her, anyway? At least I strongly believed the ambush had been Dale’s doing—which, again, wasn’t at all surprising. I would have to tell her about us at some point. Hopefully, she was more intuitive than I was giving her credit for, and at some point during our long day together, she would ask, “So, what’s the deal with you and Dale?” If that happened, I felt like I would tell her everything—the bad, the worse, and the ugly.

Eden and I had had our first in-person meeting on October 27 the previous year. We ate lunch at a vegan restaurant in the Venice Beach area near Abbot Kinney—her choice. She pointed out six well-known actors, who were seated around us, all dressed as if they’d just finished a spin or yoga class at a nearby gym. I took note of how she brought her fellow thespians to my attention. I could tell that she liked being in the mix but didn't want anyone to perceive how much she enjoyed it. She herself looked pretty casual in a pair of tight navy blue stretch pants and a blousy T-shirt with the word Lollygag across the chest, with her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She capped off her outfit with the usual celebrity’s touch—mirrored aviator shades. The purpose of our meeting was to find out if we had