Page 13 of Provoking Bryan

“I need to make sure all the security feeds and alarms are working properly,” she said, turning away abruptly.

Bryan watched her retreat, the tension between them thick enough to choke on. Whatever was happening between them, it wasn’t over.

Not by a long shot.

Later that evening, Bryan sat at the edge of the safe house’s porch, the cool evening breeze carrying the salty tang of the ocean. Waves crashed against the cliffs below, their rhythm a stark contrast to the storm brewing inside him. Across the small outdoor table, Sara leaned against the railing, her arms crossed, her posture casual—at least to the untrained eye. But Bryan wasn’t untrained.

Her body was taut, her fingers twitching occasionally as though she wanted to reach for something—or stop herself from reaching for something.

“Relax,” he said, breaking the silence.

Sara’s eyes snapped to his, her expression sharp. “I am relaxed.”

Bryan arched a brow, the corner of his mouth lifting in a knowing smile. “That why you look ready to spring at the first sign of movement?”

She exhaled sharply, a sound halfway between a sigh and a growl, and turned her gaze back to the horizon. “Habit.”

“You always on edge?” he asked, his tone softening slightly.

She didn’t answer immediately, and he watched as her fingers flexed against the wood of the railing.

“Comes with the job,” she said finally.

Bryan stood, closing the distance between them with slow, deliberate steps. He stopped just behind her, his voice low. “Is it just the job?”

Sara stiffened, her breath hitching, but she didn’t turn around. He watched the faint rise and fall of her shoulders, the subtle tension that ran through her body.

“You’re doing it again,” she said, her voice quieter now.

“Doing what?”

“That thing where you think you can see right through me,” she replied, her tone laced with frustration but tinged with something else.

Bryan leaned in slightly, his voice dropping further. “Maybe I can.”

Sara turned then, her gaze locking with his. The air between them felt charged, the silence heavy with everything unspoken.

“You think you’ve got me figured out?” she asked, her voice steady but her eyes betraying her uncertainty.

“No,” Bryan admitted. “But I think you’re afraid to let anyone try.”

Her jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “And what would you do with what you find?”

He stepped closer, his gaze unwavering. “I don’t know. That would be up to you.”

The vulnerability in her eyes was fleeting, but it was there, and Bryan felt something inside him shift. He wanted to push, to see how far she would let him go, but he held back, sensing the fragility of the moment.

“Why are you here, Bryan?” she asked suddenly, her voice breaking the tension. “Why did you leave a successful career in Chicago to come to places like this?”

He leaned back slightly, crossing his arms. “Because the ER wasn’t enough anymore.”

Sara tilted her head, studying him. “Not enough how?”

He exhaled slowly, the weight of his memories pressing against his chest. “Every day, I’d patch up people who would end up right back where they started. Gang violence, poverty, addiction—it felt like I was fighting a losing battle. And then there was… an incident.”

Her brow furrowed, but she didn’t interrupt.

“A gang member came into the ER, gunshot wound. His buddies showed up, trying to finish the job. A cop went down, and I…” He paused, his throat tightening. “I shot the guy. Saved lives, sure, but that wasn’t my job. I wasn’t supposed to be the one pulling the trigger.”

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