Running in the Mists: Hearts Drawn Wyld Trilogy: Book 2

2013 by Victoria J. Hyla. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/21/2013

ISBN: 978-1-4772-9662-2 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4772-9666-0 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2012922988

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Thinkstock are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Thinkstock.

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Contents

PART I

Through the Fog

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

PART II

Slow Burn

Into Day

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

PART III

Darkest Before

the Dawn

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Epilogue

To my ever supportive family and friends both near and far and

the fans who made me get this done

PART I

Through the Fog

Chapter 1

Aching. Dizziness. Spinning. Throbbing. Pain. The taste and texture of rancid cotton. Not pleasant. But underneath all the discomfort and disorientation was warmth, softness, pillow, sheets. Good. At least there was that.

Brianna lifted her hand to her temple and tried to rub away the pressure that was insistently squeezing her head from both sides. Relief came for a moment, but it didn’t last. Why did she feel this way, like she’d been hit by a truck? Was she ill? She didn’t think so; no cough, no stuffed-up sinuses.

Sighing against the pain in her head, Brianna lowered her hand back to the bed, expecting to feel it touch the fabric of the pillow under her head. Instead, her hand met skin; warm, smooth skin. For a moment, she didn’t think anything of it, but as she lay there, trying and failing to make the world stop spinning, she flexed her other hand and realized desperately, That is not my arm!

Her eyes flew wide, which resulted in another agonizing, nauseating stab of pain in her already pounding skull. As she waited until the worst of the sensations had lessened, she wondered how there could be room enough for all this pain in such a small space. Slowly, she opened her eyes again and coaxed them into adjusting to the blinding light of early morning that painfully assaulted her. As she tried to look around, the room swam before her eyes as though everything were underwater. Something about the light in the room or the color of the walls seemed off to her, but she didn’t have much time to analyze that before her eyes focused on something nearer. Wavering immediately in front of her face was a hand—a large, rough, clearly male hand.

Before she could dwell on or even slightly process the possible identity of the hand’s owner, Brianna heard a soft, manly, sleep-filled grunt close to her ear. With it, she registered for the first time the presence of a strong arm around her midsection coupled with the warmth of a body at her back. Her eyes grew even wider, and despite the dizzying vertigo assaulting her senses, they darted madly around the visible half of the room. This is not my room, and this is not my bed, she observed with a bizarre sense of detachment then thought with a bit more clarity, This is most certainly not my own arm wrapped around me.

Brianna weathered another wave of nausea brought on by the erratic eye movement and that realization, her rapidly racing mind doing nothing to help her dazed perceptions. Who is this behind me? Why is he holding me like this? She glanced down as much as she could in her current position. Why am I only in my bra?

Her heart racing, she looked back up at the room and tried to take in the details. The walls were a light blue. She noticed a small replica of what looked like a football stadium on top of a light brown dresser. An orange t-shirt lay on a chair under the window, which sported a stained-glass panel in the prairie style of Frank Lloyd Wright. She also noticed hanging from the door of the slightly ajar closet was a shoulder holster with a gun in it.

Brianna relaxed marginally and exhaled softly. Ben. This room looked like it was probably Ben’s. With that mystery solved, she began to let her swirling head lure her back into comfortable oblivion, but as she began drifting off, she felt the arm around her tighten. With it, all the rest of the unknowns came flooding back into her consciousness. She stiffened, staring hard at the rippling wall in front of her.

Ben was certainly not the worst-case scenario, but why was she in bed with him, half naked, and unable to see straight? What had she done? What had they done? She racked her memory and could not pull up exactly how she had gotten partially undressed and in the bed and arms of… a moment of doubt assailed her. She hoped she was right that it was Ben. She’d never been in his bedroom before. Maybe she was making the wrong assumption.

Even through the thudding in her skull, Brianna knew she needed an answer to at least that much before she completely panicked. Through the fogginess and throbbing in her head, Brianna willed herself to move, slowly pulling away from the arm. Fortunately, her movements didn’t wake him. Instead, she heard him turn over onto his other side and fall back asleep, leaving her free to turn and look at the man next to her.

She audibly sighed in relief as she looked over and did indeed find Ben in the bed. He was shirtless, but she could see below the thin sheet that he still wore his pants. Her gaze returned to his back now facing her, and she fleetingly felt her heart flutter in appreciation of its strength and his broad shoulders. She pushed herself up into a sitting position and folded her legs under her, noting with relief that she was still wearing her pants as well although they were unbuttoned, which she quickly remedied.

