Page 6 of Braving the Storm
I think the only reason I survived getting here last night was a cocktail of anger, desperation, and exhaustion.
My tiny rental car has supposedly been fitted with winter tires, but even I know it’s not suited to a remote, mountainous location like this.
Driving in nose-to-tail traffic on highways and crawling through suburban rush hour does not equip you for gravel or ice or the constant terror that a wild creature might bound out onto the road in front of you at any moment.
At least for now, I’m safely hidden here amongst the pines andthe snow. I left without telling a soul where I was going, and fortunately for me, I’ve got a credit card in my name that none of them can trace. Maybe someone might eventually connect the contents of the will with my disappearance, but in all honesty, they only want me back for one reason.
And fuck them, I’m done being someone’s pet.
I’m done living a lie and being kept inside a glass cage.
They can go screw themselves and take their little power games and corporate empires and shove them.
No wonder my uncle cut ties and didn’t look back.
Perhaps there was a reason he chose never to reunite with my father after their rift. I know I certainly have no intention of ever speaking to my family again, if I can help it.
Stôrmand Lane is so completely unlike any of them. He’s different, in so many ways…
No.
No, Briar. You need to shut that shit down. There is nothing your silly little brain needs to start fixating on or obsessing over in this set of unusual circumstances.
What happened last night was clearly a misunderstanding of planetary proportions on his part, and what happened, what he did, was an accident. As soon as he recognized who I was, he nearly broke his neck to get out of there. While I have no idea why he turned up in the first place, the only explanation I came up with as I lay in bed wide awake at three a.m., compulsively overthinking everything, was that he maybe used this cabin for his hookups. Had he been expecting to find some other woman awaiting him in the dark?
God, I need to stop thinking about his hands being on me. How a split-second of him being rough and demanding turned my insides molten with desire.
It’s wrong. Immensely so.
Maybe I can find a cute cafe in this one-horse town and hope there is cellphone reception, or WiFi, and I’ll get myself on one ofthose dating apps. I’ve never used one, but now is absolutely the time when I need to learn.
I’m not heartbroken, I’m pissed off, and my pussy deserves some attention. It’s been a long, long time, with only my vibrator for company.
Which, of course, explains why I reacted the way I did last night. Nothing more.
I scrunch my fingers in the thick blanket. The room is barely big enough to fit a double bed, which is entirely unlike the California King I’m used to sprawling in all by myself. If two people were to sleep on this mattress, you’d practically be on top of each other.
Maybe that’s the point.
Casting my gaze around the gray morning haze, I take in the room. Simple, functional finishes. A tall dresser and a freestanding wardrobe both in wood. A mirror facing the end of the bed is the only thing approaching decoration. Total log cabin vibes.
Nothing here suggests who might have last used the place; it certainly wasn’t my father. Erik Lane’s taste was much more Malibu waterfront and Michelin Star restaurants where he could shake hands with self-important people. I doubt he ever set foot here, but for whatever reason, this property wound up in our family, and he left it to me. At least he left it solely under a trust listed in my name in the will. If that was the only good thing he did for me, it gave me a place to escape and hide out when my whole world imploded around my ears.
God. I can still see the sight of her neon purple satin underwear stuffed in his suit pocket burned into my retinas.
My skin crawls.
Turns out, once I knew what I was looking for, it only took me about ten minutes to uncover just how much of a cheating douchebag Antoine is. He also had the absolute audacity to make no attempt to hide what he was doing.
Did he want to get caught? Or did he just think I wasso pathetic I would never find out, or would be too much of a wet blanket to confront him if I did?
Did he just expect me to roll over and look the other way?
Ugh. I can’t believe I ended up being someone who was cheated on.
Even worse, is that I allowed myself to be in a relationship with a guy, who, now that I look at it, was always going to bethat asshole.
I’m so disappointed in myself.
