Page 51 of Freedom to Love

Chapter Thirteen

The car ride back from Charlottetown was heavy with silence. Brynn kept her eyes trained forward, afraid to look at Kat. The scent of her tantalizing cologne was all over her, and she fought closing her eyes and reliving what they’d just shared. But if she did, she’d lose it. Control, emotions, fear, all of it. She had to stay focused on Bea. Had to help her somehow. Would Kat help? Could she count on her? With a slap, she was again reminded of how different they were. Kat was a cop, her responsibility the law. She had a responsibility to protect Bea. Again, she wanted to look over, but she fought it and stared straight ahead, despite feeling Kat’s gaze skimming her every so often.

“Are you okay?” Kat finally asked.

Brynn’s skin came alive and heated with the sound of her voice. She recalled the feel of her strong shoulders and neck beneath her hands as she’d held on to her for dear life. The feel of those long, glorious fingers up inside her working magic. Brynn cleared her throat.

“I’m not sure.”

Kat drove on, and the thick wall of silence between them reformed. Brynn could barely breathe it was so stifling. Worry finally won out and she spoke.

“Is she hurt?”

Kat sighed, as if she didn’t want to tell her. “Murph said she was scuffed up.”

“Oh God.” Brynn rested her head on her hand as she leaned against the door. “Great.”

“I guess Wallace, the one who arrested her, I guess he got the worst of it.”

Brynn took in a sharp breath. “God damn it, Bea. They’ll hold that against her, won’t they?”

Kat blinked a few times quickly as if she couldn’t believe the question. “Yes.” She shook her head. “She resisted arrest and assaulted an officer. We don’t take that lightly.”

“What if she was high and not in her right mind?”

Kat flexed her jaw, and Brynn knew she sounded desperate, irrational. But she couldn’t help herself, she was grasping at straws. Bea couldn’t go to jail. It would be her ultimate failure as a guardian. Not to mention the danger her sister would be put in on a daily basis. She knew that threat firsthand and had spent quite a bit of time in isolation because of it. Isolation had saved her life and kept trouble from finding her.

“She won’t survive prison,” Brynn said. “She just won’t.” Her bravado, her mouth, her bad attitude, she’d be toast. Brynn stared out the windshield at the waning lights of mostly countryside. People were in their homes, watching television, reading a good book, oblivious to pending charges or jail or a prison sentence. She longed to be one of them. Just for a night. Just for a minute. Long enough to close her eyes and take a deep breath.

“Try not to worry,” Kat said. “Your sister’s tough. Hold on to that.”

Brynn wanted to argue but couldn’t. Kat was right. Bea was tough. She was hard as a rock and stubborn. She used to wonder if Bea ever felt fear. Or ever had feelings of concern for anyone else. She knew the answer was probably no, but she couldn’t imagine that when those feelings were so strong in herself. Her eyes drifted closed despite her racing heart. The strain of the night was catching up to her. Stress always caused a fight-or-flight reaction in her, and then she’d crash, completely drained.

She forced her eyes open and stared in a daze out the window. When Kat finally pulled into the station, she had to blink to regain reality. A tightness in her chest returned as they entered the building. She recalled the first night she’d been brought in by Kat herself. She’d been terrified yet determined and she’d refused to speak, not even to Kat who had tried to comfort her a little. For an arresting officer, she’d been polite, respectful. And Brynn soon had learned that none of them believed their story. They had known Bea was guilty, but Brynn wouldn’t own up to it. So they’d had no choice but to solely charge Brynn.

“I don’t like this place,” Brynn said. Kat waved at an officer working the front desk, and he buzzed a door that let them in. They wound through the station and Brynn wiped sweaty palms on her jeans.

Kat brought her to where she’d been questioned before and offered her a seat against the wall. Then she disappeared. Around her, uniformed officers came and went, and one even offered to get her a coffee. She declined and waited for what felt like hours. Then Kat appeared looking grim. “Would you like to see her?”

Brynn followed her into the tiny interrogation room she’d been in before. Bea was sitting at the table, eyes wide, chewing on the skin around her nails. She stood when they entered.

“Brynn.”

“Are you okay?” They settled back down at the table, and Bea’s eyes shifted to Kat who took the hint.

“You’ve got ten minutes, then she needs to go to holding,” Kat said softly.

Brynn nodded. She wanted to hold her hands but didn’t take the chance that they were allowed. And whether she wanted to admit it or not, Bea most likely wouldn’t want to. She’d never been an affectionate person. Not even when it was for comfort.

“Are you hurt?” She scanned her for bruises, but all she could see were superficial scrapes, mussed hair, and smeared eyeliner. Her sweatshirt was filthy and her nails were long and dirty. She needed a bath, a good scrub. And by the hollows in her cheeks, a good meal.

She shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“Where have you been?”

“Around.” She motioned toward the mirror.

Brynn looked back. “You should tell them everything, Bea. It could help you get a lighter—”

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