Blood and Sympathy (26 page)

"He'll be
going to Riverbend in Nashville for a long, long time."

I'd heard
everything I wanted to hear and walked back into the shop.

At quitting time,
Uncle Jeb came over and put his hand on my back. "Go on, Braden. Take my
truck. Talk to her."

I nodded and took
his keys. "I'll try."

The buzzer sounded
when I opened the front door to the bakery and Belle smiled in my direction.
"Well hello there, cupcake. What can I do you for?"

"Is Claire
around?"

"She had
something to do. She shouldn't be long, and if you want to wait, you're welcome
to." She walked into the kitchen area.

I stuck my fingers
inside the collar of my t-shirt and tugged it away from my neck. I'd almost
talked myself into getting back in my truck and going home when Claire came
through the front door. The smile on her face stole my breath, but it faded the
minute she saw me standing by the pastry case.

"Why are you
here, Braden?"

"Claire, can I
talk to you? Ten minutes. Please?" I was prepared to do anything to get
her to hear me out.

Her face hardened,
her lips forming a thin white line, and my stomach clenched as tight as a fist.
"Everything that needed to be said has been said already." She
brushed past me. "Go the fuck away, Braden. I mean it."

"I planned to
tell you everything."

She shot me a
hateful look over her shoulder. "When, exactly? Before or after I went for
a joyride in the trunk of that psycho's car?"

Yeah. I had
nothing. She was right.

"Never mind,
Braden. It's all water under the bridge now. Go home."

I blinked and she
was gone.

Belle gave me a pitying
smile. "It'll be okay, sugar. I promise, ain't no one ever died of a
broken heart."

"I wouldn't
want to bet on that," I mumbled, and stalked out.

Claire Copeland

"When are you
going to stop being so damn bullheaded and admit you're still crazy about
Braden Sayer?" Belle was never one to beat around the bush, so why her
words surprised me, I wasn't sure.

"I don't know
what you mean."

"He's been
coming in here at least twice every week for more than five months now. Do you
really think he's stopping because he's in love with my muffins?" She folded
her arms over her chest and shook her head. "Life's too short to hold
grudges."

"Okay, yes. I
admit it. Every day he walks through that door, it hammers away at my resolve
to keep him out of my life. And I guess if he were to ask me out, I might say
yes. There, does that make you feel better?"

"Yes, as a
matter of fact, it does." A devilish smile caused her eyes to sparkle.
"So, why don't you ask him?"

My mouth popped
open. "I couldn't do that. Besides, just because I might still have
feelings for him, that doesn't mean he gives a shit about me."

"Oh right. I
forgot. It's the muffins."

I pursed my lips.
"Shut up."

She chuckled and
started to brew a fresh pot of coffee. "Don't look now, but here comes the
sex on a stick."

"I can't
believe you just said that." I felt my cheeks heat up.

Braden walked
through the front door and I swear to all that's holy, he got better looking
every day. He approached the counter with his hands behind his back. He had a
mile-wide grin on his face.

"Why do I get
the feeling you're up to something?"

He plopped a
package down in front of me. It was wrapped in gold paper with a big red bow on
it.

"For me?"

"No, pretty
girl. It's for Belle." My face fell and he started laughing. "Of
course it's for you. Merry Christmas, Claire."

"I don't know
what to say."

"How about 'Sure,
Braden, I'd love to have dinner with you Friday night'?"

"Oh, I
don't..."

"She would
love to, Braden. Don't you dare take no for an answer," Belle hollered
from the kitchen.

I bit my bottom lip
and nodded. "Okay, but why don't you let me cook for you? I'm not taking
cooking classes for nothing. You can be my guinea pig."

"I'd like
that."

Braden's usual were
the caramel apple muffins, still warm out of the oven. I bagged up a couple and
poured him a fresh cup of coffee to go. "See you then."

He nodded at the
present on the counter. "You going to open that?"

"My fingers
are all sticky right now. Maybe I'll wait until Friday. It'll be closer to
Christmas." Truth was, my hands were shaking so bad I didn't think I could
manage to tear the wrapping paper without looking like a basket case.

"Oh, well, if
you're sure?" A shadow of sadness crossed his face, gone with the blink of
an eye. He picked up his coffee and took a sip. "Just how I like it.
Strong and sweet. Kind of like you."

I knew my face was
fifty shades of red, but I couldn't help it. When had that happened? How had I
allowed him inside the walls around my heart? And when had I ever let a man
make me blush? The answers always revolved around him. "I bet you say that
to all the girls."

He winked.
"Just the ones I can get to blush."

My insides puddled.
"You're so full of shit, Braden Sayer. Get out of here." I bit back a
smile and tossed a wadded napkin at his chest.

"Fine. Did you
need me to bring anything Friday night?"

Your toothbrush
and a pair of clean underwear
?
"No, just your appetite."

He gave me an odd
look, tipped his head to the side and asked, "My appetite makes you
blush?"

I pointed toward the
door. "Go!"

