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Taylor spoke up. “Coffee girl…Katie was here.”
Brendan squinted his eyes shut, as if that could cancel out the words that followed. A lead weight dropped in his gut. He heard the door to his office open, but he didn’t bother looking to see who’d come in.
“Bren.” It was Chloe. She hugged him. “Are you okay?”
“Where is she?”
“Matt took her home.”
His hands balled into fists at his sides. Brendan opened his eyes. “I have to go.”
He snatched his keys and his wallet and his phone, stuffing them into pockets.
Chloe placed her hand on his arm. “Bren. Wait.” She pointed to his chest. “Let me bandage that.”
He silently nodded.
“I know you want to, Brendan, but don’t go over there now,” Chloe advised him as she wrapped him in gauze. “Katie needs time to…to think, and you need time to get your head straight and figure out what you’re going to say to her so you don’t make things worse.”
He was going. His head was perfectly straight. Brendan could only imagine what must be going through hers.
Brendan buttoned up his shirt. “You don’t need to figure out what to say when you tell the truth. And that’s what I’m going to do.”
She hugged him again. “I really like her, Brendan.”
Me too.
It was after two in the morning.
Brendan realized it was way too late to be knocking on her door, but he couldn’t let this wait. He’d always planned to be completely transparent and honest with her. About everything. His feelings. His parents. His past. His sexual ideology. The Red Door. All of it.
Baring not just your body and your mind, but your soul. Sharing your secrets and your dreams. Your thoughts and desires. Vulnerability. Acceptance. It was everything, wasn’t it? What was the point of a relationship otherwise?
Trust.
Brendan understood he’d have to work even harder to earn that from her now.
But he would.
He tapped softly on her door.
Footfalls sounded from behind it. “Did you forget your keys, Kelly?” And it opened.
She was beautiful, standing there in an oversized T-shirt. Face devoid of makeup. Hair piled on top of her head in a tumble of messy waves. Her stormy eyes were red-rimmed, so he knew she’d been crying. Because of him. Again. Knowing that was a punch in the gut. Her lips parted, like she was going to say something, but no words came out.
Brendan didn’t hesitate. He pulled her into his arms and held her tightly against him. “I’m so sorry.” He kissed the top of her head. “You’ve got to know that. I’m so fucking sorry.”
Still, she didn’t speak. Her upper lip trembled.
“Can we talk?”
She just shrugged, but she didn’t say no. Katelyn stepped aside to let him in, then she turned around and walked into the loft. He closed the door and followed her. She plopped onto her bed and hugged a pillow to her lap.
“Talk.”
He sat beside her on the bed, pulled the pillow away, and took her hands in his. “What you saw at the club tonight—that wasn’t supposed to happen. It wasn’t planned. I just reacted, and badly.” God, this was more difficult than he thought. “I’m not making excuses, but there’s a lot you don’t understand yet…”
“I understand more than you think.” She pulled her hands out of his grasp. “And it’s not like we’re anything, so you don’t owe me an explanation. I went there tonight because…” She looked up at the ceiling and shook her head. “…because I wanted to see what you do there. I guess I got what I wanted.”
