True North

Chapter 25

Brian had half expected her to resist the gesture, and he was surprised by the willingness with which her body melted into his. She clung to him with ferocious desperation, her tears soaking the front of his shirt as she sobbed uncontrollably against his chest. It was plain to see that this was about much more than just some stupid gossip, but he didn't need to know the details: Whatever her burdens may be, the weight had obviously become too much to bear, and she was broken.

Broken, he echoed silently. Unfortunately, it was a feeling he knew far too well. He waited patiently, his fingertips absently tracing the length of her spine, until her weeping subsided to heavy shuddering breaths, which gradually tapered down to modest sniffles.

He sensed in her a sudden unease, felt the tension wash over her body as she realized what was happening between them. She discreetly wiped her nose on the back of her hand and stepped back from his embrace, purposely avoiding his eyes.

"Feel better?" he asked.

"Not really," she sniffed, too embarrassed to look at him.

He slid a finger under her chin and tilted her face up to his, cupping her cheek as he wiped away the last of her tears with his thumb. Her skin was impossibly soft against his calloused palm, and his hand lingered a bit longer than necessary as he looked into her eyes, all red-rimmed and puffy from crying. Whatever make-up she had been wearing was long gone, the tip of her nose glowed bright pink, and she looked...

Stunning, Brian realized, with no shortage of awe.

Beneath all of her pompous ideals and prickly armor, Stormy Daigle had a simple, raw sort of beauty that was actually rather enchanting. Who would've thought? She stared up at him with wide eyes, her lips parted into a perfect pink bow. His fingertips grazed lightly over the line of her jaw as he withdrew his hand, and a tiny jolt of electricity sparked beneath his skin. It lasted only a fraction of a second, and he could have convinced himself that he had imagined it, but the small gasp of air that escaped her lips told him that she felt it, too. She looked away first.

"I'm sorry," she said, venturing a weak smile but still avoiding his eyes. "I must have PMS or something."

"Don't do that," Brian said.

"Do what?"

"Degrade yourself that way," he answered. "It's okay to have feelings, you know, and you don't have to be sorry about it. Everybody has a bad day now and then."

"Day?" Stormy scoffed. "Try week. Month, year... lifetime. Take your pick."

"Well now you're just being dramatic," he kidded, offering her a sympathetic smile.

"Am I?" was her quick retort, her head snapping around to face him. "Am I being dramatic, or am I simply being truthful? I mean, look at me—I've accomplished nothing in the past ten years of my existence! I'm all alone, and I'm a mess! My whole frigging life is a mess!" She folded her arms across her middle and sank back against the counter in defeat.

"Your life is not a mess," he insisted patiently. "And you're not alone—I'm here, and there's Amy, and your father..."

"Amy hates me," she cut in.

"Amy doesn't hate you," he sighed, rolling his eyes.

Why is there always so much drama between women? he wondered.

"She's just...concerned," he continued. "She doesn't want to see you get hurt again. She'll come around, eventually."

Stormy shrugged. "Maybe. But you and Amy have your own lives to worry about. And as for my father, well, he's never really been 'here'. I swear, sometimes it's like we're complete strangers."