Slowly, she turned the photograph toward him.
His eyelashes flickered. “Where did you find that?”
“Dean had it hidden in his room. Aunt Mae told me about it.”
“It’s a very good picture of Anna,” he murmured.
She nodded. “And of you.”
His gaze lifted again, his dark eyes flaming so intently she could almost feel the heat. “I didn’t know how to tell you.”
The first flicker of anger penetrated the numbing shock Bailey had felt since that moment when Elva had looked at Bran and hadn’t seen him. “I see. So you left me in ignorance. You lied to me.”
He winced. “I never lied to you,” he insisted. “I just didn’t tell you… everything.”
“You lied, Bran,” she insisted, clinging to the anger. It was so much easier to bear than the grief. “Or should I call you Ian? Or whoever the hell you are.”
She lifted an unsteady hand to her aching temple. “God, I feel like Lois Lane,” she muttered.
He frowned. “Who?”
“Another woman too stupid to put two and two together and come up with the truth.”
“You aren’t stupid. Far from it.”
“Funny,” she said with a flat laugh,” I’m feeling pretty dense. I came here to escape the mess I’d made of my life in Chicago, and now look what I’ve done. I’ve fallen for a ghost.”
“I told you I didn’t want that to happen.”
“Didn’t you?” she asked, remembering her aunt’s theory.
“What do you mean?” he asked, narrowing his eyes.
“Having Dean fall in love with your sister apparently gave her another chance at life. Maybe you thought the same thing would happen for you.”
He visibly recoiled. “You can’t believe that.”
“I don’t know what to believe anymore,” she whispered. “I only know that I’m so damned tired of being used by the men I meet.”
His own temper flared, making his face harden, his eyes glitter dangerously. His voice was very soft. “You’re comparing me to that man who threatened you? And the other fools who preceded him?”
“There weren’t that many,” she snapped defensively. “But they did have one thing in common with you. They didn’t mind lying when it suited their purposes, either.”
“Bailey.” He moved closer, his hand lifted toward her, his expression softened. “Let me explain—”
Instinctively, she flinched.
He froze. His hand clenched, then dropped to his side.
The look in his eyes broke her heart.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I—”
“The one poss
ibility I couldn’t accept,” he said hoarsely, “was that you would be afraid of me.”
“But I’m—”