Summary: Coming home is never easy, but, as Brian soon discovers, it’s deadlier than he’d expected. Someone is brutally murdering young women, and the trail of evidence leads straight to him…
Categories: Fanfiction > Backstreet Boys Characters: Brian
Genres: Alternate Universe, Drama, Suspense
Warnings: Death
Challenges:
Series: None
Chapters: 9 Completed: No
Word count: 20864 Read: 15218
Published: 02/02/07 Updated: 01/05/08
1. Prologue by starbeamz2
2. Chapter 1 by starbeamz2
3. Chapter 2 by starbeamz2
4. Chapter 3 by starbeamz2
5. Chapter 4 by starbeamz2
6. Chapter 5 by starbeamz2
7. Chapter 6 by starbeamz2
8. Chapter 7 by starbeamz2
9. Chapter 8 by starbeamz2
Author's Notes:
Okay...Since I've given up on Remember the Music (for the time being), I've started this story. It may not be what you've read before and you may be hesitant about reading it, but try it anyway. I'd love any and all feedback! Enjoy!
There are places in the world that are held sacred by different people. Some are religiously sacred, others because they are imbued with special meaning for a select few. No matter what this place is or where it stands, there is a fantastical quality to it for those who venerate it. A house, a statue, a tomb, a tree, even a natural wonder become sacrosanct when anyone attaches such a meaning to them.
Amidst the forests of central Maine, a group of Victorian-era structures have stood for two centuries, unchanged. Thousands have lived in, wept in, studied in, and walked in their hallowed halls. Loves were found, lives were unalterably affected, and, in one memorable case, life was lost. They say the young man’s ghost wanders the halls, still mourning the failures that caused him to take his own life.
Books are in abundance throughout the rooms and shelves. They are held reverently and special care is given to first editions and ancient leather-bound texts. These volumes have seen the passage of men and women from all walks of life with varying interests, and they will continue to observe the annual transitions.
In such a place, conflict is difficult to find as everyone is on a quest for the same goal. Men and women work together to discover the meanings of their very lives within the pages of enormous texts and, upon their departure from this venerated corner of the world, go on to find their niches in society.
Even in the most sacred of spaces, though, darkness still creeps. It hides in the eaves of these majestic buildings, stalks in the leafy woods, and lurks within the blackest of hearts. It waits. It watches. And when they least expect it, it will pounce.
But, for now, it stays in the shadows.
This is a sacred place for seekers of truth. This is a resting-place for the dreamers. This is a haven for the explorers.
This is Hensley.
He wasn’t quite sure why he was doing it. Even as he navigated his way north with his belongings stowed into the back of his enormous SUV, he asked himself, again, if this was the right thing to do. And his heart, disagreeing with his head, said yes with such finality and such fervor that he knew it was the best choice he could have made.
Teaching was what he’d been born to do, and a life and career in the spotlight hadn’t dimmed his passion for imbuing others with knowledge. He was going back to where he’d truly begun to live, to breathe, to feel, and think. It was where he’d fallen in love for the one and only time in his life.
It was home.
Most people thought he was crazy for going back to take up the position in the music department of his alma mater. Most people didn’t realize his love for Hensley College.
He remembered the first time he’d seen it. It had been the summer between his junior and senior years of high school, and he’d been so excited to travel New England to find the college he would one day attend. His parents had piled him and his younger sister, Emma, into their van and headed north on the interstate. They hadn’t quite understood what it was that was pulling their son to the northern winters of New England, but they’d agreed to support his choice in an institute of higher learning.
After a week of driving around New York, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, they’d driven onto the Hensley College campus, and, stepping out of the car and looking around, everything inside of him had opened up and shouted, “This one!”
Fifteen years later, Hensley was still the first place that popped into his head when he thought of home. The friends he’d made, the things he’d experienced, and the ones he’d grown to love had all had a hand in forming him into who he was today.
His fans looked at him and saw the image he’d created of himself over the past decade. They didn’t see the longing he’d harbored within him. He’d dreamt of standing in front of a class full of students and knowing that they all waited for him to teach them about technique, scales, and theory. There had been so many times throughout his stage career that he’d wished he could just step off the stage and disappear into the hallways and classrooms of a school.
It was where his heart belonged, and, after ten long years, he was going back to it.
He still remembered the conversation he’d had with his family when he’d told them that he’d accepted the teaching position at Hensley.
“Brian, honey, are you sure this is what you want to do?” Jackie Littrell watched her son with apparent concern in her eyes. “I know you trained to be a teacher, and you’ve got your certification, of course. But you’ve been places and done things that most people never get to experience. Are you sure you want to give it all up?”