It appeared as if they hadn’t had sex, but that still didn’t explain her current situation. Brianna stretched her neck and ruffled her hair to try to relieve some tension then rested her elbows on her knees, again massaging her temples, simultaneously trying to ease some of the pain and stir her memories of the events leading up to this morning.

Gathering the sheet up under her arms, she fought off yet another wave of dizziness and its partner-in-crime nausea and placed a hand over her mouth. Why don’t I have a shirt on? What the hell did I do? What did we do? Why am I here? There were flashes slowly coming back to her: a party for Ben’s birthday, several cups of something sweet, stairs, but it was all so jumbled that she wasn’t completely sure if the memories were real or imagined.

Brianna brought her hand to her forehead and found several beads of sweat forming on it. She needed to piece this together, to figure it out. She thought desperately back to when this all had started again: the first day she’d seen Ben since her world, her life, her love had been thrown into disarray for the second time. Was this to be the third?

Chapter 2

Brianna!

Brianna Wylder turned at her name, her long red hair flowing after her as she searched for the caller. Denise O’Bannion, her best friend since grade school, came running up across the parking lot with her dark curls bouncing all around her as Brianna exited Kresge Hall, the art building at Northwestern University. Denise wore her typical smile from ear to ear, and Brianna greeted her casually. Hey, girl. You done for the week?

Yeah, last class just got out. You?

Just turned in a big project, Brianna answered with a tired nod. It was the end of the second trimester, but it already had been a long year. She had returned from her summer stay in New Mexico an even more battered shell of herself than when she’d gone. After losing Matt, she had come back to Chicago feeling not much more than a ghost. Simply to stave off the emptiness and try to keep her head above the waterline of full-fledged depression, she had thrown herself blindly into her schoolwork.

Only within the last month or so had Brianna begun to regain some semblance of normalcy and calm. She knew she’d simply been going through the motions with her friends all school year—at least until she had returned to Santa Fe over the winter break to face some demons and say a real goodbye to the man she had loved. While there, she had gone to Matt’s cabin and found his journal and his grave.

Even today she held the journal in her hands. It had become a source of comfort, both physically and emotionally. Having his words to read had made her feel like somehow he was still close to her, so the healing had been marginally better this spring with at least that little part of him by her side.

As the snow had melted and the world had been reborn, in a way she had a little bit as well. Even so, she’d not reached out and met any new people during her freshman year of college, having made the decision to live at home in her large, empty house and commute north to campus every day on the train.

So, what are you up to now? Brianna asked her friend quietly. With the weight of her final project removed from her shoulders, she finally thought she felt relaxed enough to allow herself some much needed and deserved amusement.

Well, Denise hedged, looking around her, um…. actually I have to… um…

Denise was obviously stalling, and Brianna gave her a playful glare. What are you up to?

Oh, nothing, she lied poorly, smiling an overly goofy grin.

A moment later, they heard the roar of a motorcycle, and Denise suddenly went into motion, mumbling something quickly about having to go do some research at the library, but she’d call her later.

As Denise walked past Brianna, the red-haired girl turned in confusion to remind Denise that the trimester was over, and even so she was headed in the wrong direction, and froze. The aforenoticed motorcycle had come to a stop along the curb right behind her. Her eyes found a man with short blond hair and a familiar face behind a pair of shiny aviator sunglasses. Brianna simply stared at him with an open mouth.

With a shy smile and a guilty shrug, he took off the sunglasses and apologized, Don’t be mad at Denise. I made her tell me where you’d be.

At that, Brianna finally regained her senses. Who said I was mad at her? she countered with a weak but not unfriendly smile. Stepping toward the curb, Brianna pushed a lock of her long red hair behind her ear and looked up at the motorcyclist. How are you, Ben?

She had not seen or heard from Ben Davis for more than six months. Last year when her parents had died in a car accident, he had stayed with her after her meltdown upon hearing the startling news. In the few weeks following, she and Ben had become very close while he’d helped her get through the worst of it, but they had parted ways when she had been sent off to New Mexico to stay with her aunt and uncle, her legal guardians, until she’d turned 18 in August.

He smiled openly at her better-than-expected reception, relief evident in his voice, I’m good… good. Slightly flustered, he said with a weak laugh and a smile, Already said that. Um, work’s work, but I just got a promotion.

Congratulations, she said with a weary but truly honest smile.

