that didn’t change everything.
He’d done the one thing he’s sworn he would never do.
I love you, Tyler.
Sweat broke out on his forehead, and he eased away from her, drenched in panic and regret. He had no doubt that those words had been heartfelt and genuine. He’d always known that about her, which was why he’d been careful to avoid this situation. He couldn’t be what she wanted.
So what was he doing here?
The moment she’d said those words to him in the den, he should have walked out of the room.
He should have explained that he wasn’t capable of giving her what she wanted.
Anything.
The only thing he shouldn’t have done was take her to bed.
Had she noticed that he hadn’t said it back?
What happened now?
Where did they go from here, and what would happen to the friendship they’d shared their whole lives?
This was his fault. He’d sat with her and spilled his guts, shared parts of himself he’d never shared with anyone before, and she’d done the same. For once in her life she’d spoken the truth, and that truth had snapped the strained leash on his self-control.
Unable to think clearly with her lying next to him, he slid out of bed and walked silently to the bathroom. Through the windows he could see the snow still falling, and it lay thick and deep over the trees and the forest trail. It showed all the signs of being a perfect powder day. Normally, he would have been hammering on her door, tempting her out before the rest of the world awoke but not this time.
Tyler ran his hand over his face.
He was afraid to wake her. Afraid to face what he’d done to their relationship.
He swore under his breath and stared at his reflection in the mirror. “You’re an idiot.”
“Why are you an idiot?”
He met Brenna’s eyes in the mirror and saw her expression change from soft to wary.
She’d tugged on his blue shirt, and he found it endearing that she’d be shy with him, that she felt the need to cover herself after the intimacies they’d shared the night before. But it didn’t surprise him, because he knew her and knew exactly how she’d react in any situation.
“Brenna.” What was he supposed to say? This was new territory for him. He couldn’t walk away. He couldn’t pretend it hadn’t happened.
He had to deal with it. Usually, he had no trouble speaking his mind, but right now, he didn’t know his mind.
He turned, wishing he had Sean’s smooth way with words or Jackson’s natural diplomacy.
“You regret it, don’t you?” Her voice was flat, her arms wrapped around herself, giving the comfort he should have been offering. “You’re sorry, and you wish you could turn the clock back.”
Did he wish that?
He didn’t know, but the delay in answering condemned him.
There was a flash of pain in her eyes, and then she turned away. Tyler ran his hand over the back of his neck, out of his depth.
“Brenna, sweetheart, wait—”
“For what? For you to find a tactful way to tell me you made a mistake? Forget it.” She grabbed her clothes from the floor and pulled them on, her movements ragged and uneven, her dark hair falling forward in a messy tumble. It didn’t help to know he was the one responsible for that glorious disarray. His fingers, his mouth, the movement of her body under his.
He wanted to grab her, and he wanted to let her go.
He wanted to strip off that blue shirt and feel her naked under him again and at the same time, he didn’t want to touch her.
Never in his life had he felt this conflicted. Until now, his liaisons with women had been short and brutally uncomplicated.
“Look, last night we talked about a lot of stuff. We were both saying things we’d never said before.” He raked his fingers through his hair, feeling clumsy. “I value our friendship. I don’t want to lose that.” He saw her pause in the doorway. Saw her knuckles whiten as she gripped the door handle so tightly, it was a wonder she didn’t wrench it from the wood. “We have a great relationship, and I don’t want that to change.”
Slowly, she released the door handle. Breathed.
“Everything has already changed.”
And she walked out of the room without a backward glance.
WHY HAD SHE told him how she felt?
She wanted to rewind the clock and take it all back.
Brenna stumbled through the snow feeling the cold and the snow seep through her clothing. Somehow she reached Elizabeth’s house and as she opened the door, she heard female laughter coming from the kitchen.
“So I said to him, ‘you have to be kidding. There is no way I can get you an interview until—’” Kayla broke off as she saw Brenna. “Hi! You didn’t answer my text so I wasn’t sure if you were coming. I thought—crap, what’s wrong?” She was on her feet in a moment and so was Elizabeth while Élise stood, her hand locked around the pan as she stared at Brenna’s face.
“Merde, what happened?”
“Oh, your hands are freezing! Why aren’t you wearing a coat! And gloves?” Elizabeth took her hands and rubbed them between her own. “There is more than a foot of new snow out there, and the paths aren’t even cleared yet. Look at you—you’re covered in it.” She brushed it off gently and steered Brenna to a chair at the table. “Are you ill? Élise will make tea. It’s gentler on the stomach than coffee.”
Élise gave her a look. “I do not know how to make good tea! I am not British. Kayla can make it.” But she looked worried as she watched Brenna sit down. “Merde, you are pâle comme un fantôme.”
“She’s what?” Kayla looked at her, confused, and Élise shrugged.
“Pale as a ghost.”
“Then say ‘pale as a ghost’!” Kayla spread her hands in exasperation. “I can’t translate French this early in the morning.”
“You can’t translate French at any time of the day. You have no idea how exhausting it is to always be in someone else’s language. I can never properly be me.”
Brenna sat for a moment, numb with cold and misery, comforted by the normality of the interaction. These were her friends. And they cared. “I don’t want tea, thanks. Is Jess here?”
“Snow day. She went across to check on Alice and Walter after all the snow we had in the night. Why didn’t you wear a coat, dear? That’s not like you.” Elizabeth brushed
