Page 58 of Quiet Protector
“Don’t,” I sign back, stopping his unnecessary apology as quickly as I push off my feet.
“I failed, Melody. I did exactly what your father said I would do.”
I push down his hands so he can’t sign another stupid word before I throw my arms around his neck. His raging pulse vibrates my lips when I press them against the shell of his ear. “Youdidn’t fail.Ididn’t fail.Maddendid. This isn’t our fault, BJ. We’re not to blame foranythingthat happened.”
He’s set to argue, but I don’t give him a chance. After inching back, I pull him into the entryway, kick the door closed, guide him to the couch, then crawl onto his lap. While comforting him how I should have after Joey’s death, I tell him I’m sorry for how badly he’s hurting and that I wasn’t there for him when I should have been.
I can’t tell if he believes me or not, his emotions are a little hard for me to read, but I don’t give up. I’ll stay in his arms until either the sun breaks through the curtains or my words break through the wall Brandon has erected between us.
My father always said the only time you fail is when you stop trying.
I stopped trying years ago.
That needs to end, and it will end with Brandon.
* * *
As my eyes slowly flutter open, I discover the reason the softness of cashmere is gracing my skin. Someone laid a blanket over Brandon and me. It must have occurred sometime after three this morning because the last time I glanced at my watch, it was only a few minutes away.
I won’t lie. The six or so hours before exhaustion overcame me were some of the toughest in my life. I couldn’t free Brandon from the torment eating him alive without hurting him. It was a cruel and twisted time, but it was also healing.
Not just for Brandon but me as well.
Although I cried more than I talked, it took the same amount of words for Brandon to comfort me. The sound of his heart thudding against my ear. The warmth of his hand running down my back. Even the way his five o’clock shadow tickled the tip of my nose when fatigue slowly overtook me was oddly soothing.
For the first time in years, I’m waking up minus the tired headache I usually have. I’m shocked I got any sleep. Brandon and I are still in the weird, pretzel-like cuddle we fell asleep in. It’s not the most comfortable position to rest in, however, a soul doesn’t need pristine conditions to heal. It just needs love.
That’s probably why I’m minus a thumping skull.
My soul finally feels whole again.
Brandon lets out a grumble when I untangle myself from him, but mercifully, he remains asleep. He didn’t get as many hours as me. The dark shadows under his eyes are proof of this, not to mention I heard him murmur my name when I startled myself a little after four this morning.
After a stretch to loosen my tight muscles, I cover Brandon with the blanket draped over us before making my way to the kitchen at the back of the living room. Julian usually has a coffee waiting for me on the bedside table any time I wake, so today I’m not just missing the groggy smile he normally delivers it with, I’m in desperate need of a sharp shot of caffeine.
My sluggish steps slow even more when I notice a suitcase sitting neatly outside the master suite doors. It’s Julian’s suitcase, and mine aren’t stacked next to them like they generally are.
“Julian…” I murmur before pushing open the partially open door of his suite. The healing my heart did overnight is shoved back a step when his eyes float up from his hands to me. He’s dressed in a powerhouse-ready suit, and he’s clean-shaven, but his usually alluring gaze is lost and broken. “Are you going somewhere?”
The daftness of my question can be easily excused. He’s like Brandon. He only shaves when required.
A lump lodges in my throat when I realize what Julian was eyeballing when I entered. He has our matching wedding bands out of their boxes. He brought them with us so he could have them engraved by a jeweler down the street from our hotel. With everything that happened yesterday, we’ve yet to get them done.
After placing the rings onto a handwritten letter, Julian stands to his feet. He sways slightly like he’s still drunk, even though I’m confident he isn’t. His eyes are too alert to belong to a drunken man. “I’m going home.”
“Okay,” I push out, confused as to why he’s ending our trip early. We still have another two nights booked and paid for. “Give me a few minutes to get my things in order, then I’ll request for Fetu to bring the car around.”
I stop heading for the walk-in closet when he murmurs, “I’m not returning to New York. I’m going home. Back to California.”
“Oh… why?” My daftness is justified. Excluding last night, we’ve had an almost perfect relationship. “If it was what I said last night—”
“It wasn’t anything you said.” As he struggles not to respond to the tears welling in my eyes, he rakes his fingers through his ginger locks. He hates when I cry. “Do you remember when we watchedThe Notebook?”
Salty blobs almost fall from my eyes when I nod. “Much to your dislike.” That was the movie we watched when we went to the cinema as friends for the first time.
Julian smiles. It isn’t his full smile, but I’ll still take it. “At the end of the movie, you said something that didn’t resonate with me until last night. You said it wouldn’t have mattered who Allie ended up with because no matter what, Noah would always be her number one.” He licks his dry lips before continuing. “It didn’t make any sense to me. If Allie and Noah weren’t together, how could he possibly still be her number one.” His breathless chuckle is more pained than in glee. “Then, I saw you with Brandon, and I knew exactly what you meant. When you were panicked, I couldn’t settle you. Brandon could. When you run in fear, you run away from me as well. When Brandon ran, you wanted to run into the fire with him.”
Finally clueing in on where he’s taking our conversation, I say, “That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Julian. I do. I love you.”