Yeah, he said with embarrassment but a little pride as he continued. One of the youngest ever to make detective in the history of the CPD. I kind of threw myself into it after…. He didn’t need to finish.

They hadn’t parted on the best of terms. At the end of the summer, Ben had driven all the way to New Mexico to celebrate her birthday with her only to find that she’d fallen completely in love with an intense, brooding cowboy: Matt Brennan. Ben and Matt had not liked each other immediately, for obvious reasons. Eventually, Brianna had made her choice crystal clear when she’d shown up wearing an engagement ring. Abruptly, Ben had left her to her decision, hurt and hating, but also somewhat understanding, her reasons.

Obviously her choice really had affected Ben, which she’d realized more and more in the months of self-imposed solitude and silence that had followed. She hadn’t set out to hurt him. Before she’d gone to New Mexico, they hadn’t made any kind of formal commitment or pledge to each other, but since the heart doesn’t exactly play by any manmade rules, she had inevitably hurt him with her decision to follow the path her heart had drawn for her.

Sadly, that path had been cut short when her heart had been crushed in a moment just beyond eight seconds.

Yeah, me too, she rejoined suddenly to stop the flow of her thoughts, not sure how long the silence had been. Made the dean’s list and everything last term, she said with slight mock pride for which he innocuously congratulated her in return.

A silence descended upon them, but strangely it didn’t feel all that uncomfortable. Brianna took the opportunity to look fully at Ben for a moment. His eyes twinkled at her almost like they used to before… but there was a shadow of something a little darker that he seemed to be trying to hide from her. Brianna looked down, suddenly needing to not look him in the eye, and her gaze instead traveled the length of his body. He looked the biker part… almost. He wore a black leather jacket with assorted buckles and zippers, faded jeans, and large black boots with more buckles. If not for his short haircut, clean-shaven face, and absence of any visible tattoos, one might never guess the side of the law he was really on.

After a long moment, she observed honestly, You look good.

So do you, he returned almost too quickly, blushing slightly at her perusal.

The air between them seemed to subtly thicken with mounting tension. There was a lot that had been left unspoken between them—what they’d both been through together and apart, what they’d said to each other the last time they had spoken, and what they really felt, both about all that had happened and about each other.

Where could—should—they start? What did he expect from her? And moreover, what did or could she expect from him? Could they go back to how it was once upon a very different and distant time, or would they forever be strained and overshadowed by what had passed? What should she or could she even tell him about what had happened to Matt? What would his reaction be? Glad? Sad? At all sympathetic? Truly, she wasn’t even sure what she wanted to hear.

At last Ben broke the silence, reaching eerily into her thoughts with a somber note, his eyes downcast, I heard what happened to Matt.

Her eyes flew to his face in surprise, not expecting him to have heard, but as realization dawned on her, she nodded and muttered almost laughingly, Denise.

Ben smiled sheepishly. She told me when I ran into her a few weeks ago.

Hmm, a few weeks ago, she wondered silently, but he was continuing, his tone again serious. "Listen. I don’t know if you’ll believe me… but I am really sorry about it. I… I learned he was a good man."

When he met her eyes, Brianna saw the truth behind his words. She knew the two men had made their peace for the most part, and there had been no ill wishes—until Ben had seen the ring on her finger. It had only been her mother’s ring, but the intention and meaning behind her wearing it had been clear. And so Ben had left.

After nursing the sting of that wound, Brianna happily had started her new life, going to watch Matt ride his bull that very night at the rodeo. Then, doing what he loved, the way he needed to live his life, he had been killed, just like that. Almost without a word to anyone, Brianna had sped back to Chicago alone and truly hollow.

She looked down with a sad smile and quietly managed through a thickness gathering in her throat, Thank you. That means more than you know.

As she finished, her eyes returned to his. Tense silence threatened to invade them again as she blinked back some moisture in her eyes. Not wanting to feel a new flow of tears right now in front of him, Brianna desperately looked around for a change of topic. Looking down at his motorcycle, she offered, Nice ride.

Glad for the diversion of something less personally emotional, Ben sat up straight in the seat and gripped the handlebars. Like it? Just a hobby, he shrugged.

Expensive hobby, she teased a little, lightly pulling at the sleeve of his leather jacket. With all the studly little accoutrements, you almost look like a full-out thug.

