Branded Sanctuary (37 page)

Because that wasn‟t who or what he was, was it?

When he spoke, his tone was rough, his lips moving over her skin. “Whatever you decide, Chloe, my life is better because of the short time we‟ve had together. And I fucking want you with all my heart. So if you change your mind, or even just want to talk some more about this, let me know. I‟m a phone call away.”
Chapter Eighteen

She hadn‟t been scheduled to work until after the carnival, so she had two days to stew at home. She thought about quitting. Brendan would have called Marguerite, told her that Chloe knew. Of course he would. That thought alone spiked the ugly ball of anger in her stomach. But what
was
Brendan and Marguerite‟s relationship now? She and Tyler were obviously bonded, and no matter how willing Tyler was to pleasure two women at once, Chloe didn‟t need any special intuition to know he wasn‟t the type to share Marguerite. Period. She pitied the guy who thought otherwise.

So where did that leave things? She knew she had no point of reference for the kind of relationship that Brendan and Marguerite might have. Maybe if she‟d given Brendan more of a chance to explain… But she didn‟t want it explained. She wasn‟t ready to be soothed or coaxed into accepting a rationalization from a guy who thought making her happy was more important than making it clear they had no future.

Yeah, she knew how that sounded, but she knew what she meant, damn it.

She didn‟t want to see Marguerite, but she wanted to go to work, double damn it.

She‟d slept poorly and ended up sitting on the back porch as predicted both nights, huddled in a blanket and fitfully dozing, listening to the nighttime insects, St. Frances purring on her lap. The house was scarier than the outdoors. Walls blocked a view of what was coming after you.

So she got dressed. She even put on jewelry and makeup, taking time with her hair in a way she hadn‟t in a while. When she came out on her front porch, she had a momentary hope, a despicable one, that Brendan would be there, miraculously showing up like he had after that first night. Of course he wasn‟t. He was respecting her wishes, the jerk. Getting into her car, she slammed the old Toyota‟s squeaky door and caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror.

The reflection looked about as inviting as a washed-out corpse dolled up by a mortician, curls fluffed around sunken eyes, a painted mouth that looked garish. Yeah, she‟d taken care with her appearance today, but it hadn‟t been because she‟d been feeling better. It was because she was viewing Marguerite as a competitor, wanting to show her she could be as attractive to Brendan, in one of those insanely irrational moves at which women excelled.

Yanking a wet towelette out of the glove compartment, she wiped it all off. Scraped her hands through her hair like a dog with fleas. Then she put the car in drive.

She didn‟t remember much of the trip into town, didn‟t turn on the radio. She could work on autopilot if she needed to do so. She‟d perfected that these past few months, hadn‟t she? She‟d get through, even though Tea Leaves had been her last sanctuary.

When she came into the tea room, it was still about a half hour before opening. Gen and Tyler were at the center island in the kitchen. Tyler was finishing up his coffee, wearing slacks and shirt, coat hung over the chair, suggesting he‟d brought Marguerite in to work and planned to do some business in Tampa today. They glanced up as she entered, and Gen‟s brow rose at her appearance, but she didn‟t say anything. Eggshells.

She wondered if they were as tired of walking around on them as she was.

“Yeah, I look like shit,” she said. “You can say it. I‟m not going to fucking break, you know.”

“I think you‟re already broken, sweetling,” Gen said quietly. “You want some tea this morning? There‟s a good chamomile blend that Marguerite—”

“Has been making me choke down regularly. Yeah. It‟s done a hell of a lot of good.”

“That‟s enough.”

Chloe snapped her attention to the end of the counter, where Tyler had leveled a look on her with those amber eyes. That look mashed the words flat on her tongue, an act of self-preservation. She‟d never been a child who feared her father, but her dad, like many loving fathers, had that point past which his child knew he would not be crossed.

Tyler had that look now, and she had a crazy feeling he wasn‟t above taking her behind the woodshed for a good strapping with his belt if he felt she needed it. In some ways, she wished she was back in that time of her life, because usually her dad had done it when she‟d been out of sorts about something. Somehow the punishment had defused it, refocused her. Helped the tears come.

Was that part of it for Brendan? The release of pain? Demons he couldn‟t exorcise?

Oh hell, she didn‟t want to go down that road.

