Exposed by Kristen Callihan

Chapter Nineteen

Rye

I’m running awayfrom an argument with Brenna. I promised myself I wouldn’t do that anymore. But I can’t shake the weight of disappointment and frustration crawling down my throat. I can’t joke right now. I can’t be the guy who pretends nothing matters.

Brenna’s heels click in that familiar pattern of hers. I hear that clickety-click in my sleep some nights and wake up smiling. Damn it, why did it have to be her? Out of all the women in the world, the one that thinks I’m dirt is the one I want.

“Rye…” She sounds tentative, remorseful. And even though I want to ignore her, I can’t. Never could.

Letting out a breath, I slow my stride so she can catch up. But I can’t look at her. Not yet.

We’ve reached the American wing, another light-filled, glass-covered courtyard. There’s a cafe at the far end by the windows, and the scent of stale coffee and warm bread fills the air. I hang a left and step into the relative quiet of a neoclassical interiors gallery.

Brenna follows, and when I stop to stare unseeing at an exhibit, she stands just behind me like she’s afraid to face me. The idea sends a wave of exhaustion through my body.

“All this time,” I croak, my throat too thick. “You hated me for something that I didn’t do.”

The air stirs with her sigh. My skin twitches when her hand settles on the back of my arm. “Rye, I’m sorry.” With another sigh, she rests her forehead between my shoulder blades. When she slides her arms around my waist, I close my eyes tight.

“It’s okay,” I get out. “I’d have come to that conclusion if I’d seen the same.”

She holds me a bit tighter, her hand spreading wide over my abs. “You would have confronted the person and demanded an explanation.”

“I get why you didn’t.”

Brenna hums in doubt, her fingers pressing into me like she’s afraid I’ll move away. “I let my feelings for you color my judgment. You weren’t exactly my favorite person back then.”

“I know.”

The movement of her lips against my shirt tickles, and yet it feels so good, I want to lean into her. I hold steady as she talks. “It was so petty, that dislike. You rejected me, and I acted like a spoiled brat, hating you when it was your prerogative not to want me that way.”

Surprise whips through me, locking all my muscles tight. I knew that was why she stopped liking me, but never in all these years did I think she’d ever admit to it or be sorry.

Throat thick, I turn in the circle of her arms, sliding my own around her. She stares up at me, her expression almost blank, her slim body so stiff, I know she’s bracing herself.

“I wanted you,” I say. “Jesus, Bren. I wanted you so badly, it scared the hell out of me.”

A wrinkle forms between the auburn wings of her brows. “You don’t have to say—”

“I sought you out after every gig, every practice. Why do you think I did that? Because I was attracted to you. I liked you, Berry.” My thumb strokes a circle over the small of her back. “I knew you liked me too. But Killian had made it clear he’d kill any guy who got too close, and you were so young…”

“You were young too,” she points out, high color coming over her face. “And Killian should have fucked off. He had no right to go all Victorian protector on me.”

A small laugh tickles my throat. “No, he didn’t. But you’re right. We were both young. It would have gone pear-shaped and messed with the band’s dynamic. Back then, I wasn’t willing to risk that. So I acted like an asshole to make you dislike me. I handled it badly.”

“We both did.” All the stiffness drains out of her, and she rests her head on my shoulder. But I don’t make the mistake of thinking she’s okay. A fine tremor runs through her body. I slide my hand up her back and wrap the silky length of her ponytail in my fist, knowing she likes to be held that way. It works, and she melts into me. “I’m sorry I hurt you, Ryland.”

Sometimes the guys will say my full name, mostly when they’re giving me shit; it’s what we do. But when Brenna says Ryland, it feels like a secret between us, like she’s pulled back my armor and sees the man beneath all the bullshit. I have no defense against it.

Dipping my head, I press my lips to the crown of her head and breathe her in. “I’m ashamed of that night,” I confess heedlessly. “It was my fault.”

Her voice is muffled against my chest. “Why would you think that?”

“I gave her the wrong idea. We were talking about nothing in particular, then I said something about how cool it was that she showed up at my birthday party, that I was honored, you know?”

Brenna stays silent, and I swallow audibly. “She laughed it off and said it was nice to be around people who appreciated her, that her husband didn’t have time for her.”

A sharp sound escapes Brenna, and she stiffens. I’m guessing she didn’t know that about her aunt and uncle’s relationship. I stroke her back, an automatic gesture because I don’t like upsetting her. But my words keep flowing out of me. I can’t seem to hold them back. “I was all sloppy drunk, but I remember leaning into her space and saying that she was the most beautiful woman in the world and any man who didn’t have time for her was an idiot.”