Yeah, well, just trying to counterbalance the day job. Ben paused, his smile lingering as he looked at her, soaking in the glimmer of their old banter. Hey, he began again, brightening abruptly, his tone hopeful. You wanna go get a cup of coffee and catch up a bit instead of just standing here on the street? There’s this place in Ravenswood I’ve been wanting to check out, and that’s kind of on your way home.

Brianna hesitated and actually took a small step back. Ben, she started weakly, trying to decide what she felt and what she wanted to say.

Brianna, he countered. As he said her name, she felt it reverberate through her and was rendered silent, but her eyes went to his face. It’s just coffee. I promise.

After a moment, she smiled at his quick and correct assessment. Still, both of them knew it wasn’t that simple. She looked down, trying to gather her thoughts. Before Brianna could try to turn her feelings into words, he did it for her.

I know what you’re thinking; and no, I’m not suggesting anything more than coffee… except maybe picking up our friendship again. Ben paused, seeing she still looked a little uncertain. Bree, look at me. She did, and he continued slowly. "You know and I know that you’re not ready. I promise you, above everything else, I’m going to respect that… but I’ve been missing my best friend."

Ben left it at that, and Brianna smiled to herself. Best friend. That was one of the last things she’d said to him before he’d left New Mexico: I feel like I’m losing my best friend. She knew at her core that he wasn’t playing her or messing with her to get back at her for what she had done. That wasn’t him.

She looked down at the leather-bound book in her hands—Matt’s journal. She’d read it through countless times; almost knew it by heart. The softness of the leather against her fingers had given her strength. He had told her with his last few breaths that he wanted her to move on. His words, his thoughts, had helped her come to that precipice. Thus far, she’d only been taking in the view, still resisting jumping off that edge into the deep canyon of the unknown and taking a chance on a new life. Maybe this was her chance, her opportunity to take that last leap and heal even further.

You driving? she asked suddenly, looking up only after the words were out.

Ben’s eyes brightened and he smiled, playfully offering the steerage of the bike to her. Unless you want to.

A genuine smile grew slightly on Brianna’s lips as she asked, Is it anything like riding a horse?

Ben immediately caught the reference and knew what she meant. He shared her smile at the memory of a different time, a different place, a different life. He replied without missing a beat, No, not really. Get on.

Alex Hanold 2013

Chapter 3

Brianna clung to Ben’s leather jacket as they rode quickly—but notably without speeding—down this street and that toward their destination. The spring air was still rather chilly, and the cold wind pierced her light sweater. Reacting to a turn and the cold, Brianna reflexively pressed herself closer to Ben. If he noticed, he didn’t react to it. As she repositioned herself, she noticed that she could slightly feel his body heat where their legs pressed together. Shivering, she knew it wasn’t nearly enough to warm her up so she was looking forward to the cozy comfort of the promised coffee.

At last Ben slowed the motorcycle and brought it to a stop along a side street near the looming tracks of the El. In fact, she noticed fleetingly, it was the very same line she took to and from Northwestern every day. As the roar of the motorcycle cut off, Ben kicked out the stand and helped her off from behind him. He looked back at her with an amused smile as he swung himself off the bike.

For a moment, Brianna wondered what exactly he was smiling about until he said, Guess it’s a tad big on you.

Ben had given her his helmet to wear. She flicked up the visor, and it shifted even more on her head to sit cockeyed. She glanced up at the inside of it before yanking it off her head and sending her hair in random directions. Smoothing her thick hair as much as she could, Brianna handed the helmet back to him, wryly saying, At least you can never say I’m fat-headed.

Not fat anything, Ben said quickly in response, smiling and quickly stealing a glance at her through his eyelashes as he stowed the helmet.

Free of the protective headgear and needing to look anywhere but at him as she blushed, Brianna turned to look behind her at the building. There was something familiar about it, she noted absently as she began following him toward the front. As they rounded the corner, Brianna’s feet simply stopped.

Please tell me—and honestly—that you haven’t been following me, tracking me, tracing me, whatever it is that cops do.

He stopped at her voice and turned toward her, looking at her as though she had a turnip-eating monkey perched on her head. He answered quickly, equal parts defensive and careful, "No, I haven’t been following you. I know you need space. Oh how I know that. Ben rolled his eyes in emphasis and ran a hand through his hair to refocus. Honestly, I just—this is the first time—wait, what are you talking about?" he eventually managed to sputter out in a nervous, confused breath.

You didn’t say it was No Exit, she said incredulously, pointing to the sign on above the café’s front window, but checked herself slightly when Ben continued with his hands up in surrender.

Sorry, I didn’t remember the name. I’ve never been here before.

