Page 47 of Beneath the Surface

But even as she closed the bedroom door, the warmth lingered, a reminder of everything they had shared—and everything that still remained unspoken.

Later that night,after cleaning up the remnants of their meal, Brad double-checked the security system, ensuring that every door and window was locked, and the cameras were functioning properly. He stood for a moment, watching the live feed on his phone, scanning the perimeter of the house for anything unusual. The danger wasn’t over, but with Isobel close, under his protection, he felt more in control.

Satisfied everything was secure, he made his way to his bedroom. It was a simple room, similar to the guest room butlarger, with a king-sized bed and dark wood furniture. The faint scent of the fresh sheets filled the air as he kicked off his shoes and lay down, his body sinking into the mattress.

He closed his eyes, but his mind was still racing, thinking of Isobel just down the hall, of the threat that lingered, and of what the next days might bring.

With a deep breath, he forced himself to relax, hoping that tonight would bring a little bit of peace for both of them.

Isobel snuggledunder the silky covers, feeling a bit more like herself for the first time in days. The hydrocortisone cream had soothed the stings on the parts of her body she could reach. She felt weird asking Brad to put some on the stings on her back. Tomorrow, she’d ask one of her sisters to stop by and apply more cream to the places she couldn’t reach. She was also able to lower the dosage of the antihistamines that made her sleepy. Unfortunately, that had cleared her mind.

She glanced around the room, noting how cozy it felt with her belongings unpacked and neatly arranged. Olivia’s touch was evident in the thoughtful items packed: in addition to some of her favorite outfits and pajamas were the novel she was reading, her hair products, makeup, toothbrush, and feminine hygiene products.

She settled into bed with her novel, reading for a while until her eyelids grew heavy. She drifted off to sleep, feeling a sense of peace she hadn’t felt in days.

The peace didn’t last long. Isobel tossed and turned, trapped in the throes of a nightmare. Her mind replayed the terror ofthe bee attack, the suffocating feeling of being unable to breathe. She woke up with a scream, drenched in sweat.

Brad ran to her room, throwing open her bedroom door, panting. "Belle, what's wrong?"

Isobel, mortified by the vivid nightmare, couldn't find the words. Brad quickly moved to her side, wrapping his arms around her, trying to comfort her. "Shh, it’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe."

Isobel’s sobs quieted as Brad held her close. She pressed her lips to his in a soft kiss he clearly meant for her cheek. Her lips parted, but before she could say anything, he leaned in. His kiss was slow, deliberate, a question and an answer all at once. She melted into it, her hands instinctively gripping his arms, the strength beneath his skin grounding her. The kiss wasn’t hurried or desperate—it was filled with everything unsaid, every moment they had danced around this.

Brad pulled back abruptly, his breathing ragged. "Belle, we shouldn’t...”

Isobel sat on the edge of her bed, her chest still heaving from the nightmare that had woken her. She looked up at Brad, who moved to stand near the door, his face shadowed with worry. His presence was grounding, yet her emotions still churned wildly. Her wide hazel eyes locked onto his, and the words spilled out before she could stop them.

"Brad… please," she whispered, her voice trembling. “The nightmare—it wasn’t just about what happened. It was about everything. My God, the only relationships I’ve had were horrible. I didn’t realize until tonight how much I’ve been running from it all.”

Brad moved closer, his brows knitting as he took in her words. “Belle, you don’t have to explain right now,” he said, his tone careful, reassuring. “You’ve been through hell?—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. Her hands clenched the blanket draped over her lap. “You don’t understand. When I felt myself dying—God, Brad, I was so afraid. But one of my last thoughts was that I never told you how I feel.”

He stiffened at her words. His hand rubbed at a spot on his chest as though to ease the pressure. His eyes fixed on hers.

“It started as a crush,” she admitted, her voice tinged with a nervous edge. “When you used to come over to see Liv. But then… then it wasn’t just that anymore. I started having real feelings for you.”

“Belle,” he rasped, “you don’t have to?—”

“I need to,” she cut him off again, her eyes glistening. “Because I’ve spent so long pretending I don’t feel this way. I’m tired of pretending.”

He closed and opened his eyes but didn’t move, didn’t speak. His gaze softened, searching hers for something—permission maybe, or understanding. He saw the mixture of fear and hope swirling in her eyes.

As the air between them seemed to shift, Isobel’s eyes dropped for a brief moment, skimming over his bare chest where his hand still rested. Heat flared between them, a spark that had always been there but now felt undeniable.

This wasn’t just attraction. It wasn’t just about the warmth pooling between them or the way their breaths seemed to sync. It was the years of unspoken connection, the trust they had built, and the feelings that had grown quietly in the spaces between their lives.

Brad stepped closer, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his fingers brushing her cheek, and her breath caught. “Belle,” he murmured, his voice deep and steady. “You don’t have to be afraid. Not with me.”

He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his hand lingering against her temple. “You’re not dying, Belle,” he said softly. “Not on my watch. And you’ll never have to run from this again.”

Tears welled in her eyes, but this time they weren’t from fear. She nodded, her voice catching as she whispered, “I don’t want to.”

Brad moved to the window,his back to Isobel, wrestling with the words he knew he had to say. He’d already given himself a dozen excuses—about the case, the stress, his responsibilities—but none of them were the real reason he’d pulled back. She deserved the truth, and he was finally ready to give it to her.

He turned to face her, his eyes softening as they locked onto hers. “Belle, you need time to think about what you really want. Aboutus.”

Isobel shifted in her seat, confusion creasing her brow. “Think about what?”

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