Mine - HelenKay Dimon Page 0,106
and deal with him, anger and all.
He headed for the stairs. By the third step the weight of the potential loss hit him. His knees buckled and he grabbed the railing. Alone sucked. Being without her would prove unbearable. He didn’t have to live through those bleak days to know he was right.
After another few seconds he headed back to the kitchen and grabbed the keys. Now he had to just hope the right words would come . . . and that he wasn’t too late.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Natalie stared out the car window and watched the trees whiz by. She traced her finger over the window until she couldn’t handle the silence one more second.
She glanced over at Andy. “Just say it.”
“You have balls.”
She watched the gate shut behind them as they drove off the main property and headed for the road. She couldn’t hear it but imagined the clanking of a jail cell, only this time it kept her out rather than protected her inside. “Gabe is furious.”
“Yeah.” Andy made the final turn and headed for the cabin.
“He refused to listen.”
“Did you give him a chance?” Andy never took his eyes off the road.
Natalie studied him, looking for any signs that his anger matched Gabe’s. But nothing. Once or twice Andy even whistled. He’d cut it off as soon as it started, but he wasn’t yelling.
That took her mind to the other brother. The one who heaped all trouble on the family only to find out he’d been wrong all along. She almost felt sorry for him . . . almost. “Rick was not going to let this go.”
Andy nodded. “I agree.”
“So, I sped up the process.” She felt the need to keep talking, to justify, because if she let her mind wander back to Gabe, the pain would settle in. Arguing gave her a focus. The quiet would eat her alive.
“That’s where your reasoning goes haywire.” Andy pulled into the space next to the cabin.
“You should have run the test.”
Andy scoffed. “Now it’s my fault?”
An old pickup sat just off the main drive in the gravel. With it being daylight, there were no lights on and it was too cold for windows and doors to be open. The structure showed no signs of life and Natalie hoped that meant Rick had moved on. He needed to grieve but he should do it in private.
“You’re his brother.” She didn’t have siblings but she knew that family loyalty meant something.
“And you’re his girlfriend.”
The word spun through her and landed with a hard thud. “Hardly.”
Andy turned off the engine and faced her then. “You’re sleeping with him.”
“That was sex.” She suddenly felt trapped. She reached for the handle and opened the door. A welcome rush of cool air blew over her.
“That’s not what he said.”
No, he’d made promises or said things that sounded like promises. He offered her a place to stay and a future to plan for. Then he snatched it all away, and she couldn’t figure out how to feel anything. “Well, he forgot whatever he said there in the last few minutes.”
“He can yell.”
“I’m not a fan.” She got up because sitting there made her twitchy. She needed to move. First came the planning, but then she’d have to hit the road. Snow would settle in soon and she wanted to be long gone before getting stuck in that.
Andy got out and stared at her over the roof of the car. “You never yell?”
“You can be annoying.”
“Not the first time I’ve heard that.” Andy slammed the car door. “Gabe points it out now and then.”
“I suppose you think that shows we have something in common.”
“No, the fact that you’re a lot alike suggests you have something in common.” Andy laughed at his joke.
Natalie couldn’t even muster up a smile. It was as if she’d been cut off from amusement and now she just spied a long stretch of dreary loneliness in front of her. She’d never dwelled before on the idea of going through life alone. She assumed she’d have her work and that would be her focus. Then Gabe walked into her life making promises and she understood why people planned.
When Gabe snatched his offer and her hope away, he snatched those promises, too. “I just . . .”
“Care about him.”
She met Andy at the front of the car, right near the overhang of the cabin porch. “I thought I did.”
“Come on. I don’t believe for a second your emotions shift around that easily.”
She never thought so either, but