"Not once," she answered for him.
"And how many times have you asked Michael for help?" he countered. "It takes a lot of nerve to
sponge off your brother, expecting him to pick up the pieces."
"I didn't run to him," Brenna replied, her temper beginning to fray. "He offered. He knew I needed help, and he offered. There's a difference." Her hands clenched into fists beneath the table. "And as for support-you've confused emotional support with financial support."
"Only weak people need either one."
Brenna sighed. Whether she agreed with him was immaterial. Their differences would never change, and hoping for something more was futile. She stood up to leave. "I've got a lot to do this morning. I'll talk to you later."
"I haven't dismissed you," he said.
Brenna stopped at the kitchen doorway. "I'm not a child to be dismissed."
"You've never stopped being a child," he said, his voice harsh. "In all the ways that matter, you never matured into an adult. When things get tough, you turn into a pansy. And why your brother puts up with-"
"Maybe he loves me."
"Something you take advantage of every chance you get."
"I've never taken advantage of Michael." Brenna felt her discipline slip, the calm mask behind which she hid her temper dissolve. She had to leave now before they both said things they would regret. At that she winced. She might have regrets. She doubted her father had a single one.
"You've been doing just that for months, without earning enough money to help him out."
She folded her arms across her chest, feeling compelled to defend herself though every ounce of logic told her to do so was tilting at windmills.
"That's not true." Without realizing, she extended a hand to her father. "What's really the problem here? I'm moving out, and that proves I can support myself again. I'm getting my life back together, and I don't intend to make the same mistakes I've made before. I want to go to school. All the things you've said time and again I had to do. Okay. I'm doing them." She touched her chest with her hand. "For me. Not for you. Not for anyone else. For me."
"That's the way it's always been for you, Brenna. You don't think of anyone else. You broke your mother's heart when you ran away from home. And now." He turned in his chair. "Michael told me you spent the money she saved for you. You just couldn't wait to throw it-"
"That money was a godsend," she retorted. "It got me out of the bottom of a hole I would have spent the next ten years in."
Brenna felt movement behind her, and glanced over her shoulder. Michael stood there, dressed only in jeans, his dark hair sleep-tousled.
"Yesterday you told me the money didn't matter," Michael said. "That you didn't care how she spent it."
"You stay out of this!" the Colonel ordered. "She's been wasting her time, her talent, and taking the easy way out for years."
Cole approached the door of the apartment, the sound of angry voices carrying through the open window of the kitchen. Though he had never heard the voice, he recognized it at once. Clear, decisive. Each word enunciated with clipped precision. Brenna's father.
Brenna's voice, when it came a second later, was calm in comparison to her father's, and filled with sarcasm. "That's right, Dad," she said. "My life has been real easy."
Cole knew as surely as the sun blazed in the morning sky he had arrived just in time. Right, he mocked himself. If you had been in time, she wouldn't be in there facing this alone. If you had been in time, she wouldn't even be here.
Cole knocked on the door as the scalding voices continued to pour from the kitchen.
"You've shirked from every challenge you've ever faced," the Colonel said. "It's high time you planned instead of running off on some harebrained scheme."
Teddy, still in pajamas, opened the screen door. "Hi, Cole."
Cole touched the boy's hair. "Hi."
"I know what I want," Brenna said.
"They're having a fight," Teddy said to Cole, his glance straying to the kitchen.
Cole picked up the child and stepped into the apartment. "That they are. Why don't you go back to your room and play. Okay?" "School?" the Colonel scoffed. "This is just another whim. You're going to school, but you haven't applied."
Teddy looked up at Cole. "Do you want to come with me?"
He shook his head. "I'm going to stay and help Brenna."
"Dad," Michael said, "C'mon, arguing won't accomplish anything."
Teddy smiled at Cole. "She'll like that. She's been real sad."
Teddy's reply went through Cole like a knife. He set the boy down. "I know. Now scoot."
"Michael, stay out of it," the Colonel said.
"Like hell," Michael responded. "For years, I've watched you belittle every single thing she ever tried to do. Not once did you tell her you were proud of her. And you know what I hated most about that? I was the stick you used to beat her up with."