Taking a moment to assess his actual reaction instead of her emotional assumptions, Brianna realized suddenly how she must sound to him. In a few seconds, she had constructed a very tense wall between them. She also knew that only she could fix it. Slowly lowering her hand, she cracked a sheepish smile at her ridiculous overreaction. That was all it took to make him smile back and begin to let the tension slip out of his body. She looked down, embarrassed by her reaction and half hid her face with her hands.

I’m sorry. God, why do I have to be such a mega freak? she asked herself aloud, turning slightly away from him and thrusting her hands through her mass of red hair. After a moment, she realized he was waiting in confusion for an explanation. It’s just that I come here all the time. I come into Ravenswood on the El to catch the Metra line. That’s my El station right there. Brianna gestured overhead at the tracks directly across the alley from the storefront. Flustered by her rudeness, Brianna felt compelled to continue her explanation and justification of her actions. "It’s just… I’ve been riding this line all year to get to and from school and home. I saw this place from the platform when I was waiting one day this winter and decided to check it out. I’ve been coming here ever since at least three times a week."

I’m sorry? he started questioningly, still trying to figure out exactly why she had a problem with the place if she came here all the time. He shook his head to clear it. Brianna, I honestly had no idea. I’ve never been here before. I live just a couple of blocks north, and I pass by it all the time. Just thought it’d be neat to check out. Come to think of it, I actually saw it in some ’80s movie once—

Jimmy Reardon, she supplied for him. "A Night in the Life of Jimmy Reardon. Yeah, I’ve seen it, too. They still do poetry slams here sometimes."

Would you rather we go somewhere else? he offered with a sweeping gesture and a step back toward the bike.

Brianna hesitated slightly. She loved that this place was hers alone; she hadn’t even told Denise about it. But in the end, she realized she was being a bit ridiculous. No. No, it’s okay, she began, fidgeting nervously and shifting her weight repeatedly as she glanced at the window, which looked opaque from where they stood. She shrugged. "No. We’re already here, and it is a great place. It’s just a funny coincidence you picked it. No big."

Ever the peacemaker, Ben offered, taking another step away from the café. Only if you’re sure. I don’t mind. If it makes you uncomfortable for some reason—

Stop! she interrupted with a slight laugh, reaching forward and lightly grabbing both of Ben’s sleeves to stop his backpedal. Ben then smiled with amusement at both of them, and she returned it in full. Come on, she said, dropping her hands and turning with him toward the café.

As soon as they entered, a middle-aged woman behind the counter who was dressed in flowing Bohemian clothing looked up and smiled brightly at them, waving as she finished preparing a drink for a customer. Brianna smiled back almost shyly and busied herself with looking at the menu boards she knew by heart.

Brianna, darling, the woman welcomed warmly across the counter after handing the drink to the customer. She stepped around the end of the counter and pulled Brianna into a brief but warm hug. "It’s been a while, my dear. We have missed you. Our walls have missed you," she finished with a sweeping gesture.

Brianna ducked her head and answered, Hi Magda. Sorry, I’ve been busy with schoolwork. She flicked her gaze briefly at Ben who was looking down at her curiously, amused by the familiarity of the exchange.

The short, older woman did not miss Brianna and Ben’s exchanged look and turned her curious gaze to Ben, unabashedly looking him up and down with evident admiration. You sure it was only school that kept you away? she questioned, peering at Ben over the top of her glasses.

Brianna’s eyes quickly snapped to the woman. What? But then she realized Magda meant Ben and felt the blood rush to her face. Oh. No, really, big project for a class.

Magda looked at her pointedly with a raised eyebrow then nearly brushed her aside to focus on Ben, almost regally extending her hand in his direction. And who would this be? she asked Brianna over her shoulder.

Brianna sighed and gave Ben a shrug, silently apologizing for Magda’s mothering and forward behavior. This is Ben, she began, hunting for a way to describe him because if she didn’t, she knew Magda would ask. An old friend, she finished. It was the first thing she could come up with. It wasn’t false, but she didn’t exactly want to go into the details of their history with Magda right then and there.

The older woman smiled indulgently at Ben, her eyes still conveying curiosity about the rest of the story, but she was willing to let Brianna share what she wanted. "Well, Old-Friend Ben. I apologize for my curiosity, but I just have never seen our little artist in here with any friends. I am very pleased to meet you."

Brianna didn’t miss Magda’s emphasis on friends and neither did Ben. She continued with a playful warning, You take good care of my little Bree.

