With fresh determination, she emerged from the bathroom in time to see Laurie stomp out and slam the door so hard the pictures rattled on the walls. Branson stood beside the bed, achingly handsome, his chest bare and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Yet he looked as forlorn as a lost puppy.
“Sorry about Laurie,” Steph said. “She can be a little protective where Ellie and I are concerned.”
Bran stiffened and turned his back. “I should go. Give you some privacy.”
“Kind of late for that,” she quipped. “I have on the same flannel PJs as last night, so you can face me. I don’t mind.”
Still facing away, he edged sideways, his cane sweeping the floor. “All the same, I need to get back.”
“As long as you’re here, maybe we should talk… you know… about Carina and stuff.”
“Maybe later.”
As he shuffled closer to the door, she moved to intercept him. “Bran, you’re making this more awkward than it already is.” Grasping his arm, she attempted to whip him around to face her.
He jerked away. “I told you I have to go. Get out of my way.”
He refused to look at her. Not that he could see, but he’d always shown his respect and attentiveness by facing her square on.
Leaning against the door, she refused to budge. “Why won’t you look at me? What’s wrong with you?”
“Why must you always be so obstinate?” He rotated toward her, and she saw his face, a mask of rage, with his hand across his eyes. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
“From me. From this.” He indicated his hidden eyes. “You don’t want to see it.”
“Bran.” Her soul cried for him. “I told you, already… I don’t care. I love your eyes. They’re blue and beautiful. I don’t even think about them being prosthetic.”
She tried to pull his hand down, but he pushed her away.
“Please… don’t.”
The agony in his voice tore at her. She had to tell him now. It was the only way he would believe her.
“Come sit with me for a minute. Let’s talk.” She tugged on his arm, like a gnat trying to move a boulder.
“We can talk tomorrow.”
“I need to sit. Feel weak, like I might pass out.” It was true. The room seemed to narrow, and her stomach complained about her continued upright position.
Bran’s disposition transformed in an instant. He dropped his cane and looped his arm around her, though he was too mulish to uncover his eyes. “You should be in bed. You take care of everyone else, but you don’t take care of yourself.”
“Not the bed. Help me get to the loveseat. It’s on the other side of—”
“I know where it is. All the suites are identical—it’s my design.”
She sagged against him, willing herself not to stumble as they walked around the bed to the small sofa. He sat down with her, and she closed her eyes until the room stopped spinning. “Okay. At least I don’t feel like I’m at an amusement park anymore.”
“Have you had anything to drink this morning?”
“A little water. But Laurie said she put some ginger ale in the fridge. I don’t suppose—”
“I’ll get it.” Bran was up in a flash, snagging his cane as he went.
Tempted to lie down, Steph resisted, lest she fall asleep and give Bran an excuse to leave. Now was her best chance to explain, before she lost her nerve. Drowsiness threatened to overcome her, and she pinched her arm to wake up. But fatigue won the battle, and she nodded off where she sat. She woke to the shake of gentle hands.
“Here’s your ginger ale.”
She took a few sips and handed the glass back. “Bran, I need to tell you something.”
He shook his head, still refusing to face her. Why was he being so paranoid about his eyes today?
She took a deep breath and blurted it out before she lost her nerve. “Bran, I love you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Hey!” She shot him an ineffectual look of outrage. “Don’t tell me what I feel. It took me a long time to get up the nerve to tell you.”
“That’s not love, you feel—it’s guilt. I was nice to you, and now you feel sorry for me.”
“For once, will you shut up and listen?”
“Fine.” He perched on the edge of the loveseat with his back toward her. It would’ve been off-putting, if she hadn’t been tempted to trace the lines of his muscles with her finger. “I’m listening,” he said.
She breathed a long, loud sigh, designed to let him know he was trying her patience. “Bran, I’ve been in love with you for most of the two years we’ve been together. You are, bar none, the most handsome man I’ve ever seen, and I’m well aware you’re way out of my league.”
“You have that backwards—”
