Page 70 of The Lies of Bryn van Doren

Jessica hears so much in that one syllable. It’s obvious he doesn’t agree. Or perhaps what she’s said isn’t the truth. She thinks back to what he said earlier, about his father spending all his free time in the snow, and she wonders what that really means. Not for his father or his brother, but for him—for Khalohn. She watches as the man across from her takes a bite of his omelet, all the while trying to piece together the parts of him he’s given. She doesn’t have long to ponder anything before she hears her phone.

Glancing behind her, she tries to remember where she put it. Spotting her purse in one of the chairs tucked beneath the dining room table, she slips from her seat and hurries to see who it is. It’s unusual for her to answer a call when she’s with Khalohn. Then again, it’s just as unusual for anyone to call her in the hours they spend together. When she sees it’s the hospital trying to reach her, her stomach drops. Immediately, she swipes her thumb across the screen, lifting the device to her ear with both hands.

“Hello?” she asks, unable to hide the anxiety from her voice.

“Hi, is this Jessica Chapman?”

“Yes, yes. What’s wrong?”

“Dr. Montgomery wanted me to reach you. Beth is having difficulty breathing this morning. We’ve increased her oxygen, and she’s stable, but—”

“I’m on my way.”

She hangs up, unable to hear another word. Tossing her phone aside, she forgets about her breakfast and doesn’t feel Khalohn’s eyes staring at her back as she digs through her purse for the change of clothes she packed. Without sparing a glance over her shoulder, she rushes to the bathroom to freshen up as quickly as possible. Fear courses through her body, her adrenaline spiking, causing her hands to tremble.

“Oh, my god, mama,” she whimpers as she splashes cool water onto her face.

It doesn’t matter that the nurse who phoned her made sure to inform her Beth is stable. Such assurances mean nothing given the situation is serious enough to phone herat all. After nearly three weeks in the hospital, news of her mother’s condition deteriorating rather than improving makes her sick to her stomach.

Jessica grabs hold of either side of the sink, forcing in deep, calming breaths. Calm seems like a state of being she won’t be able to manage closed in a bathroom that seems to be shrinking by the second, so she keeps moving. She tosses her hair into a messy bun on top of her head, ripping off her nightie in exchange for the sports bra, tank top, leggings, and tennis shoes she grabbed. When she packed the clothes, when there was no news from the hospital, and her mother still had enough energy to argue with Jessica about sitting at her bedside too much, Jessica thought she might squeeze in a dance class that afternoon. Now, regardless of what her outfit might imply, dance is so far outside the realm of possibility.

Beth is having difficulty breathing this morning.

She swallows the knot in her throat, shoving aside the bathroom door and returning to her purse. This time, as she grabs her phone, she notices Khalohn staring.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, making her way toward him. “I have to—I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“Okay,” he says simply, his eyebrows knit together in confusion.

Her mind still racing, she doesn’t think about kissing him goodbye, she just does it. The moment her lips are smashed against his, a spark of calm flickers in her chest. Needing that feeling like she needs air to breathe, she doesn’t pull away. Lifting one of her hands, she molds it around his bearded cheek, opening her mouth just a little. He does the same, teasing her with the tip of his tongue before she pulls away. She touches her forehead to his, closing her eyes as she draws in a deep breath. She inhales his scent, clinging to a comfort she can’t explain.

Afraid she can’t afford to waste another second, she whispers, “I have to go,” and then she’s gone.

The next morning,as Khalohn folds himself into the backseat of the Maybach, Atzel closing him in, he’s still thinking about that kiss goodbye. All the way to the Financial District, he stares out of the window, wondering what it was that made Bryn kiss him like that. Like she needed it. Like she knows something he’s only just begun to question—that what they have is far greater than what it seems.

Upon arriving at his office building, he wishes Atzel a good day, fastening his suit jacket closed as he walks to the front entrance. The lobby is quiet, as it usually is at such an early hour, and his elevator ride into the sky is a solitary one. By the time he’s granted himself entrance into his company’s suite, he’s made up his mind. He wants to see her again. Their Sunday morning was cut short. More importantly, when he has her in his arms again, it’ll be all the assurance he needs to know that whatever it is that called her away in such a hurry is all right.

I won’t ask after the details,he thinks to himself, shrugging his way out of his jacket as he crosses into his office.It’s not my business unless she makes it my business.

He pauses as he hangs his jacket, suddenly wholly aware she’s never asked him for anything.

Except once…

The only thing she’s ever wanted from him ishim.

He doesn’t know what to make of this realization, and he chooses not to dwell on it. The matter at hand is simply that he wants to see her. He can make that happen, and so he will. Whatever she decides to share with him is up to her, but her presence will be enough for him.

He goes about his usual Monday morning routine, letting the day begin and allowing his office to fill before he sends his message. He’s in between meetings when he pulls out his phone and shoots off his text.

Tonight. 8:00.

He enters a conference room, the table already occupied by the participants of his next obligatory hour. He barely has his seat in a chair when he gets a response. Casually, he glances down at his phone and opens the message.

I can’t. I’m sorry.

Khalohn’s brow furrows. She’s never denied him. It’s not the way their arrangement works. With no choice but to let the matter lie, he blacks out his screen and turns his attention to the people in front of him. A little more than an hour later, when the meeting comes to a close, he’s immediately pulled aside by one of his analysts. That conversation is interrupted by a phone call he can’t refuse. Before he knows it, Maribelle is announcing her lunch break.

The instant he has a chance to think on it, the irritation he feels at Bryn’s refusal creates a dull burn in the center of his chest. His annoyance at the sensation of being out of control is compounded by the way his day continues to bombard him. Before he can manage to get through one thing, another arises. Now that he has a second to himself, rather than dissect and stew over what he’s feeling and why, he charges straight ahead.

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