Brianna gasped a little, surprised Magda would go that far.

Ben, still wearing an expression of perfectly good humor, responded easily, I always try… when she’ll let me. Brianna quickly glanced up at him, but couldn’t help blushing and had to look away. Magda’s eyebrow raised further, and she looked pointedly at Brianna who was avidly reading the menu board to focus on something other than the conversation.

Magda playfully tweaked Brianna’s chin as she walked back behind the counter. Don’t even pretend, my darling. You always get the same thing: regular coffee with almond cream. I know it like nothing else, she finished, throwing her hands up in mock annoyance.

Actually, Brianna said suddenly with a smirk on her face, I was thinking of trying something different today.

Magda couldn’t help smiling and darted her gaze to Ben quickly before focusing on Brianna again. That’s a nice, surprising change. Anything you want, my dear.

After a few moments, Brianna suggested, How about an Irish cream-coconut latte?

That’s a bit saucy! Magda said with a gleaming smile. I like it. And for you, Old-Friend Ben? she asked, continuing the use of Brianna’s descriptor.

Make it two. That sounds interesting.

Brianna reached into her bag for her wallet, and Ben went for his pocket, but they were both met by a snapping denial. Nope. Your money is not good here today. It’s on the house.

Thanking Magda, Brianna couldn’t help smiling as she and Ben turned from the counter. Before they walked away, Magda reached across the counter and patted Brianna’s hand, saying in a not-so-low, conspiratorial tone, I like him. With that, she winked at Brianna, which made Brianna blush yet again. At this rate, she thought the constant rush of blood was going to make her pass out shortly. They went and sat down in a corner booth filled with plump cushions.

Comfy, Ben observed as he shrugged off his jacket and sat back in the booth.

Yeah, she said wistfully. It’s like home, just not so quiet. It’s too quiet there a lot.

Why didn’t you move into the dorms? Ben asked casually.

Brianna thought for a moment. I guess I just wasn’t ready to be around that many new people all of the time. Too much introduction, too much rehashing stuff I don’t really want to talk about, evading questions I don’t want to answer.

Ben nodded. He understood, better than most people, she admitted to herself. That was something for which she found herself suddenly very grateful. They drifted into a moment of silence that was broken by the bubbly Magda coming up to their table with their coffees and smiling brightly at Ben then suggestively at Brianna. Abruptly she turned to Ben, So, what do you do?

Brianna rolled her eyes and was about to protest, but Ben answered freely, I’m a junior detective for the Chicago Police Department.

Magda smiled and looked him over. Fascinating. That’s a good job. Interesting… and what are your intentions with my Brianna here?

Magda! Brianna gasped. Stop it. Please! Her face was turning even brighter red, and she stared daggers at the woman.

Magda turned to Brianna, placing her hand briefly against Brianna’s reddened cheek. I’m sorry, my dear, but I care about you. I’m excited to finally see you in here with a young man, but I need to make sure he’s a good seed. She turned back to Ben and kept going, So sad, this one, yet so young. So, your intentions?

Brianna remained beet red, far surpassing the shade of her hair. She struggled to find something to say to deflect the inquiry, finally shrugging and looking apologetically at Ben. You don’t need to answer that, really.

No, it’s okay, he assured her then turned to Magda. Brianna and I are just good, old friends, he began in a pleasant, easy tone. We haven’t seen each other in a while, and it’s time we did some catching up. And, my intentions, he added, pausing to look at Brianna’s bent head, are to make sure she’s happy. Whatever it takes to get her there.

As Ben finished, Brianna peeked up at him, watching him as he looked at Magda with complete seriousness in his face and his voice. Her face would have grown even redder if it were possible. When he was finished, she turned to look at Magda whose smile was pleasant, and she had her hand to her chest.

Feeling a little uncomfortable but glad Magda seemed to approve, Brianna took a trial sip of her steaming beverage before asking, still slightly annoyed, Happy now?

After another moment of simply smiling, Magda replied, Ecstatic! Theatrically so Ben could obviously hear, she whispered to Brianna as she turned to go, He’s a keeper.

When the woman had walked away, Brianna and Ben sat for a moment in uncomfortable silence then, catching each other’s eyes, burst out in quiet laughter.

I’m so sorry, Brianna said under her breath. She loves to meddle.

Don’t be. It’s sweet that she cares, meddles, whatever, he said, eliciting another laugh from Brianna.