Cole moved to the kitchen doorway, unnoticed by the three people inside. Michael's broad back hid Brenna from his view.
"I just wanted her to live up to her potential," the Colonel shouted. "Which she never did. She could have done anything you did if she had just once tried."
"That's always been your bottom line, Dad," Brenna said. "Take a good look at me. I'm not Michael. I'm me. Michael is my brother, and I love him, but I'm not like him. I'm not a genius. Not gifted. Andnot worthless. And I don't have to stand here and listen to you rant at me."
She brushed past Michael and collided with Cole.
He put his hands on her arms to steady her. "Hi."
What little color was left in her face drained away, leaving only a faint line around her lips. Michael glanced over his shoulder, his expression nearly as stunned as Brenna's. Behind Michael, Cole could see Brenna's father, his expression full of irritation and derision.
"Who the hell are you?" the Colonel demanded.
Cole offered the man his hand. "Cole Cassidy. You must be Colonel James. I've heard a lot about you."
Cole was positive only sheer reflex made the Colonel take his hand. When he released it, Cole glanced back down at Brenna who watched him with wide, pain-filled eyes.
Casually as he could muster, Cole said, "I hear you're moving today. Need any help?"
Brenna stared at him. She expected to blink and find him gone. She closed her eyes. When she opened them a moment later, Cole was still there, his hand gently holding her arm. Being with him the other day at the library was the most painful moment she had ever endured. Knowing Cole could hurt her so deeply almost made the pain her father inflicted a preferable choice. Only Cole, no one else, only Cole could break her heart.
He held out his other hand to her. Slowly her eyes lifted from Cole's hand. A hand that knew her intimately, a hand that was warm and strong, a hand that had never given her anything but comfort and pleasure. Cole's mouth was deeply bracketed by creases, and though his expression was grim, she recognized the plea in his eyes asking her to trust him. In that blinding instant, she knew he would not deliberately hurt her.
She placed her hand within Cole's. His fingers wrapped around hers, offering her warmth and reassurance.
He took a backward step toward the door and she followed him.
"Running again?" the Colonel taunted.
Brenna turned around to stare at her father as a stunning realization crystallized for her. "Yes. I am. Sometimes it's the only way to keep myself safe."
She turned her back on her father and led Cole toward the door.
"You're not finished here," the Colonel said.
Cole glanced over his shoulder then turned around to face Brenna's father. "Oh, but she is."
The Colonel leveled a stare that Cole knew was meant to intimidate. "Just who the hell do you think you are?"
"Your future son-in-law," Cole said. "And we might as well get one thing straight right now. If you ever, ever , want to be welcome in our home, you'll give Brenna the respect due her." Cole looked down at Brenna, felt the fine trembling of her body where it brushed against his. His voice gentle, he asked, "Have you had breakfast yet?"
She shook her head without looking at him.
He tipped his head toward her. "Would you like to have breakfast with me?"
"Yes," she replied, meeting his gaze, her eyes clear and direct.
Cole offered Michael his right hand. "I told you if I came back it was for keeps. We'll call later." Cole paused, then turned to face Brenna's father, and after a second offered the man his hand. "When we meet again, sir, I hope it's under better circumstances."
This time the Colonel didn't accept the offered hand. Cole held his out a moment longer, meeting the man's eyes, recognizing the challenge. Cole turned away from the older man, winked at Michael, and walked with Brenna out the front door.
"Cassidy." The Colonel's voice followed them outside in an imperative command.
Cole wanted to ignore it. Instead, he turned around and faced the door, the figures inside shadowy beyond the screen.
"I'm not finished."
"That's where you're wrong."
"I can find you, boy, no matter who you are or what you do, I can ruin you."
"Damn your arrogance." Cole released Brenna's hand, his temper no longer in check. He climbed the two steps to the apartment door. Cole opened the door and held it there with his foot.
The Colonel might be used to operating in an environment where people were cowed by his belligerence. Its effect on Cole was to make him angrier than he had been since the day he had watched Harvey Bates subject Brenna to the same kind of aggression.
"First," Cole said, "don't ever threaten me. I won't be playing by your rules, and I can promise you I give as good as I get. Second, Brenna is a free agent who can go where she wants, when she wants. If she wants to come back in here, I won't stop her. Third, I'm in love with her, and I protect and cherish the people I love. Take that as a threat, Colonel, or a friendly warning. As far as I'm concerned, you can go to hell."