When Tyler rose from his stool and stepped over to her, she wanted to draw back, but she couldn‟t. The gentleness of his touch on her face, at odds with the sternness of his voice, almost unhinged her. She had to quit her job. She‟d known it when she woke up this morning, recognized it more than once over the past couple days. She needed to leave it all behind. Maybe she‟d drive to the opposite coast, like she‟d done in college a couple times. Go hang out on the beaches, braid people‟s hair. Be homeless, live in a pretty box decorated with rainbow colors and scraps of beads and ribbons that advertised her trade. Be a part of nothing.

“Tell Marguerite—”

“You need to go talk to her,” Tyler said. “She‟s in her private garden, having tea.” Marguerite did that on rare occasions, following her own unique mixture of Japanese and English tea etiquettes that were as important to her as her yoga. It happened on occasions that usually coincided with Marguerite having a bad day herself. Great. So Brendan
had
told her. Though she expected it, it still hurt.
We’re all
sloppy seconds to his Mistress…

“I don‟t want to see her. You can just tell—”

“Did I give you the impression this was a choice?”

Gen became still as a mouse behind the counter, and Chloe wondered if her own eyes had become wide as saucers, like her co-worker‟s. That shift in tone was as subtle as a tiger going from lazy interest to keen fascination with a grumpy badger right outside the tiger‟s camouflage of marsh grass. Tyler‟s hand on her face remained just as gentle, though, which was the disturbing part.

“She doesn‟t want to see me.”

“You‟re wrong about that. You‟ve been on her mind for quite a while now. It‟s time to resolve it. Go tell her what‟s on
your
mind. Get it over with. Stop hiding behind your anger and your fear. It‟s not fooling anyone, not even yourself.”

“What about you?” She stared at his silk tie, knowing she couldn‟t meet that gaze for long. “Are you fooling yourself, about her and Brendan?” Gen‟s indrawn breath told her that being fired might be the least of her problems, but when there was nothing but silence, she looked up. Tyler was studying her with a lifted brow. “So he told you.”

“I found out. Then he told me.”

“Mmm. Chloe, the relationship Marguerite and I have isn‟t really your business, but I will tell you this. I‟m not concerned about Brendan and Marguerite‟s relationship. I know her heart. And you used to know it as well, better than you ever realized. She is protective of him, and of you.”

“Why does she need to be protective of him? He‟s a big strong guy.”

“Brendan was involved with someone who abused his submissive…generosity, for lack of a better word. I agree with you, that he‟s a grown man and can protect himself, but she doesn‟t want to see him hurt like that again.”

Tim‟s bitter face swam up in her mind. She didn‟t want to feel anger on Brendan‟s behalf at the thought of someone abusing him, but it came anyway, curling her hands.

“Why would Brendan let that happen? I mean, again—big strong guy.”

“Chloe, it‟s possible to strip someone to the bone without ever laying a finger on them. You just need to know what kind of weapon to use.” There were many layers of meaning under that, all of them there in Tyler‟s gaze, too painful for her to face. She looked away. Brendan had said he broke up with his last relationship a few months before their wedding. Which meant, if he had a Zone membership, and a…friendship, with Marguerite, then he and M were never an exclusive item. Of course, did knowing that make things better or worse?

“I‟m mad at her. It‟s not a good time to go talk to her.”

“Actually, I think that‟s the perfect time. Go.” He nodded to the side door. “And, if you‟re entertaining ideas of heading toward your car, instead of toward her garden, I‟d rethink that. I‟m a great deal faster than you are.”

She sighed, rubbed her face, resenting him, resenting all of it, not wanting to look at Gen and resent the look on her face, either. “I just can‟t deal with it.”

“Yes, you can.” He shepherded her toward the side door, held her arm an extra moment. “Face your fear, Chloe. You‟ll feel better when you do.”

“You‟re a bully, you know that?” But her tone was resigned, not accusing. A reluctant frisson of reassurance coursed through her at the faint amusement in those amber eyes.

“So I‟ve been told. Repeatedly. It doesn‟t help her get away with anything, any more than it‟s going to help you.”