He was sure. So sure he could feel it bursting out of him. “Mom, I’m not giving anything up. My entertainment career isn’t going to disappear. I’m sure if I want to in five years, I could still get up on a stage and get applause. It’s just not what I want right now.” He leaned over and took her hands in his. “I love singing, but I was born to teach.”
“So no more awards shows, huh?” Emma grinned. “I’m really gonna miss that aspect of your career.”
“They’ll probably still invite me until they figure out I’m not coming back. Not for a while anyway,” he added, a slight smile on his lips. “Besides, you always complained about going.”
Emma swatted him lightly. “Yeah, but then I got to be around those hot celebrities, and none of it mattered.”
Brian grinned. “Well, I’ll let you know if there are any hot professors up at Hensley. Not that I’ll allow you to date them, of course,” he added mischievously.
“I heard Isabella Flynn is a biology professor at Hensley,” his father said quietly.
The champagne flute in his hand wobbled slightly, before Brian caught himself. “I’d heard rumors.”
“She got her doctorate last year,” his mother added. “I ran into Missy Walters a few weeks ago. Missy’s oldest daughter was in your class at Hensley, and she told me that Kelly told her about it.”
“That’s nice.” God, this was the last thing he wanted to talk about. He had no desire to think about Bella. Not today, not any day. Ever.
Emma looped her arm through his and looked over at their mother. “I’m sure Dr. Flynn has a life she’s busy with, Mom. Just like Brian does.”
“Well, of course, she does,” her mother replied. “But I was just saying…”
“So, Bri, where are you going to live up there?” Emma rescued him before he fell into the pit of dark memories.
He smiled at his younger sister, grateful for her interference. “I bought a house last week. I’m going back to Maine. For good.”
“For good?” Jackie’s brows lifted in surprise. “What about Lexington? I thought this was home.”
Brian shook his head. “Home is Hensley. It’s been Hensley since the first day I saw the campus. I love it up there, and I’m going back for good.”
Though she had her reservations, she could see the determination and the confidence in her son’s blue eyes. “Okay, then. I just want whatever’s best for you. If Hensley makes you happy, then that’s where you should be.”
“Your students are going to be very, very lucky,” Harold stated quietly, and Brian looked over at his father, surprised.
“I hope so, Dad.”
So this was it, he thought, as he drove on a highway shaded by enormous leafy oaks and maples in their late summer prime. Maine was its prettiest at this time of the year, and he’d never missed it more.
On the road and stages throughout the world for the last ten years, he’d seen and done more than most others his age had. He’d sung for royalty, for Presidents, and for orphans in an AIDS clinic in Africa. He’d performed for millions of people and sold just as many albums. After six Grammys and a plethora of various other awards, he couldn’t say he wasn’t happy. In fact, he was deliriously so, but he’d also been tired. He knew if he wanted to get on a stage again, he’d receive the same accolades as he already had. But he no longer wanted that lifestyle. Being on the road since he’d graduated from college, he’d never had a chance to experience life the way he’d dreamt of when he was younger.
Now, it was his turn.
His fat, tabby cat stretched and purred in the passenger seat, and Brian reached over to scratch his ears. “That’s right, Gizmo. You just keep sleeping while I do the hard work.” He chuckled when Gizmo yowled a little before closing his eyes again.
Gizmo had been a present from his fans when his first cat had died. They’d sent him sixty-seven kittens until his home had been overflowing with them. After two days of living with his furry roommates, he’d donated them to various orphanages. Except for Gizmo. The kitten had slept, hidden in a nook of Brian’s home and hadn’t appeared for two days. When he had stalked, meowing, into the kitchen, Brian hadn’t been able to give him away, too. So Gizmo had become his partner in crime.
“But I wish you weren’t sleeping, Giz,” he murmured quietly. He needed a companion badly because he needed to keep his thoughts of Hensley from sliding to one thought. One name.
Bella.
In his mind’s eye, he could still see her as she’d been the first time he’d ever seen her. Her curly hair had been tied up with a pencil sticking out of the bun, her gray eyes huge behind the thick, black rims of her glasses. She’d been painfully awkward in the music theory class he had been a TA for during his junior year, and he’d had to spend a great number of hours tutoring the prickly freshman with a passion for biomedicine. Her persistence had intrigued him as he knew music wasn’t really meant for her.
By the end of the first semester, though, her dry wit had hooked him.