She’s been hounding me about being alone for quite some time now. Even tried to set me up with a few of the regulars until I told her I just wasn’t interested. Again, silence ensued, but surprisingly it was not completely uncomfortable, and the smile never quite left her face. It’s good to see you again, she said tentatively, peering shyly at him over her cup as she blew to cool it off more.

I’m glad, Ben said matter of fact. It’s good to see you again, too.

Brianna looked at him quizzically, voicing aloud her thought before she could talk herself out of it. I wasn’t entirely sure you’d want to.

Ben sighed, looking down into his cup and taking a sip. As he put the cup back down, he said, To be honest, I didn’t for a long time. His voice was serious, low, and measured. I can’t say the drive home was the most fun road trip I’ve ever had.

Brianna felt a surprise pang of hurt for a moment, but he was right. She hadn’t given him much reason to want to still be around her, let alone give her another chance. She felt he wanted her to ask more about his trip home, and she wanted to, but she wasn’t sure how to approach that without drudging up more hurt than was necessary.

Eager to brush those imperfect memories under the proverbial rug, she changed the subject abruptly, It’s funny I haven’t run into you before now. After all, you said this was your neighborhood.

Ben let her hijack the topic without any fight, perhaps just as glad to keep the conversation on a more neutral playing field as she was. Well, Ravenswood is my neighborhood, and I come running by here, but that’s generally really early in the morning. Gearing up to start training for the marathon in June.

Oh? Brianna started excitedly. You’re running it? That’s fantastic. I haven’t really had that much time to run lately, what with class and a really big art project that turned out to be incredibly draining emotionally.

Sorry to hear that, Ben commented.

No, it was a good project, and it actually helped me work through some stuff: memories, emotions. It’s helped make me the well-adjusted person you see before you today, she offered sarcastically with mock positivity.

Then it did wonders, Ben said with a serious smile.

Nah, it’s all on the surface. Trust me, she said with a laugh, only partially kidding, but of course Ben knew that. They just smiled at each other. She had to admit that this was the most comfortable she’d been with another person in a long time, but it also was close to opening up some buried emotions she wasn’t sure she wanted to address.

I’ll help you train if you’re interested, Ben offered, breaking into her thoughts.

For the marathon? No, I wouldn’t want to slow you down.

"Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not running it to win it, not that you’d be slowing me down anyway. Last time we ran together, I think I had a hard time keeping up with you."

Brianna laughed. That was then.

Well, Ben said, lifting a hand in concession, I’m not gonna press you, but if you’re interested, I’d like the company even if you don’t run the actual race.

I may just take you up on it, Brianna said with a smile.

Before silence could fall again, Ben’s eyes fixed on a picture on the wall in front of him. That’s a really great drawing.

Brianna turned her head to look at it. It was a portrait of a woman sitting at a table in the coffee shop. Her eyes were darkly ringed with eye makeup smudged from earlier tears and fatigue. She held a cigarette in one hand, forgotten, the ashes long and ready to drop. Her expression showed vacant distress, emptiness, and loneliness mingled with sadness and bitter hatred; all of it evident in the deep lines that furrowed her brow. She was drawn so clearly yet she was also enveloped in deep shadow. Behind her was a band playing in the brightly lit background. Their expressions were entirely opposite the woman’s. The juxtaposition was stark, but realistic and almost photographic.

"It’s really good, Ben repeated, taking a sip. The perspective has so much empathy."

Brianna shrugged, concentrating on her coffee. Magda sometimes puts up the work of some local amateur artists. It’s no big deal.

Ben quickly picked up her tone and looked carefully at the picture again. After a moment, he nodded to himself and smiled. No matter where your art’s displayed, it’s being shown to people so they can appreciate it. You do amazing work, Brianna.

Brianna shrugged, about to say it was nothing and then realized he had figured out the drawing was hers without her telling him. She looked up at him and searched his eyes. He just knew. How—how did you know this was mine? she asked in amazement and flattery.

"Well, something in your voice got me thinking, and I’ve seen your drawings before, remember? Plus, I didn’t make detective by being completely oblivious."

Oh yeah, Brianna realized, blushing again. Magda lets me put some stuff up ’cause she likes me.

I think it’s because it’s really good, Brianna. There he did it again. When he said her name it was refreshing and comforting in the same moment. She greedily waited to hear it again, but he was going on.

Is there any more of your work here?

