Breaking Brent Part 14

"If you told Jason and Jason told Nick, who in the f.u.c.k told you?" They all looked from one to the other, but didn't say anything. When had they all decided to keep things to themselves? At any other time they wouldn't have shut up.

"I did." Brent turned his head and looked in the direction of the voice. Standing on the porch, holding the screen door with a hip, was Jocelyn.

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"s.h.i.t." Brent threw the curse into the air and then stood from the chair in one swift movement. All of his brothers' scattered like roaches. "Who doesn't know that I was in the barn with Peyton during the wedding?"

"Actually it was the reception." Hayden made his comment as he hid behind one of the columns of the porch.

"What the f.u.c.k does it matter?" Brent yelled his way.

"Just saying," Hayden countered.

"Well, don't say. Don't say anything about it. None of you." He pointed his finger at each and every person on that porch and hiding somewhere slightly off of it.

"We won't," they all said except for Hayden. All of the gazes that had once been focused on Brent were now focused on his too-quiet brother still standing behind the column. Brent watched as Jason reached over from where he was cowering and punched Hayden on the arm.

"Aww, s.h.i.t. I won't. Jeez, who would I tell anyway?" He whined as he rubbed his arm.

"Just make sure you don't." Brent walked past his family and smiled to himself as they all moved farther away from him. All of them except for Jocelyn. She remained steadfast against the Texas backdrop and leaning casually against the door.

"How did you know I was in the barn with Peyton?" Brent watched the full-on smile cross Joss's face.

After seeing that smile he wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer to his question.

"I saw you."

"Saw me what?"

"I saw you watching her. You watched her during the wedding, after the wedding, during the reception, the whole time."

"Did not."

"Did too. You looked at her like..." She paused for a moment and Brent could see she was looking for the right word or the right phrase to express what she wanted him to know.

"You looked at her like there was no one else there. Even with two hundred people around, she was the only one you saw. She was the only one in the room." Jocelyn's giddiness over her proclamation worried Brent for a minute and confused him as well.

"Am I supposed to know what that means?"

"No, but I do, and that's all that counts." She waved goodbye to him and walked back inside the house. He would never understand women. Brent took the steps leading away from the porch and headed for his truck.

He had thought to give Peyton some time before he bombarded her with his intentions as they pertained to her. But now that his whole family knew, there was no sense in waiting. h.e.l.l, if Hayden knew

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then the whole county would know sooner or later. He still hadn't acquired the filter most people have between their heads and their mouths. He would say something without meaning to say something.

He had just reached his truck and was opening the door when he heard Jocelyn call after him from behind the screen door of the house.

"If you're going to see Peyton she's not at the bar."

Brent stopped. He turned to look at the four sets of eyes that were staring back at him. "Where is she?" He gave away his intended destination, but what did it matter now?

"I don't know. All I know is that when I called earlier to talk to her, Reed said she wasn't there."

"Why the h.e.l.l was Reed there?" Reed James did all he could to avoid working at the bar. He had even claimed to have morning sickness before to get out of a shift. He wouldn't have been there if unless something drastic had happened.

"I don't know. I didn't ask. All I know is that Peyton isn't working tonight and Reed has her shifts until tomorrow." Something wasn't right. Something had happened.

Brent turned away from her without a wave or even a goodbye. With one flick of his wrist, he brought the engine to life and threw it into gear. He headed down the drive fast enough that he could still see the dust flying as he turned onto the paved road heading toward Peyton.

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Chapter Thirteen.

Peyton hated what the mirror reflected. Her cheek was red and swollen and the three sharp lines running its length were scabbed. At least they weren't oozing blood anymore. d.a.m.n Kathleen and the d.a.m.ned fingernails she paid a fortune for.

Disgusted with herself, her reflection and the fact that Kathleen had actually smacked her but good made this entire episode seem all the more vivid and memorable in her mind.

She took one more long look at her face in the mirror, applied a little more of the ointment that was supposed to help with the healing and then flipped the light switch off and moved from the downstairs bathroom.

