Page 59 of White Raven
A small part of him wished he could get that off of his chest. But he didn’t know her. Didn’t know if he could trust her with that information. And every other time he’d slipped where Sarah was concerned was a complete and utter disaster. Deciding against trying to explain it, Brent started unbuttoning his shirt.
This is a terrible idea…
Her eyes went wide when he opened it up and tugged the tail out of his waistline, and she sat her beer down. “Oh, my God.” She leaned over his waist, barely touching the angry scar that should have still been a draining wound. “This is…this is unbelievable. How in the world?” Her head raised up and theypractically shared breath with how close their faces were. Brent’s chest sputtered, and he couldn’t help but eye her mouth, both of them breathing quicker, and probably having the same trouble with their racing thoughts.
She moved first. Before he had time to argue that this was the worst thing they could possibly be doing, her mouth was on his. It had been too long since the last time he’d felt this. Even longer since he’d felt anything else, and anybody would have had the same reaction in this state of mind…wouldn’t they? He kissed her back, allowing her to lean him against the back of the couch. When she climbed into his lap, all he could think aboutwasthe last time he’d felt like this. How bad he’d been wanting it ever since…with someone else. Someone that wasn’t the woman that started grinding herself against him. He pulled back, breaking their kiss.
“Doc—Melissa…I—we can’t do this.”
She panted, gripping his shoulders, “I know you want it, Brent. You kissed me back.” He did want it…just not from her. She lowered her mouth to his again, not allowing time for a rebuttal, and a scuffing sound sounded from the kitchen.
“Wow…”
That voice…no.
Brent jerked away, sliding Dr. Ambrose off his lap, and springing to a stand—Wren’s completely irate figure bracing against the kitchen counter.
“Wren? How did you—”
“Your fucking door was wide open. Which I’m now going right back out of.” She turned on her heel and started out the door. Brent tried his best to button his shirt as he raced after her.
“Wren! Wait! This isn’t…” She wasn’t sticking around to hear whatever excuse he was trying and failing to come up with. God only knew what she was thinking right now, and he couldn’tblame her. He reached out to grab her elbow, and she spun around, her red and blonde hair bouncing into her face.
“If you’re about to say it isn’t what it looks like, then you can fuck right off, Brent.” She jerked her arm out of his grip and raised it in the air like she could beat him like a drum, shaking her head in restraint.
“Wren, you don’t have any reason to believe me. I know that. Just…let me try to explain. Please?”
“Who is this?” Dr. Ambrose asked from behind him. Brent squeezed his eyes shut. “Is this your girlfriend?”
“Absolutelyfucking not,” Wren snapped. “Who’s the cheerleader?” Her eyes narrowed on him, and his heart sped up.
“Cheerleader?” Ambrose echoed. “Okay, look…I think we just need to calm down.”
“AndIthink…you need to mind your own fucking business and go back in that fancy apartment before I decide tobe aggressive…be-be-aggressive.”
“Wren, she’s not—she’s my doctor, okay? There’s nothing—”
“Yourdoctor?” Wren scoffed, smiling like she was about to commit murder, and tossing her head back. “What happened? She forget her tongue depressor, and decide to use her own instead? Got something lodged in your throat?”
“Wren, please…calm down.”
“Tell me to calm down, again. I dare you. Might wanna keep her around, cause if you take another step towards me, you’llneeda fucking doctor, Stratford.”
The guilt he felt was heavy, but the conflict was heavier. He’d wanted nothing more in the past few weeks than to be with her. They’d talked about what happened in the hospital. She told him to keep his distance, and he honored that. Then at the funeral, she came. She came, and he remained at a distance…because she never made it clear that she wanted anything else.Even if it wasn’t what it appeared to be on that couch, how was this his fault? He gave her exactly what she asked him for, even though it was a struggle every damn day to stay away from her. Brent tested her and took a step forward.
“Hit me then, Wren. If it’ll make you feel better, then hit me.” She trembled and stared at him like she was contemplating it, but said nothing, locking onto his eyes. “I’ll say it again. This is not what it looks like, but if it were? Would you really care? Can you really be that pissed at me, Wren? Do you have any fucking idea how hard it’s been for me? You asked me to back off, and I did. I check my phone every fucking day hoping your name comes up, and it doesn’t. I’ve been totally understanding about giving you space…time. How can you honestly stand there and hate me?”
“Because that’s easier, Brent!” she screamed, a single tear ripping down her cheek as she shoved him back. “It’s always been easier! God, I can’tbelieveI fucking…you know what? Fuck this.” She threw her hands up and turned away, storming back to the elevator.
“Right, Wren! Run away! Run away, cause it’s so much fucking easier thanfeelingsomething!” Brent argued, chasing after her with heavy strides.
“Fuck you!” she sniffled, stepping into the elevator and slamming her fist on the button inside. The doors started to close, and Brent threw his arm out, stopping them and bracing a hand on the side.
“Why did you come over here, Wren?” he asked, standing in the doorway so she couldn’t leave.
“Lemme go!” she seethed, hitting the button again.
“Tell me why!” The doors tried to close, and he pushed them back. “Why now, when I’ve been waiting since I kissed you that night at the hospital? Did you come here because I made anass out of myself again, and you were waiting to point me to the nearest speeding bus?”