Looking back, he could admit that, by the end of that first year, he’d been in love with her. He’d always wanted the type of relationship his parents had and had searched high and low for a woman that would make his heart leap every time he saw her. Bella had had his heart doing somersaults, leaps, and Olympic-style gymnastics.
God, he missed her. It had been ten years, and, though the emptiness he’d felt when he’d read the letter had long since disappeared, there were times when he woke up needing her. He could still remember the gut-wrenching pain he’d felt when he’d found the letter she’d left for him, breaking things off.
There he’d been, about to graduate and go on to record his first album, and she’d pulled the plug on their relationship. It had taken him a year and a half before the numb had faded enough for him to truly begin to enjoy the thrill performing for others gave him.
In all the years since then, with all the women he’d dated, he’d never found another woman he could imagine by his side for the rest of his life. He’d come close, nearly convinced himself Jessica was the one, and then he’d found that she was only with him for the press.
So now, at the age of thirty two, he was starting over. He’d left the stage and everything and everyone that came with it behind. He was going back to who he’d meant to be. Though he was scared as hell about it, he knew it was the right thing for him. Ten years in the spotlight was enough.
Teaching was his passion, so he would teach.
“Everything else,” he murmured aloud in his car, “is second place now.” And he hoped, for his sake, that he could stick to that.
Author's Notes:
Hello again! First off, this story is NOT all romance. I know it might seem that way, but here, at the beginning, it's just filler. The romance won't be the main story after the first five or six chapters...I promise! It's gonna be good and gory (I hope!) Enjoy!
The grapevine was in full swing at Hensley. As professors returned to take up their teaching positions for the new school year, the buzz grew, and rumors spread like wildfire. Everyone spoke of the arrival of Brian Littrell excitedly. The prince of the music world had retired and was to take up a professorial position at the college, and speculation was intense. Some believed he wanted to play at being a teacher, others believed he was coming to Maine to hide a drug addiction. Others just speculated that it was a woman that had driven him to leave the stage. That the break-up with his fiancée had depressed him, and he was using the teaching position as a way of hiding from it all.
And all of that was such bullshit, Isabella Flynn decided as she hurried through the parking lot towards the science building. Anyone who remotely knew Brian Thomas Littrell would know that he loved Hensley. His loyalty was admirable and was probably the key factor in bringing him back. He’d always told her that he wanted to teach at Hensley one day, but she’d never really expected it to happen. Then again, she didn’t know him anymore, and she couldn’t say that she really knew what was going on in his head.
There had been a time when she’d known him inside out. Then, she’d broken his heart. Grounded it to bits and pieces and left him.
She still believed it was the best thing she’d ever done for another person.
Isabella swiped her ID card at the entrance to the building and rushed towards her office. Unlocking it, she practically threw her bag into a chair and, pulling on her lab gear, made her way towards her beloved lab.
The laboratory was her pride and joy. It was her home more nights of the week than not, and she loved her work. She’d fought long and hard for the brand spanking new equipment and used it to the best of its ability.
Her rush to the lab came to a screeching halt when she pushed open the door and found him already seated at a lab table.
“Damn it! How much today?” she asked, making her way over to him.
Dr. Lucas McCall grinned. “If I said an hour, I’d be lying. Don’t worry, it’s not too bad. Only fifteen minutes.”
“You know, it’s your fault I was late,” she muttered as she pulled out her laptop and found her research files. She leaned over his shoulder to see the results he’d pulled up and was currently working on. “Find the cure for cancer yet?”
“Nope. And it wasn’t my fault you couldn’t get your adorable ass out of bed.” He turned his head slightly to brush his lips over hers. “It’s probably my fault for not waking you up, though. You just looked so peaceful. It must’ve been really good, huh?”
She rolled her eyes. “In your dreams. So there was no change?”
He shook his head. “Sorry, Flynn. It’s been three weeks and the only growth I’m seeing is in group A, sections 22 and 34. We have to add compound 51-C to group B today, too. Maybe it’ll do something.”
“Maybe. Or maybe it’s just a dead end.” Isabella scooted back to her workstation and got to work on her notes. Or tried to. For some reason, Brian’s face kept popping up in her head, and she was beginning to get really annoyed. She hadn’t seen the man in years, and he shouldn’t be allowed to do this to her.
When she sighed for the fifth time in two minutes, Lucas glanced over his shoulder at her. He’d known something was off the instant she’d walked in the door. Being her colleague, friend, and lover had given him great insight into the workings of Isabella Flynn, and, at the moment, something was bothering her.
“So, are you going to tell me what’s bugging you? Besides the project,” he added and waited until she met his eyes.
