Page 6 of Bryce

Clad in nothing but a towel.

“Hello.” What a daft thing to say. How unoriginal. Hello. I wondered if I ought to thank her for the times she’d warmed my bed back in St. Lucia while I was at it. I could truly make a fool of myself.

She blinked. Her eyes were the same green as they’d been in my dreams. Her full mouth turned downward at the corners.

“Hello. I have fresh clothing to hold you until yours are washed.” In her arms were a folded shirt, a pair of sweatpants, even socks.

“Thank you. Very thoughtful.” I reached for them and pretended not to notice that she took a step back.

“I—I had nothing to do with it. I only brought them because Dallas asked me to.”

“Oh, Dallas is here?”

“Aye.” She offered nothing more. Offering even that much appeared to pain her. Those startlingly green eyes of hers moved up and down the hall, to the floor, to the wall. Avoiding me.

“I suppose I ought to dress, then.” I pointed to the pile of clothing. “If you believe I deserve that.”

She looked down. “Right. Of course.” After all but thrusting them at me, she spun on her heel and hurried down the hall as if running from a fire.

Only it wasn’t a fire that made her put on such speed. It was me. I was the reason she felt she had to run. I was the one who’d done something to make her flee.

She’d run to me at one time, not away from me.

Was it shame? Anger? Did I disappoint her somehow? I thought I’d said it all in the letter. I thought I’d been clear.

She knew it had to end, didn’t she? There was no continuing whatever was between us, not with me running about the world at Mary’s behest. Not with Isla’s clan loyalty, the fact that she could not build a life for herself in the outside world.

We had no future. She wasn’t a fool.

It wasn’t as if I liked it.

But I’d told her everything. I’d told her how I felt, what she meant to me.

Wasn’t that enough?

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