Page 45 of Dirty Hit
“No, you talked,” she interjects, her voice taking on a spoilt-little-girl tone. “You made a decision while you were angry. Your parents—your parents loved me, Bren. They still ask about us every time they call. They think this is just a rough patch, they said—”
“I don’t care what my parents think,” he cuts in, and there’s a hard edge there I don’t hear often.Interesting. “They didn’t have to live through it. I did.”
“I know I messed up,” she says, and her voice wobbles. “I know I hurt you. I’ve apologized a thousand times. I’ve gone to counseling, I’m in a better place now, and I’m trying, I promise. Can’t you at least trust that?”
“This isn’t about whether or not you’re in a better place,” he says, patience stretched thin but still holding. “It’s about the fact that I’m not going back there. I’m not interested in… whatever this is you’re trying to resurrect. It’s over.”
“So that’s it,” she says. “You’re just going to throw away everything we had?”
There’s a pause. I picture him rubbing at his forehead, the way he does when he’s done but still trying to be gentle.
“What we had wasn’t what you think it was,” he says quietly. “And it’s not fair to either of us to pretend it can be fixed. I wish you well, I really do, but I’m not the person you should be bringing this to anymore.”
“You’re the only person I want to bring it to,” she says. “They told me God restores all things, Brendon. That He can fix—”
“God doesn’t make me obligated to let you back into my life,” he says, and there’s that hysteria-laced edge again, buried under control. “Please. Don’t come to my office about this. Don’t bring my parents into it. Don’t bring my faith into it. This is my boundary.”
She’s quiet for a few seconds. When she speaks again, her voice is smaller. “I just… I miss you.”
He lets out another slow breath. “I know, and I’m sorry,” he says. “But my answer’s still no.”
The silence that follows is heavy, so I take it as my cue.
I knock once, then push it open before either of them can say anything else.
Brendon’s sitting behind his desk, hands folded tightly on the surface. He looks up, and the color drains from his face. His eyes flick to the woman, then back to my face.
She’s standing in front of the desk, turned slightly toward me when I enter. She’s pretty, in a polished, small-town way: blonde hair styled just so, makeup done carefully enough to look natural. Her cardigan and dress screams youth leader or teacher. Someone’s vision of a pastor’s ideal future daughter-in-law.
Her eyes flick over me quickly, taking me in, lingering half a second too long on my chest, before she drags them away.
“Hey,” I say, sliding my kind face on like a well-worn mask. My smile is easy and warm, the one I give reporters and donors. “Sorry to interrupt. Door was open.”
Brendon’s mouth opens and closes once before he manages, “Dominic. Hi. I wasn’t… expecting you.”
“Story of my life,” I say lightly, then give Hannah a polite nod. “Didn’t mean to barge in. I can come back.”
“No,” Brendon says quickly, eyes darting to her and back. “We were—wearedone.”
She looks between us, confusion flickering over her face. “I should go,” she says. “I have… class.”
“Right,” he says, voice softening. “Take care of yourself, okay?”
She flinches like the words hurt more than a dismissal would have. “You too,” she says, then brushes past me, her perfume trailing in the air before the hallway swallows her up.
I close the door gently behind her, then turn back to him.
Up close, he looks tired. There are faint shadows under his eyes, and his shoulders are tight under his shirt.
I could ask,“What was that about?” “Who was she?” “Why do your parents still love her?” “What did she do that you’re drawing that line now?”
I could pry, since I gave a rule about not lying when I ask important questions, and I could cash that in.
Instead, I lean against the door, crossing my arms loosely.
“Everything okay?” I ask lightly.
He’s probably waiting for a comment about the girl who just left, and I give him nothing—simply the mildly curious expression of a guy who walked in on his TA chatting with someone and doesn’t really give a fuck.