She bit her lip as she wondered how much she could tell her current lover about her old love. “Have you noticed how chatty and excited our fellow professors are?” she finally asked. “I mean, they usually come back to campus all annoyed about having to leave their research projects and teach. This year, though, they are super excited and bubbly. It’s starting to get on my nerves. Fitzgerald actually asked me how I was yesterday, and I didn’t have to hold a gun to his head either,” she added, thinking of the grouchy, elderly man in the chemistry department who usually didn’t have anything to say to her.
“Well, I don’t quite know,” Lucas began, judging how he could play her. “I mean, maybe they are excited to be back.”
She snorted. “And pigs fly.”
“Or,” he continued, “they are all really anxious to see what happens when music’s golden boy, Brian Littrell, shows up to teach here.” When her shoulders stiffened, he thought, Bingo. “Izzie, I’ve heard enough around here to know that you and Brian were quite the couple when you both were here as students. Is it bugging you that he’s going to be around?”
She was silent for a moment. “No. It’s not even a blip on the radar except for when I see the annoying camera crews staked around outside the gates to campus,” she replied. “Good thing we have those gates around all of campus or else we’d have paparazzi stalking through campus.”
“So it doesn’t bother you at all?”
Isabella turned to him and took his hand in hers. “It was ten years ago, and we’ve both moved on. His life doesn’t concern me and who I’m with. It shouldn’t bother you either.”
He nodded and squeezed her hand. “I don’t like seeing you sad, you know.”
“The only thing I’m sad about is the fact that my damn fungus is not growing the way I need it to!” she muttered, frustrated, and desperately tried to change the subject. “I think I’ll go ahead and start on adding the solution to group B.”
And, just like that, he knew the discussion had been tabled. He had no doubt that she was avoiding the Brian issue, but he knew her well enough to know it would irk her if he pressed for more. He wasn’t jealous, not really. He had his Izzie, didn’t he?
Besides, Brian would be in the music building. Their paths would rarely cross, and life would go on.
***
Later, they sat cross-legged on the floor in her office and ate giant sandwiches companionably.
“Okay, points for you,” Isabella conceded. “Not only did you beat me here this morning, you managed to make really great sandwiches for us, too.”
Lucas grinned. “When are you going to start to see, Izzie Flynn, that I am a great catch?” His green eyes sparkled behind the wire-rimmed glasses he wore.
“Well, when you’ve got a head big as the moon, I don’t think I can,” she joked. In truth, she really enjoyed being with Lucas. He understood her and was there whenever she needed him to be. However, for months now, he’d been dropping subtle hints about making their relationship a lasting one. The thought of marriage, she had to admit to herself, was terrifying, and she wasn’t sure she was ready. But she knew she couldn’t hold him off for too long either.
Popping open a can of lemonade for her, Lucas passed it to her and bumped his knee against hers playfully. “So, excited about the annual dinner on Friday night?”
“Ugh. I still don’t understand why all the professors have to get dressed up and go to the country club every year. Why doesn’t President Turner get rid of this silly tradition?” she moaned, thinking of the formal gala the college held at the start of each fall term for the professors. “I already know the other professors. There’s no need to do it every time.”
“Well, this time, there’s a couple new profs, so it’s probably nice for them,” he pointed out. “Just because you’ve done it for three years, doesn’t mean that other people haven’t. Besides, it’ll be fun if we’re together. Dress nice, and we’ll dance and dance and not mingle with the others.”
She smiled at the thought. “Maybe. So, where do you want me to treat you to dinner? After all, counting this morning, you’ve gotten here first eighteen times to my eleven.”
Lucas grinned, thinking of the monthly contest they had to see who could arrive at work before the other. Since she’d lost this month, it was her turn to treat him to a fancy dinner. “How about Christophe’s? It’s fancy, and we haven’t been there since last year.”
“Expensive, isn’t it?” She winced.
“Well, you shouldn’t have slept so late all the time.”
“Fine. You win.” He’d lost the last three months running anyway, so it was only fair. “When do you want to go?”
He tugged on a curl that had fallen out of her messy bun. “I’m free next Wednesday.”
“’Kay. It’s a date,” she added, moving away to find her planner and jot it down. “So, guess what I saw on the way here this morning?”
Lucas gathered up the wrappers and soda cans and tossed them out. “You had time to see something while you sped down 313? It must have been pretty important.”
“Ha ha. Sarcasm is so not appreciated,” she replied, rolling her eyes. “Anyway, the old Bakerfield house had a Sold sign at the front gate.”
