“Are you blaming me for the Austins’ mess?”
“I don’t care who dies.”
Hannah withdrew her hand from Bryson’s grip, meeting his gaze at last.
There was a faint grin on her lips. “I just don’t want you getting tangled in this mess.”
Bryson’s icy stare softened a tad, though he was clearly irked, scoffing, “Are you doubting me now? What’s left to say?”
“Quit with the moping,” Hannah chided, feeling at a loss with Bryson.
Even his shrink couldn’t crack him!
His unpredictability always threw her for a loop, making it a real head-scratcher to figure him out.
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“Do you remember that family bash? You stirred up quite the storm. Did I ever throw shade at you for it?”
Their bond had become more fragile after that debacle.
Despite their trust, there were mysteries they couldn’t unravel, holding them back from progress.
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In the end, Hannah caved first, sighing. “Okay, my bad. I shouldn’t have grilled you like that, let alone doubted you because of history. I get you’re freaked that doing this could put a bullseye on us from the other families.”
Bryson reassured, “If I’d really done it, I wouldn’t keep it under wraps.”
Indeed, she had been confused.
Hannah massaged her temples, feeling the ache throb, slumping wearily against the sofa, eyelids drooping shut. “I’m just wiped out.”
Out of the blue, a shadow loomed over her.
Hannah’s eyes snapped open, finding Bryson’s handsome mug in front of her.
“You…”
Bryson gently touched her forehead, his voice smooth but a tad softer.
“ALL good, there’s no fever.”
“I’m tougher than that.”
Hannah chuckled, swatting Bryson’s hand away.
Bryson slid in a tease. “With all the chaos, I am just looking out for you.”
As the tension eased, a knock interrupted.