Brenna huffs out a shaky laugh. “You always were a smooth talker.”

I don’t smile. The past sits too heavily on my shoulders. “I wanted to make her feel better. And I’m not going to lie, Bren. I honestly couldn’t understand how your uncle could ignore this beautiful, intelligent woman who loved him.”

“There’s nothing wrong with any of that, Rye.”

“Yeah, well, it was a mistake, because she got a look in her eye, and it hit me that I was inches away from Killian’s mom. Your aunt. And…shit. My hand had ended up on her thigh. I didn’t even remember doing it. But I’d said those words, touched her…I wasn’t thinking. And then suddenly, she was kissing me.”

With that, Brenna pulls away. I let her go because I’m not about to hold her against her will. A frown mars the oval of her face.

“It took me too long to react,” I blurt out. “My mind went blank. And then I was so fucking horrified. I pushed away, mumbled some excuse, and got the hell out of there.” My hand shakes as I run it through my hair and clutch the back of my tight neck. “I threw up all night. I couldn’t look Killian in the eye for months.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” Brenna says, quiet now, pensive.

“I should have told him. But I just…couldn’t.”

The wrinkle between her brows grows, and she turns her head to stare off into the distance. “Some things are better left unsaid.”

“Are they? Because that particular act drove a wedge between you and me for nearly a decade.”

Her lashes sweep down over her eyes for a brief moment before she faces me, all hard determination. “That’s different.”

“Maybe. Maybe not.”

“It is, because I saw it happen. Killian doesn’t know and doesn’t need to know. It will only hurt him now.”

Tightness pulls at my shoulders, and I roll them. “I buried that night deep within me, because I couldn’t stand it—”

“Rye—”

“You don’t understand. My dad is a cheater.”

At the sound of her indrawn breath, I give her a wry, tired look. “Always was. It hurts my mom and pisses me off. It ruined our family.”

“I’m sorry,” she says, and I know it’s out of sympathy. Surprisingly, the sentiment warms me.

“I am too.” I shrug. “Mainly, I’m sorry my mom can’t get out of the cycle of forgiving him.”

“I wouldn’t,” she blurts out then pinks. “Forgive someone for cheating on me, I mean.”

“No,” I agree with a weak smile. “I suspect they’d search for the body and never find it.”

Brenna huffs in amusement, but her lips pinch. “You haven’t forgiven him either.”

Not a question.

“I’m trying. He’s a good dad—aside from that. He’s always been supportive of me. I think that bothers me most of all, how he can be so good in one aspect of his life and so crap in another.”

“I guess we’re all flawed in some way or other.”

“I don’t want to be like him,” I spit out.

Brenna considers me for a long moment. “I don’t want to be like my parents either.”

“I can’t be…” Damn my tight shoulders and stiff-ass neck. “I like sex, women, having fun…” This is coming out well. Fuck. I clear my throat. “But I’d never be a cheater. Never.”

I want her to understand I wouldn’t do that to her. Maybe she’s been afraid to trust me in that way. After all, she witnessed my worst moment and came to the worst conclusion.

Pride shaken, I fist my hands and turn away.

“I believe you,” she says, softer now. “I should have believed it from the start. But I didn’t know you like I do now. You have a sense of honor and loyalty that shines bright, Ryland. I admire it. So much.”

Shocked, I wrench around, my mouth falling open.

But she isn’t looking my way. With a sigh, she shakes her head ruefully. “I’m guessing we’ll simply make our own types of mistakes.”

“I don’t want us to be a mistake, Bren.”

It’s her turn to be shocked. She blinks, her pretty mouth falling open. But it’s only for a second, then she visibly collects herself, and I’m faced with the woman who smoothly runs our public relations. “We won’t. We’ll be careful.”

Careful.Like I’m a campaign to be managed. Disappointment is a kick to the gut. But she’s only playing by the rules we both set down. That’s the way Brenna is. She makes a plan and sticks to it. If I want more, I have to spell it out, make demands. Right now, I’m too drained to do anything other than take her hand and give her a reassuring smile, because I know she’s drained as well. We’ve exposed too much of ourselves too quickly.

“Come on. There’s a fashion exhibit on high couture that has your name all over it.”

“I don’t know if I like how much you get me.”

Get used to it, sweetheart. I intend to get a lot more.