Frozen

Chapter 16)

Brianna

I waited for Barney to finish shedding his clothes and climb into bed with me.

"Well, that was fun," he said in a voice that I had never heard from him before. It wasn't soft or warm or gentle.

It was guarded.

"Yeah," I agreed in a careful tone.

He sighed and settled in so his arms were behind his head on the pillows, his body reclined but alert, and his eyes were trained steadily on the ceiling.

"We have something in common," he started.

I tensed because that beginning was not a good sign.

"When I was little, my mom got sick. Brain cancer. They caught it early enough that they would have been able to remove it, except it was literally hanging off her brain stem and it would've been nearly impossible to get it without permanent long term damage to her mind. She was really...well, she liked to say independent but really she was stubborn. She would rather have died than lived depending on someone else for the rest of her life. So, she refused the surgery and died a few months later."

"Baby," I murmured, thinking that was it.

"My dad," he continued, and I froze because the first part was bad but his tone said the second part was worse, "wasn't totally stable. Mentally, I mean, he already didn't have all his faculties. My mom thought his little...quirks, like getting so pissed when his favorite team lost that he would punch a hole into the dry wall, or calling up all of mom's ex boyfriend's every once in a while just to make sure they knew that she was his...well, she thought he was cute. She refused to see how...how dangerous he was because even when he got really, truly mad he never hurt her. So, she overlooked it when I dropped a plate and got smacked in the face because, I mean, it was my fault anyway. And she excused him when I got a B in math and went to school the next day with a broken nose. Because he was cute," he snarled the word and my heart broke for him. "But when she died," he went on in a deadly soft voice, "there was absolutely fucking nothing cute about my father. He blamed himself for not talking her into the surgery, and to get away from that constant guilt and anguish he felt over her death, he drank. He drank, he took pain meds, he drank some more, and he beat on me. The harder he hit me, the guiltier he felt. The guiltier he felt, the more he drank. The more he drank, the harder he hit. It was a vicious circle and I was the fucking epicenter."

He took a deep breath and let it out, his eyes coming to mine for the first time during that story. He scanned my face several times, seemingly finding comfort in whatever he saw, because he looked back up at the ceiling and continued.

"When I was fifteen, one of my teachers took me aside and told me that she had noticed my bruises and that she would help me. So, we went to the principal and I told them what had been going on. Then, he went to the police and told them what was going on. Then, the police brought me in, let me tell them my story, and they took pictures of my bruises for evidence. My dad was taken in, and they talked to neighbors who had heard crashes and screaming multiple times over the years and had just never said anything. After my father was put away for good, my mom's sister Carrie and her husband took me in. I lived with them until I turned eighteen and then I was planning to go to college to get a degree in business, but then I got a visit from a lawyer. My mom had a huge share in this nightclub her friend had started, and she had left them to me for when I turned eighteen. Well, I went to the friend fully intending to sell what was now my share but then I saw the place. I mean, it was a total wreck, but I saw...something in it. Potential, I guess. Nobody ever went so it was going out of business and the guy was scrambling. So, I used some of the money I had been saving up for college since I was eight to buy him out and used the rest to renovate the place. I named the place Insanity, which was ironic because it was what eventually brought some semblance of stability to my life. Turned out to be pretty damn successful."

"You started your nightclub at 18?" I asked incredulously.

"Well," he said, shrugging modestly, " I was 19 by the time it was up for business, but yeah."

I stared at him for a few seconds then carefully rolled over so that my cheek was on his chest, one hand on his abs, and the other arm wrapped around his waist.

"That's amazing, Barn," I said softly, tracing a pattern on his abs.

"What are you thinking, baby?" he asked, his tone no longer guarded. In fact, I heard some relief.

"I'm thinking," I said slowly and carefully, "that you did an amazing job at making a better future for yourself."

"You did, too," he said instantly.

I simply shrugged, because it was all I could do.

"Brianna," he said, tilting my face up with a finger under my chin, "there are two main differences between you and me. One, when I got out, I was thinking about me myself and I, while you were always putting Bentley first. The second was I had my aunt and uncle to back me up in whatever I wanted to do. You just had you."

Again, I shrugged. This time because I'm not very good good at taking compliments, but a small smile curved my mouth and Barney saw it and grinned.

"Are you ready to sleep, baby, or is there more you want to know about me?"

I twisted my lips and thought about it.

"Well, there will always be more I want to know about you, but let's sleep. We have lots of time for the rest."

I fell asleep in minutes.

Barney

Barney laid awake for a long time.

Time.

They had a lot of...time.

He had been telling Brianna since day one that he wanted her for more than one night, and he hadn't been lying. He did want that. With everything inside of him.

What he had neglected to mention, what he hadn't even let himself think about, was time.

Brianna was perfectly imperfect, and he loved every part of her.

What would happen when she learned that eventually he would have to leave?

Because time was not his friend.

He fucking hated time with everything inside of him.

Because time would eventually drive him insane.

Just like his father.