Braden Sayer

I started to make
music boxes again as soon as the marina slowed down for the season. Uncle Jeb
had been generous with my wages, and I'd been able to buy some fine quality
wood and supplies. None of that second-rate crap I had while in juvie. I'd been
selling them at a small consignment shop in Hensteeth, conveniently located
just three doors down from Belle's and Whistles.

Twice a week, I'd
drop off a newly crafted box or two, and pick up the money from the ones that
had been sold. And twice a week, I'd stop to see Claire. For five months, I'd
found just about every excuse in the book to see her. At first, she ran and hid
in the back, and made Belle wait on me.

It took awhile, but
she finally stopped hiding. One day, she smiled, and then finally, she actually
said more than "thanks, come again." Somehow, it had evolved into
dinner Friday night. She was going to be cooking for me.

The music box I'd
made for her was my best work yet. I couldn't wait to see her eyes when she
opened it. Every detail, every corner, every surface, had been crafted with all
the love my soul had left to give. I admit I was fucking scared to death. She'd
be opening the present in front of me tonight, and I wanted to see the look on
her face, but what if she hated it?

***

I stood in the entryway
of her cracker box sized apartment and took it in. "Nice place you got
here."

"It's perfect
for one person."

"Kind of like
my trailer." I glanced around and spotted the gift I'd given her sitting
on the small kitchen table.

She snickered.
"Hate to break it to you, but that tin can is barely fit for
one
person."

I shrugged and
handed her the bottle of Chardonnay I talked Uncle Jeb into buying for me.
"I hope it goes with what you're fixing."

"Ha! Who are
you kidding? Wine goes with everything."

After dinner, we
polished off the rest of the wine, and I was feeling kind of woozy and warm all
over. Some of that had to do with how she made me feel. "That was the best
noodle stuff I've ever eaten."

"Fettuccine
Alfredo."

"Yeah,
that."

We laughed and fell
into an easy conversation, kind of like it used to be between us, even if we
both knew we were skirting around the obvious. The subject we were too scared
to talk about because we didn't want to ruin the moment or undo everything we'd
done to get this far again.

As though sensing
my thoughts, she cleared her throat and picked up the unopened gift I gave her
at the bakery. "Can I open this now?"

I swallowed hard
and nodded. "I hope you like it."

She bit her lip and
slid a fingernail under the edge of the wrapping paper, peeling it away and
revealing the gift. "Oh, Braden. It's ... God, it's perfect."

I cupped her cheek.
"Just like you, pretty girl."

She held her hand
over mine and gave it a quick squeeze. Her eyes dropped to the music box. I'd
worked forever getting it just right. The wood was as smooth as satin. The
color was walnut brown like her eyes. Even though her name meant light, she was
more subtle than the sun--she was the moon. Beautiful and mysterious.

She lifted the lid,
and the music began to play. She listened wordlessly until the song ended, then
she rewound the key and played it again. When her eyes met mine, they were
brimming with tears ready to spill down her face. I swallowed and wiped them
with the pad of my thumb.

"Clair de
Lune," she whispered.

"I was going
to use Moonlight Sonata but remembered..."

She shut the music
box and grasped my hands in hers, pulling them to her mouth. "Olivia was
my best friend. We were as different as night and day. She was the good sister--me,
not so much. I didn't understand how it was possible for two sisters to be so completely
different."

I stared at our
intertwined fingers, watching them rise and fall with each breath she took. I
opened my mouth to speak, but she shook her head.

"No, let me
finish. We were like salt in one another's wounds. She'd say white, I'd say
black. No matter our differences, no matter how many times I fucked up, she
always forgave me, and she loved me in spite of it all."

Her bottom lip
quivered, and my heart squeezed inside my chest. She wiped the fresh tears on
the sleeve of her shirt and kissed me on the forehead.

"I don't agree
with what you did. But, I think I get why. It makes you a bigger person for accepting
your brother, even when he couldn't have deserved it less. I get that. Just
like Olivia and me." She sniffled, and I pulled her to me.

"Can you ever
forgive me?" I asked between kisses.

"You wouldn't
be here right now if I couldn't. Now shut up and kiss me like you mean it."

That was as good an
invitation as I needed. I bent and lifted her into my arms.

NASHVILLE, TN

Davidson County Tennessee law enforcement
personnel have launched an active investigation and manhunt in an attempt to
apprehend the wanted escapee. Davidson County Sheriff's Office received an
emergency assistance request from officials at
Riverbend Maximum Security
Institution
just shortly after 6:00
p.m. this evening.

Officials reported while transporting inmate Brogan
Anthony Sayer to
Riverbend Maximum
Security
Institution
in Nashville, Tennessee, he managed to escape from officer's custody, possibly
in the area of
Centennial Blvd. and Briley Pkwy.

Sayer is described as an eighteen-year-old white
male adult, 6'2", black hair, blue eyes, medium build, and a
"Sympathy for the Devil" tattoo on his right inner forearm.

Sayer is a convicted murderer who has been
sentenced with the death penalty. He is to be considered armed and highly
dangerous. Law enforcement officials are asking anyone with information as to Sayer's
whereabouts to dial 911. Do not try to contact or apprehend if located.