Every time I think about where I’m heading, my head throbs and has been since I made the decision to tell Brittany in person. It’s not like I’m a coward . . . hell, I’ve done more tours than I can count, but I hate hurting people, especially women. The thing that worries me the most is that I don’t know who this is going to hurt the most . . . Brittany or Dahlia.
Glancing at the dash, I realize time is getting on and I need to get moving. Get it out of the way.
Reaching up and rubbing my temples, I sigh. “I need to get going.”
“I guess you do. Please call me, if you need me.”
That’s my girl, always worrying about me.
“I will, babe.”
I hang up and let my cell drop to the passenger seat as I put the truck into drive and turn onto Brittany’s street. I pause before heading up the driveway, and then I put my foot down and pull up close to the garages.
Her parents live in a large ranch-style house. It’s over the top for my taste, especially with nine bedrooms, all of which look like frilly cakes. As far as I know, her parents, brother and Brittany live here as well as the round-the-clock nurse. Every time I enter, I can’t wait to leave. There’s an overpowering sense of doom that always hits me as soon as I walk through the front door.
I grimace, sitting in the car is not going to get this started and it sure isn’t helping. I wrench open the door and jump out before noticing her brother, Evan, who is standing in the doorway to the house. We’ve never seen eye to eye, and we certainly aren’t going to now.
As though there’s a dark cloud hanging over my head, I slowly walk toward him.
“It’s not her birthday,” he comments, unmoving.
I don’t answer.
“Is she up?” I ask, hoping today’s one of the days when she’s been moved from the bed to her chair.
It will make holding a conversation with her a lot easier because she’s usually more alert if she’s sitting up in the chair. I’m also hoping that it’s one of her good days.
He sighs and shakes his head. “She’s still in bed. The doctors just left.”
I raise a brow waiting for him to continue, which he doesn’t.
Trying to bite my tongue around him is getting old; in fact, it was old five minutes after I first met him.
“And?” I patiently wait.
“She’s getting a cold and we’re to keep a close eye on her. As though we don’t anyway.”
I nod, shoving my hands in my back pockets. “Can I see her?”
“I guess.” He opens the door, and waits for me to precede him inside. “Don’t upset her.”
Great!
I admit. “She isn’t going to like why I’m here.”
He stops and turns to look at me.
“If it’s about a divorce, then I think you might be surprised.”
I frown.
Am I that transparent?
If Brittany wants a divorce then why hasn’t anything been said before? It’s not as though there hasn’t been plenty of time.
My fists clench.
“She wants that?”