True North

Chapter 55

The porch swing swayed idly back and forth as Stormy stared out at her silver Honda, glistening in a patch of moonlight beside Brian's truck. Something about the whole scene—her vehicle beside his, his thigh touching hers, their hands woven together and resting on the seam in between—was comforting and thrilling, and yet equally terrifying. It was that last one that she was wrestling with when Brian interrupted her thoughts.

"What are you thinking right now?" he asked.

Stormy smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Nothing," she said. "Everything."

Brian accepted her answer with a nod, opting not to press her for more.

"It's late," he noted. "Your dad's going to wonder where you are..."

"No he won't," Stormy shook her head. "As long as I'm not driving his precious car, he doesn't care what I do."

"That's not true," Brian insisted. "He cares a lot about you."

"Yeah? Well, he's got a funny way of showing it," Stormy murmured, more to herself than to him. But then she relented. "I know he does, in his own way. But it's just... hard. And it wasn't always like that, you know—we actually used to get along pretty well, when my grandmother was still alive. I think she was like the buffer zone between us. But then she was gone, and... he just kind of pulled away. At least, that's how it seemed to me at the time."

"Maybe he did," Brian shrugged. "But that doesn't mean he doesn't care. He missed you, you know? After you left..."

"He said that?" Stormy asked, surprised.

"Not in so many words, but I could tell that he did," he said. "You must have missed him at least a little bit, didn't you?"

"Maybe," she allowed, laying her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

How does he do that? she wondered. How does he take something like that and just make it all seem... okay?

Stormy closed her eyes and thought back to similar discussions she had had with Gage. Instead of talking her down, he would egg her on, adding fuel to the fire until Stormy was convinced that the blame for everything wrong in her world rested squarely on her father's shoulders. And then, when she had worked herself up into a red-hot hatred, Gage would say that she was too tense, that she needed to 'destress', and the solution he offered was always the same—sex.

Besides, your dad hates my guts, Gage would say. What better way to stick it to him than that?

Stormy could see that pattern so clearly now, and it shamed her to admit that she had fallen for it every time. Had she really been that dense?

She lifted her head and looked out into the darkness that lay beyond the glow of the porch light and the moon. The humidity had disappeared from the air, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves of the oak tree in the front yard as a coyote howled from somewhere far off in the distance. The night air raised the flesh on her bare arms, and she inched closer into Brian's warmth. He glanced down at her with a slight smile, then squeezed her hand in his as he turned back to face the small part of the world that was spread before them. Stormy studied his profile, briefly wondering what he was thinking about before realizing that she somehow already knew. He was thinking about the cool nights and the recent lack of rain, and what effect that would have on his crops come harvest time; he was thinking about the handful of odd jobs he had lined up, and wondering how far back his accident would set him on those; he was thinking about his sister and her family, about his friends, about this town. And he was thinking about her. Not in a lewd how-soon-can-I-get-in-your-pants kind of way, but just... thinking. There were no head games with Brian, no selfish intentions, and no hidden agendas: With him, what you saw was what you got—end of story—and Stormy suddenly realized that being with him was the last thing in the world she should be afraid of!

Brian looked her way again and did a double take when he realized that she was staring at him. The slightest shadow of a beard traced over his square jawline, and his eyes were nearly black in the dim glow from the porch light. His dark hair, already growing out from being cut the week prior, was wavy from the dew that hung in the night air, and when he gave her that lop-sided smile that she liked so much, Stormy's heart slammed into the pit of her stomach.

And he's damn good-looking, too! Stormy silently added to her previous list of his attributes.

"I should go," she said hoarsely, unable to tear her gaze from his.

"Oh," Brian said, unable to hide his disappointment as he rose from the swing. "Okay, then."

Stormy eased up from the swing and started across the porch in a daze, her fingers still entwined with his as he trailed slightly behind her. When she reached the top step, she stopped suddenly, staring out at her car for a long moment before turning to face him. She looked up into his eyes, then down at their hands, and then back up again. Brian looked at her with a mixture of concern and bewilderment. Finally, Stormy's brain gave her mouth the words for what she already knew in her heart.

"I should go," she repeated, her voice only slightly above a whisper. "But I'm not going to..."