Absently, she walked around her living room, picking up a discarded shirt here or a forgotten shoe there. She wasn't a messy person, by any means, but she was far from a neat freak. The truth was she barely spent enough time at home for it to get messy or dirty or disturbed in any way. The only reason she made her bed in the mornings was because she loved climbing under the unwrinkled and pristine sheets at the end of the day.

Especially a day like today.

She and Reed and her grandfather had sat in the hallway of the barn for more than two hours before Murphy and her father had come out of the house. Nothing was said about their conversation-she knew better than to ask. Her father had hugged her and then left. Murphy had hugged her and left, and her grandfather had hugged her and given her the smelly ointment to put on her face.

She wondered if her parents now both knew just how messed up the whole situation with Murphy's wife was.

Kathleen was crazy for sure. The proof was written all over Murphy's and her own face. There was only one thing worse than a crazy woman-a crazy woman with unlimited a.s.sets. Kathleen was both.

Out of habit, Peyton checked her cell phone to see if she had missed any calls. She hadn't missed a one. Murphy would call her tomorrow or come by. He'd said as much. Maybe it was a better sign that he hadn't called.

Murphy would clean up the mess like he always did. Kathleen didn't do anything. She didn't work.

She didn't clean the house-she hired someone to do it.

Even with her thoughts occupied by her brother and his mess of a life, she couldn't get her mind off him-off Brent. She was a fool to let herself even think about the what-ifs and what-could-have-beens that surrounded him. What had happened had happened-it wouldn't again. She should regret it more than she did. She should regret what she felt-not the encounter itself. s.e.x was s.e.x. That was that-nothing more.

What was done was done.

There was nothing she could do about it now. She couldn't take it back if she wanted to, and she wasn't entirely sure she wanted to take it back. That made her a worse person than the one who had done it against the wall of a tack room at a wedding with two hundred people not twenty feet away. To top all of that off, she had an ex-fiance who was currently MIA. Peyton had tried to call Carter every hour on the hour for the past few days-since she had left Brent. Surprise, surprise, Carter Nash was nowhere to be found.

The fact that he was supposed to be in Oklahoma City and Reed thought he was somewhere totally different irritated her. No, she didn't keep tabs on Carter all the time. He was a grown man. He could take care of himself. But it had been weeks since she had talked to him and months since she had seen him. She had told him the last time they talked that she would meet him in Oklahoma City last weekend.

She would return the ring she couldn't seem to leave in her jewelry box and he would take it back accordingly. Wearing the ring was a lot easier than answering why she wasn't wearing it. Everything would go smoothly. There would not be fighting, no hurtful words, no blame placed-just an end.

The fact that he had been unreachable for such a long amount of time did irritate her though. Even if they weren't a couple anymore they were still friends, and friends worried about each other. Didn't they?

Was he worried about her? Obviously not. He hadn't tried to call. Did he care that she couldn't get in touch with him because his stupid phone had been disconnected once again? Probably not. When Carter was rodeoing all Carter cared about was the next town and the next prize to be won.

She should be used to it by now. They had been engaged for nearly three years and he was rarely here, rarely available and never near when she needed him.

Drained, she walked with heavy limbs to the kitchen to lock the side door. True, it was only a little after nine, but she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was curl up with her trusty, always-there, always-waiting pillow and drift into a deep sleep. A sleep that wasn't racked by dreams and images of Brent-past, present or future.

Walking through her small cottage-style house, she doused lights before heading to bed. She had just taken the first step onto the staircase when she heard a knock on the front door.

Dread filled her bones. Nothing good could come from an uninvited visitor-especially after what had happened the last few days.

The knock sounded once more and Peyton's heart matched its cadence. She turned, took a deep breath, said a silent prayer for courage and strength and walked to the door. When her hand touched the door k.n.o.b she noticed that it was shaking. She silently told herself to quit being such a baby and open the door.

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With swift movements full of fear, she twisted the ornate k.n.o.b and pulled the door open with all her might. When she saw who was standing on the other side her shoulders relaxed, her heart slowed and her body gave in to the stress of the last few days.

Without thinking about what consequences her actions would have later, she launched herself into his arms and let the tears she couldn't shed before fall. She didn't know how long they stood there on her front porch, in the dark, him holding her, her crying her heart out into his chest. All she knew was that he was here and his strong arms held her when she didn't have the strength to hold herself. It felt good to have someone hold her-it felt good to have him hold her.

