He held out a hand. “Sit with me then?”
I walked past him toward the sitting room, and his hand fell to the small of my back. I could have sat in the reading chair, but I didn’t. Instead, I took the center of a small sofa where Brendan could settle beside me. His arm came around me, and I curled my legs up, letting him tuck my back against his side.
I shouldn’t have. I knew that. But Brendan cared about me, and it felt good to have someone there.
I stared at the wall across from us, a beautiful Wyeth painting centered over a narrow table. It was probably an original. And yet, I couldn’t bring myself to appreciate it. They had been attacking Council ever since Morgan was taken. We had thought it was in retaliation. We had thought they meant to rescue Morgan. But we were wrong ... because they were after me.
I closed my eyes, trying to force a vision to come. It didn’t work that way, but I wanted so badly to finally have this over with, to save my sister and myself. To save everyone. I just needed a clue. One small indicator of how, of what I was searching for in Emily, of what to do.
Brendan’s hand slid down my arm, and I became suddenly aware I’d sunk into him. My elbow rested on his leg, my back against his chest. His cheek brushed my hair, and I went rigid.
“Brianna,” he started, and I was on my feet, nowhere to go but the table across from us.
I could almost feel his presence behind me. I picked up a vase, examining the etched glass, and internally cringed. Nice, Brianna, run over to look at glass.
“Brianna,” he said again, and the hurt in his tone was clear. I had to say something. Do something.
I turned to face him. “I’m sorry.” He was too close. I sat the vase back on the table, stepped one leg behind me. Two would have been too much. Two would have injured him more. I looked into his eyes, so dark they were nearly black, and said, “I like you, Brendan. I do.” Before I could finish, before I could add, “but …” his phone rang.
He answered it. In the middle of our conversation.
After a brief exchange, he slid the cell phone back into his pocket. His gaze found me. “I’m sorry, Brianna, but I have to take care of something.” He glanced at his watch. “I hate to leave you alone, but Aern will be here shortly. There are two men at the door, and the alarms are always on.” He reached up to touch my shoulder. “We will talk soon.”
And then he smiled, clearly only taking the “I like you” from our conversation, before walking out the door.
I stared at it for several minutes, open as it was, before finally falling onto the couch and throwing an arm over my eyes.
I had bigger problems, I knew, so I started populating a list in my head for when Aern arrived. I would do everything I could to resolve our issue. I had a lot of work to do before I could figure out where to start.
“Brianna,” Aern said from somewhere beyond my feet.
I dropped the arm from my eyes, surprised to see him standing near the end of the couch. His face was tight, which I assumed was displeasure at Brendan leaving me alone.
I opened my mouth to speak, but my gaze fell on the other man in the room.
“This is Logan,” Aern explained. “He’s going to be staying with you until …” Somewhere in the back of my mind, Aern’s words were slowly filtering through, but I couldn’t register their meaning. I couldn’t even manage to form a thought. I couldn’t do anything except stare at the chiseled features of the man six feet away from me.
My chest tightened past the point of breathing, but my heart pounded against it nonetheless. It was him. I stared at the sandy blond hair, sun-kissed complexion, and deep whiskey eyes. I had seen them a hundred times; I would know them anywhere. It was him. Not in a vision, but here, in my room, in flesh and blood. Him.
“Brianna,” Aern said anxiously, and I tore my gaze, my very focus, away from its target to look at him.
Concern was plain on his face, and I abruptly returned to myself.
“Did you hear me?” he asked.
I shook my head, took a breath. Oh God, was my mouth still hanging open? I cleared my throat. “Sorry. What?”
His gaze narrowed, but he kept talking. “This is Logan. He’s going to stay with you.”
Logan. Logan. I finally had a name. My eyes were back on his now, I should be saying something.
Suddenly, Aern’s words sank in and I was standing. “He’s going to be watching me?”
“If that’s all right with you,” Aern explained. He glanced at the man, Logan, and shrugged his shoulder when he saw the one raised brow. Aern looked back at me. “He’s the only one I trust, Brianna.”
I nodded. “Yeah, no, it’s fine.” Fine? They were staring at me. I wanted to start all over. More than anything, I wanted another try. Or to hyperventilate. That would work, too.
“Have you been eating?” Aern asked.
The question threw me. And then my gaze betrayed me, flicking quickly toward the covered dishes on the side table.