“Really?” He was as surprised as she that the majestic home that stood a half-mile from the campus had finally been bought. As gorgeous as it was, no one had ever wanted to buy such a large home that probably required a lot of renovation. But, he knew it had been a dream of Isabella’s to buy the rambling manor with its beautiful towers and enormous solarium. “I’m sorry. I know you wanted to buy it eventually.”
She had. But, “It’s okay. I mean, what would I have done with such a huge place, right? Besides, it was sort of a fairy tale dream for me, so it doesn’t really matter.”
“Aww, don’t you believe in fairy tale endings, Izzie?”
Isabella shrugged. “All that talk about destiny and fate is for dreamers. In reality, there’s no such thing as the happy ever after, sail into the sunset, fairy tale ending.”
“Well, well. More famous last words I have yet to hear.”
At the oh-so-familiar voice with its Southern drawl, her heart leapt into her throat and lodged there as she slowly turned to face the man she hadn’t seen in years. The last man she’d wanted to see. Ever.
“Brian.”
All in all, he had to say he enjoyed being back at Hensley. The campus was still the same as it had always been, with the exception of the new security building near the gates and the large greenhouse behind the science buildings. The instant he’d driven onto it again, he’d let out the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. Everything was so familiar, and he’d seen Hensley in his dreams for the past ten years.
If anyone really knew exactly how emotionally attached he was to his former college, they would’ve laughed and called him crazy. So he’d never really spoken of that love to anyone. Except Isabella Flynn. Of course, that was when they’d known each other inside out. Now, he didn’t really care what she did or didn’t remember about him.
And, Brian decided as he sank onto a plush sofa in his den, if he couldn’t be honest with himself, there were bound to be problems.
He hadn’t meant to see her again. At least, not so soon. He’d been taking a self-guided tour around the campus and, being led by curiosity, had walked into the biology building. He’d heard her voice before he’d seen her. And then, there she’d been.
To say he felt nothing upon seeing her again would be a complete lie. He’d felt a barrage of emotions.
All of them residual, he assured himself. He and Isabella Flynn had nothing more to say to each other, and it was obvious she was happy with her fellow bio professor. Lucas McCall seemed to suit her perfectly. A bio professor probably wouldn’t have been a good fit with a man who lived his life in the public eye, anyway.
Because, even having retired from the spotlight, he was still hounded by the press. They’d found his phone number before he’d had it changed and unlisted. The phone had rung constantly until he’d taken it off the hook. The day he’d moved into the Bakerfield manor, reporters and cameramen had crowded around the gates and tried to take pictures of him.
It never ended, he thought, fixing his tie and straightening the suit jacket he wore. He may have been thousands of miles away from the entertainment industry, but it had still followed him to the woods of Maine. He wondered if he’d ever really be free of it.
Glancing at the clock, he noted he had a few minutes before he was supposed to be at the nearby country club for the professors’ gala. He’d always heard about the gala that the college president traditionally held for all professors at the start of the school year, but he’d never expected to ever be in the position to attend.
“Professor Brian Littrell,” he muttered to himself as he found his keys and stepped onto the porch. The sounds of insects humming filled the night air, and he could smell the sweet scent of the roses growing over the porch railing. “Sounds weird, but I’d better get used to it.”
As he slid into his car and turned the key in the ignition, Brian’s gaze strayed back to his new home. The stately house had been a favorite landmark of his in the past and to find that it was on sale had been a dream come true.
“Home sweet home,” he murmured and, humming to himself, he drove down the curving driveway towards the main road.
***
It was pretty much the coolest thing to meet up with his old professors and find that they were proud of his accomplishments, Brian decided later that night. The instant he’d stepped into the ballroom of the club, his freshman English professor had caught him and talked his ear off about how thrilled she was that he had joined the faculty.
“I listened to your music,” the matronly Professor Elizabeth Harris confessed to him. She was almost the same as she’d been a decade earlier. Except for the streaks of gray in her dark hair. “I can’t say that I’m fond of this new pop music, but it was wonderful hearing your voice. I told everyone I met that I had been your professor. A little ‘I knew him when’ story,” she’d chuckled.
Other professors were nearly the same way, but Professor Fitzgerald out of the chemistry department had simply looked him over and nodded. Remembering that the man had always been rather distant from everyone, Brian had been surprised that he’d even merited a nod.
After dinner had been served and some of his—he supposed he should call them “colleagues” now—had taken to the dance floor with their spouses, Brian slipped out of the large glass doors and onto the terrace by the pools. He’d needed time to adjust, he thought. It was still such a shock to have his life change so completely. This time last year, he’d been performing for a stadium filled with forty thousand Brazilian fans. This year, he was still getting ready to perform—but in a different way.