Smiling shyly, Brianna nodded and got up from the booth, gesturing with her head and tugging on his sleeve when he didn’t immediately get up to follow. They walked to the other side of the café and stopped in front of a portrait of a woman laughing merrily at someone’s joke, perhaps, as she wiped her hands on a dishrag. It was Magda, Ben noticed, beautifully depicted in an almost ethereal, mother-like way, her long dark hair braided and pulled in front of her right shoulder as it was today.

This is Magda’s favorite, Brianna said loudly over her shoulder so Magda, who was bussing a nearby table, could hear her.

Well, you did get my best side, the woman said with a smile, coming to stand next to them. But it’s not my favorite. At a questioning glance from Brianna, she answered. My favorites are the ones you won’t let me have to put up. It’s a shame to hide such a talent from the world.

Magda, those ones aren’t any good. They’re just private doodles and stuff. Nothing anybody wants to see.

With hands on her hips, Magda looked down her nose at Brianna warmly. Maybe someday you’ll let everybody else see. They’re really very good, she said to Ben, but she’s stubborn, this one. It was pulling teeth to get the few I have up.

Laughing slightly but with obvious seriousness in her tone, Brianna said, I don’t think I can open up that part of me to the public just yet. Although not harsh, something in her voice announced that the subject was closed.

Ben took up the reins and began to steer them back toward their seats, saying, Not until you want then. Some things are better off private, right?

Brianna nodded, grateful that he understood. Magda smiled to herself and let it drop, gripping Brianna’s shoulder briefly in camaraderie before turning back to her work. Ben and Brianna sat back down again in comfortable silence, even though so much was still left unsaid.

She wanted to continue lightly, so she returned to basic conversation. You live by yourself?

No, actually. I’ve got a roommate. Buddy from college.

Illinois, right?

Yeah. Orange and Blue, through and through, he echoed the familiar school mantra.

Hey now, or I’ll do a Wildcat growl at you, she teased with a smile, trying to show Big Ten spirit for her own school.

He laughed and put up his hands in surrender. We’ll just see about that come next football season.

Why’d you come back up here to the city? she asked, picking up her coffee.

Have you seen the amount of corn down there? Ben answered with a playful laugh. Nah, really, just felt I could do more up here. Lots more crime and all, and I like the city. It’s so weird you’ve been coming here for a few months, and I’ve never bumped into you on the street ever.

Brianna laughed at his sudden topic shift. Yeah, it is.

He was trying to put her at ease again. She knew for certain now that he’d been telling the truth about not following her, but she still felt a bit strange sharing this place with someone. It had been her place. None of her friends knew about it. She had just used it to come and think, to be alone but still be among the noise of people. She liked to come and draw them; it made her feel connected without really having to get too personal. In a way, it had been therapeutic.

But now Brianna wondered if Ben would come here all the time to run into her, or, knowing that he lived so close, would she be unable to stop wondering if he’d drop by? Did any of that bother her? She wasn’t sure.

Brianna had actually thought about him quite a bit since she’d been back. She’d even picked up the phone to call him more than once, but she hadn’t been able to push the buttons; never sure what she’d want to say or want from him or moreso how he’d act around her.

Now at least she knew the latter. He seemed to want it to be like old times, before their first good-bye kiss and before New Mexico. Whatever it was, the relief was immense at not having to explain about her parents or why she was sad all the time like she’d had to do with the few new people she’d met since last summer. At least it didn’t bother her that much to talk about it anymore.

What still was hard was when someone asked if she had a boyfriend. If it was a guy doing the asking, she’d run away—if not literally, emotionally she’d shut off and just ignore him awkwardly until he got the hint and went away. If it were a girl, she’d just ask not to talk about it. But Ben knew all of that already; he knew everything. There was a comfort in that to be sure.

Can I ask you something? Ben broke suddenly into her thoughts. Brianna nodded as she took a sip of the warm liquid. Ben paused for a moment as if trying to choose the right words then asked, Why didn’t you call me?

Brianna sat back in the booth. Where should I start? she began, looking at the table then flicking her gaze up to his eyes. Ben’s eyes dropped to his coffee cup, and he frowned. Brianna noticed his reaction. No, she said apologetically. I don’t mean… she sighed audibly, trying to start again. Taking a deep breath, she gave it a go. "For a long time, I could barely speak to anyone about it, even Denise really. I wouldn’t have blamed her if she had given up on me, too. And I guess after a while, I convinced myself you wouldn’t want to talk to me. I mean, when you left, I didn’t exactly get the impression you wanted much to do with me