Timing (192 page)

actually did know my own body.

As I was changing back into my dirty clothes from the lovely

hospital robe, Brandon slipped into the room.

“Gonna shoot me now or something?” I asked the guy who had

nearly killed me.

“No,” he shook his head before crossing the room to me. “Why?”

“Oh, I dunno––the whole running me off the road thing… that

ringing any bells?”

“Stef, you gotta get it through your head; I ain’t the one that run

you off the road. If I hadn’t honked at you, I reckon you’d be dead right

about now.”

“You were drunk,” I said, my tone sharp. “You just thought there

was another truck, but it’s not like you meant to kill me. You were just

trying to make amends.”

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“I was––do wanna make amends, but there were two trucks. The

other guy drove away the second he saw you go over. I swear to God I–

–”

“Whatever,” I cut him off, too annoyed to listen to it anymore.

“Jesus, you’re pissed at me, huh?”

“Pissed was hours ago,” I assured him.

He offered me his hand. “I’m Brandon Holloway, but you can call

me Bran.”

I squinted at him until he dropped his hand.

“I’m so sorry about the fight, Stef. I was so mad at myself––

furious. I mean, I never act like that, but I’m at this wedding, and my

girl, she won’t even talk to me no more, and––”

“You’re frustrated about your girl and you took it out on Ben?”

Unrequited love, the one thing I had sympathy for. “Is that what you’re

telling me?”

He raked his hands through his hair. “Aww, man, I’m so sorry. I

was sorry the second you grabbed me. I was like, ‘oh fuck me, I should

just let this guy kick the shit outta me for being such a stupid prick’.”

I grunted.

“And then you go and make it worse by carrying my ass up the

side of that hill. What’re you, a fuckin’ saint?”

“Hardly.”

“Stefan, I am really so very sorry about the fight.”

“But not about trying to kill me?”

“That wasn’t me,” he insisted. “I swear to God, there was another

truck.”

I let out a deep breath. “Whatever. It’s over, don’t worry about

it.”

“Well I ain’t worried, but maybe you should be, huh? I mean,

somebody just tried to kill you.”

I shot him a look, as I was fairly certain that he was the only one

putting my life in peril. I noticed then that his eyes had darkened to a

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deep olive green as he stared at me. He was actually a very handsome

man with a slight cleft in his chin, sharply cut features and a warm

smile. His hair was light chestnut brown and streaked blond from the

sun.

“So you know I intend to take care of any charges that––”

“That’s not necessary.” I cut him off.

“Oh, I think it is,” he assured me as he stared into my eyes. “You

carried me up a hill just ’cause it was the right thing to do. You’re a

real nice guy, Stefan Joss. I hope you can give me another chance to get

to know you.”

I had an idea about how he could help me. “Can you drive me

back?”

In his truck another hour later, Brandon let out a deep, settling

breath. I had to drive because I didn’t trust the level of alcohol still in

his system. It was late, close to dusk, when I turned into the enormous

circular driveway of the sprawling ranch house. I thanked him for

letting me drive his truck and, over his objections, climbed a little

unsteadily out of the driver’s side door. What he was upset about were

his keys in my pocket when I went inside. He was walking home if he

was going at all. He was still assuring me that he was sober as I closed

the door behind me.

I needed food and lots of water, but I had to shower and change

before anyone saw me. I went through the foyer, the living room, and

up the stairs. In my room, it was cool, because the lights were off. I was

glad I had left the air conditioner on. Before I even thought about it, I

toed off my shoes and got on the bed, crawling up to my pillow before I

collapsed and lay down, closing my eyes, feeling like I was sinking into

the mattress.

“Are you hurt?”

I jerked awake, not even realizing that I’d fallen asleep.

“Stefan?”

Deep voice asking me questions. I lifted my head and looked over

my shoulder. Rand was standing at the end of the bed, arms crossed,

waiting for an answer.

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51

“I’m fine,” I sighed, putting my head back down. “Why wouldn’t

I be?”

“Oh, I dunno, a trip to the hospital tends to be tiring.”

I groaned as the light went on and a flood of people came through

the door. Charlotte and Ben and the rest of the wedding party filled my

room fast. I rolled over on my back and covered my face with the

pillow.

“I would smack you, but I don’t know where you’re hurt!”

Charlotte ranted at me. “Twice in one day you scare me––must be a

new goddamn record for you!”

I groaned into the pillow before it was snatched away.

“Stefan!”

She was really mad, and everyone stopped talking to look at her.

Her voice was shrill. It sounded strange, unhinged, and her breathing

was erratic, like she was going to hyperventilate.

“You are my best friend in the whole world, and I love you more

than practically anyone! You were there through the worst moment of

my entire life, and if anything ever happens to––”

I lifted up, grabbed her arm, and yanked her down beside me. She

wrapped tight around me, coiling, and even though it hurt a little, I

didn’t make a sound. “I didn’t want to ruin the wedding,” I told her,

kissing her forehead, nuzzling my face in her hair.

“The only way it gets ruined is if you’re not there beside me, you

stupid ass.”

I squeezed her, and the tears rolled out of her eyes.

The bed dipped as everyone sat down on it, Ben sitting up beside

the headboard, the bridesmaids on the other side, soothing Charlotte.