She wondered if she had the strength to ever let him go again. For her own good, and for her heart and her sanity's good, she hoped she did.

When Peyton had opened the door to his knock he had actually been a little nervous. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do? The nervous feeling spinning in his belly stopped when he saw her face. His mood went from nervous and a bit elated too madder than h.e.l.l in a heartbeat.

What had happened to her face? It was dark on the porch, but Peyton's swollen and scratched face could have been seen from a mile away. Brent had felt fury filter through his blood and was on the verge of demanding to know who had done that to her face. But when she'd launched herself into his arms and hung on to him for dear life, the rage had dissipated, although never fully gone away.

Brent thought a couple of times during the long length they stood there that he needed to move her inside, sit her down, make her relax. But he couldn't bring himself to let her go. The sobs tearing her body apart and racking his as well stopped him from moving an inch.

He nestled the top of her head beneath his chin and increased the hold he had on her. Both seemed to help her with whatever she was going through. Her sobs finally stopped, but he could still feel her tears soaking the front of his shirt. He didn't care. He did care that the night had turned cool and Peyton was wearing nothing more than a thin nightshirt.

That was when he really noticed the nightgown. Hasty visions of him tearing it from her body stopped as soon as his eyes connected with her face and its swollen and scabbed texture. When he felt a shiver move through her body and then into his own, he did the only thing he knew to do. With ease, Brent lifted her into his arms, stepped into the house's foyer and closed the door with his foot.

He moved past the entryway and into the living-room until he located the couch. It was in the same place it had always been. With her still tucked in his embrace, he dodged the few pieces of furniture in the room and sat on the overstuffed sofa, taking her with him.

They sat there forever it seemed like. Neither of them spoke. They didn't have to. Brent had a million questions to ask her, but he would wait until Peyton decided she was ready to talk.

When she finally spoke it was into his chest, and he could barely make out what she had said.

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"Say again, darlin'? I didn't get that the first time." His arms squeezed her body and he felt the loss when she moved away from him so that he could see her face and hear what she said. He would have rather listened to her garbled words all night than to have her shy away. But he let her.

"I said I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me." She wiped her eyes with the back of her hands and Brent clenched his teeth when she winced against the pain she obviously felt when she touched her cheek.

"You don't have to apologize to me."

She was still wiping her tears away as she moved to the other end of the couch. Seeing her sitting there, immersed in the huge cushions with her feet drawn up under her body, her face scrubbed clean of makeup and her hair falling across her bare shoulders, Brent regretted what he had lost-more than he ever had.

"Who did that to your face?" Brent watched as her lips parted as if to speak, but she closed them just as quickly.

"I don't want to talk about it," she said before she stood from the couch and moved quickly to the kitchen. He watched as she flipped on the light illuminating the huge area and fiddled with this and that, trying to make herself appear busy. He knew he had one of two choices to make. He could either let it go and ignore her mangled appearance, or he could press her until she told him what had happened, who had done it and where he could find them.

He wanted to find whoever had hurt her and beat the s.h.i.t out of them. He wanted them to feel as bad as he felt for Peyton. He wanted to hurt them as they had hurt her. He wanted her to see that he cared enough about her to try to protect her, try to shield her, try to do all the things he hadn't done years before.

Brent wanted to take the place of the man who should have been here comforting her, helping her, and maiming the person who had dared hurt her.

Where was Carter Nash?

Brent could remember seeing him six months ago in town. He knew he had stayed a few days-a few days with Peyton. Those few days Carter had been in town were the first few Brent had ever spent with Kelly Cantrell and her ever-ready body. Brent had also stayed drunk and hidden, not wanting to risk meeting them both in town, on the street, hand in hand like the almost happily married couple they were.

Or so he'd thought.

The events that had taken place between him and Peyton made him wonder just how happy the happy couple actually were. He knew Peyton. She didn't cheat when she was with someone. She didn't look another man's way-she never had. Why had she looked his way? He and his d.i.c.k were both glad that she had, but there were several questions still lingering in his mind. No time like the present.