His Brother's Bride by Tara Taylor Quinn

Author:Tara Taylor Quinn
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-03-14T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“YOU WANT TO talk about it?”

Laurel shook her head.

She did want to. So badly. She just didn’t know how. Having spent so much of her life hurting inside by herself, she hardly knew what else to do.

“You sure?” Scott’s gaze was soft, inviting.

She nodded, but she couldn’t quit crying. It was like that sometimes; the hurt would well up until it was an overwhelming physical ache. When that happened she had to just let it have its way, let it hurt, until some of the pressure eased and she could go on.

“Can you at least tell me what in particular about the movie is so upsetting to you?”

What she wanted to do was lay her head on his shoulder and cry until there were no tears left. She wanted to be comforted like a child.

And like a woman.

“It’s Lucy, you know?” She wasn’t sure where the words came from. She wasn’t good at this sort of thing—explaining her feelings.

She understood them perfectly. She just didn’t know how to put them into words without losing the intensity in the telling.

And it was the intensity that was so hard to live with.

“What about her?”

“Her whole life.” The tears continued to drip slowly down as she spoke. Lying back against the headboard, pillows propped behind her back, Laurel shredded the tissue she held between her hands. “The aloneness. I feel it so acutely.”

She studied the floral pattern on the bedspread and the threads in the quilting. Anything but look at Scott. She couldn’t get that close. Couldn’t have him seeing inside her.

“Because she’s celebrating Christmas alone?” he asked.

“It’s more than that.”

“What?”

In spite of her inclination not to, she glanced over at him. He lay on his side, his head propped on his hand, watching her. His focus was so complete it was as though he was physically touching her.

“She has no one who knows her—really knows her. No one who shares a history with her, who remembers what she was like as a baby. No one who shares a single genetic trait with her. No one to belong to.”

Hearing herself speak, Laurel felt ridiculous. She was weeping for a character in a movie, after all, but for her, the emotions the woman felt were very, very real.

Damaging.

“And you feel like her?”

“I just know how she feels.”

It felt so odd, talking like this. It wasn’t something she did. Had three and a half years of grief humbled her this much?

Or was there something about this man? Scott had changed. He’d developed an awareness and emotional maturity he’d never had before, and she felt herself opening up to him.

“You never spoke about your biological parents.” He broke into her thoughts. “Do you have any idea who they were, or what happened to them?”

The question was unexpected. It was not the kind of thing he’d ever asked before when they’d had their long discussions about life.

It also wasn’t a question she answered. In the past, this was where she sidestepped, prevaricated. But something pushed her forward.

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