His fellow professors had accepted him without hesitation, but he was still nervous. He wondered what his students would think of him. Some of them would probably take his class because they were fans, but he worried about what the dedicated music students would see in him. His training had been excellent, and he’d graduated with top honors from the department. And, yet, he worried that it wouldn’t be enough to impress those students who were sure to find him a fraud.
He hoped that they’d give him a chance before dismissing him as a popstar turned wannabe professor.
“You seem to be thinking deep thoughts.”
Her voice startled him out of his troubled imaginings. He’d reached the point where his imagination had his students making fun of him in class, pinning insulting signs to his back.
“I’m not,” Brian replied, remembering himself and bringing his mind back from a pretend future to the very real present.
Isabella merely watched him, one brow raised. Glowing from the light cast by a lantern above her head, he could see the skeptical look in her eyes. “Try lying to someone who can’t tell when you’re bluffing. I know you, Brian, and you’re worried about something. You’ve been all nerves since you walked in the door tonight.”
“You don’t know me,” he shot back, annoyed that she could still read him perfectly. “You don’t know who I am anymore. Just leave it alone.”
“It may have been ten years, and, while I’m just as annoyed to have you here as you are to have me here, we both know that you haven’t changed that much,” she replied.
He shrugged and turned away from her. More than anything, he wanted her to go back inside because he couldn’t be near her. After ten years of being apart, he was beginning to realize that he’d fooled himself into thinking she meant nothing to him. He still had feelings for her, though he wasn’t entirely sure what they were.
“Isabella, I’d really like to be alone,” he finally said after several moments’ silence. “Please.”
She found she wanted to reach out to him and find out what was bothering him, but she also knew he wouldn’t appreciate the gesture. “I came out here for fresh air. Don’t let my presence disturb you from your thinking.”
“I won’t.”
When he continued to study the aquamarine pool, his brow furrowed, she shook her head and moved a few feet away. Same old Brian, she mused. He’d never been one to share his innermost thoughts with anyone unless they tried to pry it out of him with a giant wrench. She’d once been really skilled at doing it, but, now, she found she’d rather not.
Okay, so maybe she was curious. Maybe she wanted to know what had the Prince of Pop nervous enough that he couldn’t be social. Because Brian had always been a busy little social bee in their college years. It was impossible that he’d changed so much that that was no longer the case.
“You’re still here.”
Now, his voice broke her train of thought. “It’s a free country,” she answered, noting the annoyance on his face. “Do you have a problem?”
“Isn’t your boyfriend going to miss your presence?”
“Why do you care about Lucas and me?” Intriguing, that.
He shrugged. “I don’t. I was just trying to find a way to get rid of you.”
“You already did that once.”
His hands gripped her wrists so quick that she barely had time to blink before she found furious blue eyes drilling holes into hers. “Damn you, Bella. I wasn’t the one that walked away. I wasn’t the one that decided whatever we had was over. I wasn’t the one that lied whenever I told you I loved you. So don’t tell me that I got rid of you.”
“You’re right,” she whispered. And, damn her, she couldn’t help the fact that her gaze fell to his lips for an instant before returning to his eyes. “I’m sorry, Brian. I didn’t mean to dredge up the past now. Whatever happened in the past is in the past. Right?”
Brian found that his anger deflated as quickly as it had appeared. He realized he didn’t want to dig up the past any more than she did. Loosening his grip on her arms, he managed a smile. “Right. I’m sorry for that. It’s just-” He let go of her and spun away to pace at the edge of the pool. “Coming back here has pulled out all of these memories, and it’s all hitting me at once. Everything about school, about us, about everything that happened here keeps popping up the longer I’m here. There are so many memories. And the craziest part?” He looked over his shoulder at her. “I’ve made thousands of unforgettable memories in the last decade, but the ones of Hensley are still my most precious. I didn’t realize exactly how much I loved it until I came back.”
“I’m glad you’re back,” she said quietly after a moment. “You’re going to be a terrific asset to the school. You always were.”
“You think so?”
The nerves were so apparent in his voice that she had to smile. “Absolutely. The professors all love you just like they did back in the day. And your students are going to be so lucky to have you teach them. And not because of what you’ve done, but because of who you are. You’re going to be a great professor.”
He blew out a long breath. “Thanks. Thanks for that. I’ve been scared that I’m in way over my head with this whole teaching position. It’s good to hear that someone thinks I’ll be fine.”
“President Turner and the administration obviously thought you were good enough because they hired you,” she pointed out.
