Page 28 of Headless Hollow

Branson jumped up and practically lifted me off the couch like I was incapable of standing on my own. He’d been nothing but devoted and by my side since that crazy night. Every day that I spent with him, I fell in love with him all over again.

“Where do you want to go,” he asked, and I laid my hand on his chest, giving him a lopsided smile.

“I can walk. You don’t need to follow me around.”

“I know, but I want to. Humor me. It makes me feel less useless,” he whispered, making me laugh.

“Okay. We’ll be back. Just going for a walk, everyone,” I announced, but the house of guests had already begun to talk and eat like I no longer existed.

Linking our fingers, we walked outside and wandered along the path to the garden. He’d worked hard to install the beautiful interlocking stone and massive flower beds since I’d chosen for us to get married here next summer.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it,” I asked as Branson wrapped his arms around my waist.

“Wherever you are is beautiful. You could light up the darkest of rooms and warm the coldest of hearts.”

Heat spread across my cheeks as I blushed. “You are the sweetest.” I sighed and looked up into Branson’s eyes. “I still can’t believe that all that time, it was your brother Brahm. Your mother seems heartbroken.” I shook my head.

Today was the first time I’d seen Mrs. Crane since we found the knife laying on the riverbank and tested it. It surprisingly still had DNA on it and came back as a filial match to Branson. I remembered his brother, but not well. He had always sat in the back of the class, kept to himself, and hardly spoke to anyone, let alone me.

Branson cried for days when he realized he killed his brother. We never found a body, but there was no way for anyone to survive three shots point blank to the chest and the waterfalls that he would’ve gone over. It explained so much, including how he’d easily gotten into Branson’s home. Branson never considered his brother, who was supposed to be living happily in another state.

“She’s slowly accepting it, but it’s going to take time for all of us. Including you,” he said and cupped my cheeks.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. Don’t think I haven’t seen you staring out our window, your brows knit together.”

“What makes you think that I was thinking of that night? I could’ve been thinking of anything,” I countered.

“No, you get a certain look in your eye when you’re remembering him.”

I looked away and stared at my hands on his chest. “Are you really okay not knowing whose baby it is?”

“We’ve been over this.” Branson tipped my chin up and forced me to look into his alluring eyes. “Even before I knew it could be Brahm’s child, I was fine with not knowing. The baby is innocent in everything that happened and needs to be loved just like any other child we have. Mine or not, he is my son.”

“And after everything you still want to call him Brahm?”

“As long as you’re good with it, I do. Despite it all, he was my brother, and I loved him. I just wish that I’d known he was struggling before he went completely off the rails. Maybe I could’ve done something to help him.”

Reaching up, I ran my hand over his cheek. “You’re an amazing man, Branson.”

He gently touched his lips to mine in a soft kiss that lingered when we separated. “Come on, we better get back before they send out the search party.”

By the time everyone was gone, and we cleaned up, I was wiped. As usual Branson could fall asleep at the drop of a hat and was peacefully sleeping while I held him and stared at the wall for over an hour before my eyes became heavy with sleep.

I sighed as Branson held me close, his warmth and hard muscles comforting my restless mind.

As the world started to fade. Branson whispered, “Sleep sweet, Pumpkin. It’s always been you.”

Epilogue

Eight Months Ago

BRAHM

Sitting on my bed, I held the old yearbook open to the picture I’d been drawing hearts around since I first laid eyes on Izzy Van Tassel. She was a work of art, a sculpture carved from flesh and bone, but could’ve been born of heaven and marble, and it would’ve had the same result.

My thumb ran over her face, and I closed my eyes, picturing her soft skin under my fingertips. I’d waited years for the moment to make my move, and the time had finally come. Standing from the bed, I walked to the wall that was covered in photos of Izzy. I’d been following her since we were tweens, and in all that time, she never noticed me. Not once did she lock eyes with me or smile. I was a ghost, a thing, and I might as well have walked around with no head for all it did to try and get her attention.