Cole removed his foot from the door and let it slam shut. Turning around, he found Brenna standing in the middle of the sidewalk, her expression stricken.
"Do you want to go back in there or come with me?" He knew his voice was too harsh, but he couldn't help it. Only after the words were out of his mouth did be recognize they sounded like an ultimatum.
"With you," she answered without a shred of hesitation or doubt. Cole smiled and took her hand. Her own answering smile wasn't much, but she squeezed his hand. He helped her into the Jeep, then slid behind the steering wheel.
Brenna glanced at Cole when the vehicle pulled away from the curb. Her thoughts raced, but one overwhelming fact stayed with her. Cole had defended her. She hadn't expected to ever have his friendship again, much less his love.
Cole negotiated the Jeep through traffic, a pair of reflective sunglasses hiding his eyes. His expression was harsh, though, and she wondered what he was thinking.
Son-in-law.A thrill of anticipation shot through her. Somehow, things would be all right.
Absently her attention focused on the mountains that drew closer as Cole drove northwest and she understood he was taking her home. Afternoon thunderstorms would gather over the mountains later, but for now, there wasn't a cloud in the sky. Like life, Brenna thought. She and Cole had problems to solve. For the moment, though, their future seemed as clear as the summer sky.
She hadn't dared hope he would forgive her for deceiving him. Now that she had a second chance, she was determined to give Cole the kind of honesty he deserved. No evasions. No lies by omissions. No deceptions. Not even small ones.
By the time Cole exited the highway for the last lap toward home, he decided that he had been too heavy-handed with Brenna's father. She had things well in hand when he got there, and she had been winning her own battle. Once again, he should have held on to his temper.
Then, minutes later, he turned onto the road that led to his house, feeling as insecure as a teenager wanting to kiss a girl for the first time. He stared at the house as though he had never seen it before. He hadn't consciously planned to bring Brenna here, had focused only on going someplace where they could talk without being interrupted.
Now that he was here, he had no idea what to do next. He turned to Brenna, unsure of how she would feel about being here. He got out of the Jeep without looking at her and walked around to open the door for her.
His voice was gruff as he held out his hand. "I hope this is okay-coming here, I mean."
"It's fine." She placed her hand in his, and at her touch, he trembled.
She looked up at him suddenly, as if she knew just how unsure of himself he was. She gave him a slow smile. "I'm scared, too," she said.
"Ah, fair lady," he whispered. "C'mon."
Brenna followed Cole onto the porch, then into the kitchen. It was spotless except for a cup and plate in the sink. Cole didn't release her hand even when he opened the refrigerator and surveyed its meager contents.
"Do you want cereal or eggs?"
"I want to talk," she answered.
"Okay." He closed the refrigerator and led her through a pair of glass doors that separated the kitchen from the entryway. In the living room, he sat down on one end of a high-backed couch without releasing her hand. His eyes were full of so much hunger and regret, she nearly flinched.
Brenna sank down next to him. "I'm sorry. I should have-" she began.
"I'm sorry. I should have-" he said at the same moment.
Cole caught her face within his large hands. He gazed at her long seconds, watching her eyes dilate and grow smoky. He leaned forward and brushed his lips across hers in a caress of silent apology. Her lips trembled beneath his as she returned his chaste kiss.
Brenna held herself rigid, half frightened that she would wake up in a moment and discover this was yet another unfulfilled dream. But in her dreams, his lips weren't this soft. In her dreams, Cole's hands had never held her with such care. In her dreams, she didn't feel the erratic pounding of his heart beneath her hand.
Tears welled as she realized what she had nearly lost. She wrapped her arms around his neck, sighed and parted her lips, touching him with the tip of her tongue.
He returned her touch in kind, urging her closer, reveling in her taste that was the sweetest, the best he had ever known. The knowledge that he had nearly lost her made him tighten his arms around her until her breasts flattened into his chest. She pressed herself even closer, her fingers ice-cold against his neck, a marked contrast to the searing heat of her mouth, her renewed tears leaving his face as wet as her own.