* * * * *

Marguerite poured her a cup of tea, setting the pot back down on the cozy, and leaned back. She didn‟t speak right away, inhaling the aroma from her own cup. Chloe curved her hands around the smooth ceramic, needing and wanting the warmth, despite the protest in her stomach against putting anything in it. She was finding it hard to even look at Marguerite, the overwhelming beauty, the shadows and secrets in the pale blue eyes. Maybe because it would make her despise herself more, and face the fact she was as much hurt by Marguerite‟s silence as Brendan‟s sin of omission, no matter that he‟d told her up front that there were things he would tell her in time.

I love you. Why did you push me toward him, knowing…

“Chloe.” Marguerite spoke, but Chloe didn‟t lift her head. The woman sighed, put down her cup. Slim fingers and long silver white nails came into Chloe‟s field of vision, settling on the table cloth. “Do you have any idea how difficult it is for me to see you like this every day?”

“Sorry,” Chloe responded tersely. “But if you wanted him for yourself, I guess you should have kept him. Worked out some permanent threesome with you and Tyler, though I‟m sure that wouldn‟t have gone over too well.”

At the pregnant silence, she had to lift her head. As she‟d always known, it was difficult to surprise Marguerite. But there was no mistaking that she‟d done it now. The shock on Marguerite‟s face was entirely genuine. The brief spurt of vindictive satisfaction was swept away by mortification.

“He hasn‟t told you anything, has he?”

“Who, Tyler? Have you been confiding in Tyler?”

“No.” Chloe pushed away from the table, but couldn‟t get up. “I thought Brendan had…”

“Whatever Brendan feels for me, Chloe,” Marguerite said carefully, “I can guarantee he would never break a confidence with you, unless he felt you were in danger. Would you like to tell me what has upset you so much?” Chloe gazed at her hands miserably. The warmth from the tea cup was slipping out of them. “First, tell me what you meant, about it being hard to see me every day. Have I become such a lousy employee lately that you‟re thinking about firing me?”

“It has been hard for me to see you, knowing that it‟s my past that has hurt you this way.” Marguerite shifted. “Now I‟m suspecting I personally have hurt you as well. That makes seeing your misery all the more unbearable, though it gives me hope I might be able to fix my part of it.”

Marguerite‟s visibly strained expression took Chloe back, to the day Marguerite had bent over her broken body, knelt in blood and shattered glass to touch her, tell her help was on the way. “Chloe, you could become the most horrible employee Tea Leaves ever hired, and I wouldn‟t let you go, or let you give up on yourself. I would never stop being your friend, caring about what happens to you. Loving you.” The tautly strung barbed wire anger fell into a tangle inside Chloe. “M…” She reached out then, clumsily, almost toppling her tea cup, but she managed to grasp Marguerite‟s hand. Unless she initiated it, Marguerite often stiffened at sudden contact, but this time, she not only let Chloe curl her fingers over hers, she brought her other hand down on top of them, holding her in a strong, sure grip.

“M, about your dad… You have to know, I don‟t blame you for a minute of that.

Not a single second. From what I know…what I learned, of what he was to you, I think you are one of the strongest, most incredible people I know. Which is maybe why I hate myself so much now. Because I‟m so jealous and angry at what you and Brendan have.

And confused, about what that brand means, how that affects what he and I have. I don‟t know what to say or do toward you. I feel like slapping you or scratching your eyes out, because you‟re so bloody perfect, how could any man not love you? I don‟t usually let things like that bother me, because I know people are meant for each other or not, and I used to feel beautiful and desirable, but I‟ve felt so ugly and miserable lately…

“Then, on top of that, there‟s this whole part of his life that I can‟t feel, you know? I can learn it, I can learn the language, but there‟s no way I can
feel
it, you understand? So where does that leave us? And you and me?” She could barely talk now. “You and Gen, the tea room, you all were helping me hang onto what shred of sanity I have, and when I found out about the brand…”

“That was taken away as well. Oh Chloe.” Marguerite grasped her other hand, holding them both on the table between them, so tightly. “My family was broken apart, you understand? But I found one, made one, and I did that with your help. Yours and Gen‟s, Tyler‟s. Even Brendan. You are my family. I love you so very much, Chloe, and I don‟t think you realize how much I need to love you. Whatever else there is, we will work it out, I promise, but you must believe in that one thing, have hope in it. I need you back, Chloe. Your laughter and your joy.”