Rand was standing by the window, looking out at the darkening sky.

“You guys need to go,” I told them. “There are more festivities

planned for tonight, right?”

“Yeah, we’ll all meet downstairs in, like, half an hour,” Ben said

softly. “I need to talk to Stefan and Char real quick, but the rest of you

guys go on and get ready.”

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It was his wedding, so everyone did as he asked except for Rand.

But I knew, just like we all did, that Ben had never actually thought

Rand would listen to him. Rand didn’t listen to anyone. When the room

was finally clear, he asked his bride to look at him.

“Tell me about the worst thing that ever happened to you, Char.

I’m gonna be your husband, I should know.”

She clutched me tighter, buried her face in the side of my neck.

“Is it a deal breaker?” I asked him.

He squinted at me. “What’re you talking about?”

“If she doesn’t tell, is the wedding off?” I asked Ben, hoping it

wasn’t.

“What––no, of course not, I love––”

“Then not today,” I said softly, giving Charlotte a final squeeze

before I let her go and whispered for her to go to Ben.

She rose out of my arms and lunged at her fiancé. He grabbed her

tight, and when she locked her legs around his hips, he carried her out

of the room. I let out a deep breath, pulling my hair back from my face.

What a day.

“My cousin Bran says that he didn’t try to kill you,” Rand said,

moving from the window to stand beside the bed. “I think maybe if he

hadn’t been hyperventilating when he said that someone else ran you

off the road then maybe Charlotte wouldn’t have freaked so hard. I only

heard a little of it before I came up here. Tell me what happened.”

I looked up at him.

“Now.”

Why I responded to him, I had no idea, but I heard more than the

demand, I heard the underlying concern as well. So I told him

everything that happened, including carrying his cousin up out of the

ravine. I tossed him Bran’s keys. Rand was nodding when I was done.

“I always thought you were sort of fragile, but you’re not; you’re

strong,” he breathed out, and for some reason that revelation seemed to

please him. “So now tell me about this Cody guy.”

I was silent because I was both confused and unsure that I’d heard

him correctly.

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53

“Did you hear me?”

“I’m not sure, could you repeat the question?”

“Tell me about Cody.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Charlotte said a while back that you were dating some guy

named Cody but he didn’t come along with you so I’m askin’ you

what’s going on with him?”

I took a breath, squinting up at him. “Rand, why are you––”

“Did you break up?”

I nodded after a moment, completely confused by the entire

conversation.

“Why’d you break up?”

What were we, girlfriends now? “Rand, are you aware of how

weird this whole––”

“What was wrong with Cody?”

He seemed very intent about wanting to know.

I cleared my throat. “Well, it ended like a month ago.”

“Why?”

I squinted at him.

“Just tell me.”

“He was too serious.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“Rand, do you really expect me to––”

“Tell me what went on.”

He would wait all day for the answer, I could tell. It was such a

weird conversation—at least I thought it was. But I was a little out of it,

so maybe it was normal.

“Now.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

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“That’s not an answer.”

He scowled at me.

I gave up. What did I have to lose? “Okay, so he was ready to

settle down and buy a house and get a dog and all that shit. He was

even talking about kids, and––”

“And you don’t want any of that stuff.”

“No, I do,” I corrected him. “I just… he just––”

“Wasn’t the one,” he said softly.

“Yeah,” I sighed. “He wasn’t the one.”

It was hard for me to explain to people, so I usually just skipped

it, doing my patented disappearing act instead of having the big

blowout that signified the end of a relationship. More than anything I

wanted a home, wanted to belong to one man, but the men I always

ended up with wanted to smother me and entrench me in their lives. I

wanted to share my life with someone, not simply take on theirs. Most

men didn’t understand that, and so I ended up leaving. There was a man

out there confident enough that he could keep me around without trying

to change me. I just hadn’t found him yet.

“Stef.”

I looked up at Rand.

“You left because he wasn’t strong enough to handle your

bullshit, right?”

“What?”

He grunted.

“I’ll have you know that I’m a catch, no matter what you think.”

“Is that right?”

It was, but the way he was looking at me, daring me to say

something else, I couldn’t think of anything.

There was a long silence. “You should take a shower; you’re a

mess.”

“Excellent idea,” I said, getting up and walking by him toward the

bathroom.

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55

“I’ll be back,” he said, turning toward the door. “I’ll bring you

something to eat.”

“Thanks,” I said, closing the bathroom door behind me.

I stood under the water in the shower for a while thinking about

Rand. His questions, his demeanor—if he were gay, I would have

known how to read him. If he were gay, I would have told him to put

his hands on me. As it was, I was at a loss. But maybe he was like that

with everyone. Charlotte had always said that I was lucky that Rand

hated me because if he liked me, he would try to run my life. Maybe

since he liked me now, he had some nice gay friend he wanted to set

me up with and he was just trying to get a feel for me. He was asking

questions to find out if I was looking for a serious relationship or if I

just wanted to sleep around. And maybe that would have remotely

made sense if it was anyone else but Rand. I just knew that Charlotte’s

cowboy brother didn’t have any gay friends that he wanted to set me up

with. I laughed as I stood under the hot, steaming water.