“True.” Brian reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you. Really.” He paused for a moment before looking into her eyes, his expression serious. “I wasn’t sure how I’d feel when I saw you again. I didn’t know if I’d be angry or sad or…whatever.”
“How do you feel?”
“Good. I feel good seeing you again. Isabella.” His free hand cupped her cheek as he studied her. “I am so relieved I don’t hate you. I had worried that I would, and that would’ve been unbearable. I’d really like it if we could be friends again.”
Isabella managed a smile, though her heart fluttered at the look in his eyes. Friends, she reminded herself. “I’d like that, too. I always liked being your friend.”
“Me, too.” He glanced over at the entrance to the ballroom. “I guess we’d better get back inside, huh?”
She nodded. “Probably a good idea. Some of those professors still think you and I will get back together. This is probably fueling that gossip some more.”
“Probably.” He smiled at the thought of their old professors gossiping. Letting go of her hand, he moved towards the doors.
Isabella followed him, relieved that their second meeting hadn’t been as dramatic as their first. They were going to be okay, she thought. And that was always better than being enemies.
To say she was surprised when he stopped just steps from the door and turned to her with that oh-so-loveable grin was accurate enough.
When he stroked his fingers over her cheek and hugged her, whispering, “Thanks,” she was downright floored.
Damn the man, she thought when he’d left her standing, frozen, outside. She was afraid things weren’t going to be as okay as she’d hoped. Because just that one had made her heart flip-flop in her chest, and she’d discovered what she’d tried to hide from herself for over a decade.
Isabella Flynn was still in love with Brian Littrell.
Brian tugged nervously at the tie he wore and glanced around the classroom anxiously. A set of fifty seats were scattered throughout the spacious room and music stands stood grouped together in a back corner. The clock on the wall across from him read quarter to ten.
So, he was fifteen minutes early. Big deal.
Okay, so it was a big deal. He had no idea how today was going to go, and he was nervous as hell about the whole thing. When he’d first begun to record and sing professionally, he’d thought that teaching was never going to happen for him. Now, though, while he was glad it was happening, he was terrified. What if the students didn’t like him? What if they thought he was horrible? What if he started cracking lame jokes?
“Please, God, not the lame jokes,” he muttered to himself. He had the worst habit of making bad jokes when he was uncomfortable, and he knew his students would definitely think he was awful if he said some stupid joke about something. Being a celebrity did not excuse him from sounding like a fool.
His only class for the semester was a beginner’s music theory class, and he figured it would probably consist of mostly freshmen who were looking to major in Music or Fine Arts as the class was a prerequisite for those majors. The freshmen were likely to still be in awe of the fact that they were in college, but he knew that they could still be vicious when they began to get comfortable.
After all, who knew better than him how the freshmen could be? He’d been a TA for the class when he was a junior, and he figured he could probably teach it with his eyes closed. Unfortunately, once they’d gotten settled, the freshmen tended to develop attitudes about everything, and he didn’t want himself to become a butt of their crazy pranks.
“Just gotta be on the lookout,” he told himself as a young woman walked in the door. She gave him a weird look when she heard him talking to himself, and Brian sighed. Great, he thought. Class hadn’t even begun, and he’d already made an idiot of himself. “Good morning,” he greeted her cheerfully, hoping to smooth over the awkwardness of the moment before.
She rolled her dark eyes, flipped her straight blonde hair over her shoulder, and slid into a seat. “Yeah, hi.”
Problem student number one, Brian thought, and then reminded himself that he shouldn’t base his impression of anyone just on one moment. So, he managed a smile and began to rifle through the papers he had brought with him. He read through the list of forty-three students who had registered for the class—even though he’d practically memorized the names by this point. Then, he pulled out his pen and capped and uncapped it as he studied over the syllabus he’d painstakingly written. By the time he moved onto skimming over his notes for the day, half of the seats in the room had filled up without him ever realizing.
“Excuse me?”
Brian flipped to the next page of his class notes and furrowed his brow when he realized he couldn’t read his handwriting. Great, now I’m going to mess up some more just because I have illegible writing powers, he scolded himself. Great way to start the semester, Littrell.
“Um, Mr. Littrell? Professor Littrell!”
Finally, he realized that someone was trying to get his attention, and he jerked his head up and around to find a young man watching him expectantly. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, knowing there was a red blush staining his cheeks. “What can I do for you?”
His student pointed at the wall clock and lifted a brow. “Class should’ve started five minutes ago. We were just wondering if you were planning on doing that, or if we could just leave, since nothing’s happening.”
