around.” He smiled a trifle ruefully. “We didn’t really work at the friendship. I think we both took it for granted. Only now he’s gone—” He stopped. “I’m sorry. You don’t need reminding. ”
“Sure I do. ” I tucked my hand into the crook of his arm and urged him onward again. “We’ll both remember him the way we knew him, and it’ll keep him alive.”
His sigh was deep and ragged. “Hell, Kelly—I didn’t even make it to the funeral.”
“Neither did I,” I said grimly, feeling the familiar twinge of guilt.
He made a dismissive sound. “You were in the hospital.”
“So I was.” We walked on, me aware of the scars on my arms and head and Brandon aware of me. I could feel it radiating from him. And yet I could say nothing to him. There was too much space between us. There was Tucker also, and I had no wish to replace him as yet. Brandon, at times, I hardly knew.
At last he walked me to my cabin. His face was pensive and solemn, and yet as I lifted my head to thank him for the company, he smiled. His hands came down on my shoulders, holding me in one place, and I could feel the warmth and nearness of his big, comforting body.
“There is all the time in the world, Kelly. I understand what you feel. Don’t try to sort everything out at once just for me; it’ll only confuse you further.” One finger slipped up beneath my bangs, tracing the line of the scar. “Just give everything some time, okay? I will.”
“There are a whole lot of people out there who don’t understand that,” I told him. “Men especially.”
“You’ll always be chased,” he promised. “But then, you know that.”
“And I’ll be caught when I want to be,” I agreed. “Not before. Certainly not now.”
He smiled. “You’re not the sort of woman a man likes to see spending time in her own company. Not that I blame them.” His smile broadened into a boyish grin. “I just know how to wait better.”
“And if the waiting comes to nothing?” I wasn’t about to lie to him, lead him on. I could promise Brandon nothing.
“It’s your decision,” he said gently. “You’ll get no pressure from me. And now—I think it’s time for me to go.”
It was a gentle, tender kiss. Not the sort to set bells to ringing or skyrockets exploding. Just something done in friendship and warmth, and it nearly undid me.
It would have been easy to forget he was Brandon, if only for a moment. Darkness had fallen long since; the shadows from the pine copse were secretive and seductive, and he even wore the cologne Tucker had favored. For a moment I pressed myself against him, longing to banish the ghosts once and for all.
But they wouldn’t quite go.
“Sweet dreams,” he whispered, and walked away.
I watched him leave, bemused by my feelings. I knew he was right. I couldn’t spend my life mourning Tucker, and I didn’t want to be alone. Not forever. But at the moment Tucker was irreplaceable.
I shook my head briefly, then opened my door and went in. I slapped at the wall on my right to locate the light switch, found it, and flicked it on to illuminate the cabin. I shoved the door closed with one foot and stripped awkwardly out of my blazer, moving into the bedroom automatically. And I promptly stepped on one of the paperbacks I’d brought with me for bedtime company.
I retrieved it from the middle of the floor, blowing grains of dust from the pages. The cover was bent at one corner as if someone had dropped it; I hadn’t. It had been brand new, unblemished the night before, and I had left it sitting squarely on the bedside table with bookmark in place.
The book fell open easily to the spot marked by the bookmark. Nothing remarkable in that, save I hadn’t gotten that far yet. Someone had stuck it in the wrong place.
Frowning, I dropped it on the bed and began a systematic check of my things. I was usually never one for noting exactly where and how I placed things, but after a thorough examination of the cabin I had no choice but to believe someone had been there after I had left with Brandon. Nothing was missing, but someone had searched my belongings carefully.
Without further thought I grabbed my key and hastened out of the cabin, intent on reporting the incident to Nathan. The