Motionless, Brett kept his features schooled. Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“It’s impossible to mend bone in that short a time period. Almost as impossible as facing down a bear. Well, maybe more.” Colby licked her lips. “So, am I imagining it or did I see the impossible? Or has your secret hippie commune discovered the secret of magical healing?”
A fat envelope of details and facts about the enigmatic yet utterly appealing woman sitting in his lap rested to his right. A few hundred yards away, his pack went about their business, but also gossiped about their relationship and possible rebellion. His best friend had returned and sought to rejoin the pack, another reason why she was in his lap asking questions about the impossible speed of his healing. If she knew he was up and managing to limp today, she would have so many more questions.
Cupping her chin, Brett considered all the things he could say or do to distract her. “I can’t answer the question, not without lying to you. So I am going to ask you to not require an answer right now.”
Though she frowned, she didn’t pull away. “Does that mean you’ll answer it in the future?”
“It means exactly what I said. I can’t give you an answer at the moment that wouldn’t be a lie.” She’s not ready yet… Luc had been very right. She wasn’t ready. Yet.
I can’t answer the question. Not without lying to you. The words chased around in circles through her mind like a dog fixated on its tail. She couldn’t not hear them over and over. On the one hand, the honesty in his very direct request impressed her. The easiest thing would have been to tell a lie, yet Brett hadn’t told her one. He’d simply said he couldn’t answer the question without lying. Why not the truth? Maybe because it’s none of my business.
Or maybe because whatever he would tell me I wouldn’t believe? They hadn’t really been able to finish the conversation. His phone rang, and he’d had exchanged five words with the person on the other end—when, where are you and how many. Whatever the answers were, he’d left immediately after giving her a gentle caress against her cheek. He was gone, leaving her to drink her coffee alone on the porch and mull over the secrets and mysteries immersing them.
She should probably go inside, check what laundry she had so she could ask to borrow his washing machine. Or maybe she should take her car to the local main street—surely they had a Laundromat around. I haven’t left his house without him in five days… The scandalous thought skated through her mind. She hadn’t even returned to her vehicle for anything other than her phone charger.
Reminded, she pulled the phone from her back pocket and studied the screen. She’d forgotten to charge it for four days, and she hadn’t missed having it at all. Most people her age were absolutely tethered by technology. Hell, even Brett was. She’d actually ventured into his office once while he’d been on a Skype conference call. He had two phones in his office, a desktop, a laptop, a printer, a fax machine and what looked like some giant black box server device not to mention the cell phone he always had within reach.
Stroking her thumb across the screen, she turned the phone on and unlocked it. A red five stared up at her from the phone app. Most of the people she knew grew up with cell phones, she hadn’t owned one prior to a couple of years before. Her mother disliked most technology so they hadn’t had anything outside of a regular television and old fashioned rotary landline, and that only for emergencies.
She wasn’t Amish, but sometimes she imagined she wasn’t far off. Touching the phone icon, she opened the messages and stared at the numbers. The two calls from Miranda touched her heart. One from a number she didn’t recognize, one from her probation officer, and the last from her mother’s landline number.
The taut emotion squeezing her over Miranda calling abandoned her for a chill at her mother’s number. Her mother didn’t use the phone except for emergencies. Pressing the message to play, she put the phone to her ear.
The words were Korean, but she understood them. It had been her first language and the only one used at home with her mother unless her father was present. He didn’t speak the language and her mother often reprimanded her sharply if she tried to ask a question in private. It’s rude to not include someone in the conversation when they are here. Do not do it again.
Her mother had a lot of rules. Taking a sip of coffee, she listened to the message, frowned, then hit play again.
“It is my understanding that you have completed your penance for the theft of pharmaceuticals. After a contemplative discussion with your father, we will allow you to visit us on the lunar New Year, provided that you have not committed any other crimes. Be well, daughter. I hope to see you next year.” The message ended and she hit replay one more time. Her mother hadn’t spoken a single word to her since the police came to arrest her. Dad had, but he’d been quiet, restrained. He’d also come to court during her hearing. Sitting in the back of the room, he’d been a silent pillar of support. They didn’t offer to bail her out and she’d had to contact a bail bondsman herself. She’d made good on the money, but it had taken every dime she possessed. After her sentence had been announced, her father rose and left. The last time she saw him was when he brought her a box of her things at the hospital—