Embarrassed beyond belief at the fact that he’d actually lost track of time, Brian shook his head. “No, no! Just, uh, have a seat. And, I’ll pass out the syllabus. Uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to-”
“Whatever.” The young man turned and took his seat without waiting for Brian to finish his apology.
“Man, they’re really disrespectful these days,” Brian muttered to himself before smiling at the group of students staring at him expectantly. Some looked bored while others seemed excited. “Should be a fun semester,” he whispered before raising his voice. “Sorry about the delay. My name is Brian Littrell, and I will be your professor for Introduction to Music Theory I. There’s a stack of syllabi going around, which I will go over today. Then, we’ll go around and get everyone’s names, explain a little bit about this class’s procedures, and then you’ll be free to go.”
The young woman he handed the pile of stapled syllabi to, huffed out a breath. “Man, I wish I could get out of here now,” she muttered under her breath, and Brian ignored it, smiling at her instead.
“So, if you’ll look at page one of the syllabus,” he began, and, mentally crossing his fingers, he hoped he’d make it through the next hour and a half with little more attitude.
***
So, overall, he had to admit that his first class hadn’t gone as badly as he’d thought it would. By the end of it, the students, who had initially seemed bored, had warmed up enough to smile sincerely at him when he accidentally let one of his horrible jokes slip out. Though it must not have been so horrible if he’d elicited some smiles and chuckling, Brian decided. The young woman, who had walked into the class first, had actually smiled at him as she left.
“See you on Wednesday, Professor,” she’d said cheerfully, and Brian knew the grin creasing his face looked foolish, but he couldn’t help it. Somebody was actually looking forward to his class.
Though no one had asked any questions about his celebrity status and famous career, he’d seen quite a few speculative glances thrown his way. Ignoring them, he’d continued to talk about the textbooks they’d need to buy and the projects that would be due over the course of the semester. In time, he knew they’d ask him what they wanted to know and then move on and focus on the goal at hand, which was the class.
Pushing open the door of his brand-new office, he set his files aside and walked over to the window. Hensley on its first day of classes was teeming with students and professors hurrying from one building to the next for their classes. Though the clothing fashions, hairstyles, and cliques may have changed, the scene before him was exactly the same as it had always been when he’d been a student himself. Now, though, he was in the position of educator, not the one being educated.
God, he’d never known how much scarier it was to be on this side, though.
“Brian Littrell?”
He turned, hearing his name, and the smile lit up his face. “Jenny!”
The woman standing in his doorway wore a smile identical to his and laughed when he rushed over, picked her up, and squished her to him in a huge hug. “Well, it’s nice to see you, too,” she managed to say as all air was forced out of her lungs.
Brian set her down and grinned at her foolishly. “I can’t believe you’re here! It’s been years since I’ve seen you!”
“I know, and whose fault was that? Because, I assure you, it wasn’t mine.” She tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear and pushed the sunglasses she wore to the top of her head, exposing warm brown eyes. “I’ve been watching you for the last ten years, though, and then I heard you were heading back to our neck of the woods. Imagine my surprise.”
“I’m so glad you’re here. I thought you’d moved back to Chicago.” He grabbed her hand as he spoke and pulled her over to the chairs next to his desk. “If I’d known you were still living here, I would’ve come to see you by now.”
Jenny settled into one of his cushy armchairs and, reaching out, squeezed his hand. “I moved here after two years of living in the windy city,” she told him. “I realized that I wanted to be in Maine more than anywhere else. I guess we’re alike in that, huh?”
“Definitely. So, tell me, Jenny Shore, what have you been up to around here?” He still couldn’t believe that she was still near Hensley. So sure that the woman, who’d once been his closest confidante at school, had long since moved on with her life, he hadn’t been sure of how to find her. And, now, here she was, having found him.
“I’ve been doing well. I’m a history teacher at the high school in town, and I love it. It’s really great, and I always find it amusing when students find out that I was once best friends with you.” She grinned. “They ask so many questions about you that, sometimes, it’s like I’m teaching a Brian Littrell history class.”
He chuckled. “Well, I’m glad I’ve been haunting you. Now that I’m back, maybe they’ll leave you alone and come find me instead.”
“Well, considering you’re very accessible here, I wouldn’t doubt that they will. Have you gotten any fans show up here?”
“No, not really. Hensley’s got a restraining order against all the paparazzi, so I’m free of that once I’m inside the gates.” He let himself wonder, for a moment, what life would’ve been like without the reporters and cameras following him. “But, it’s the life I chose, so I can’t really complain.”
Jenny patted his hand. “No one likes to live as a caged animal.”
“No. You’re right, and I am glad Hensley’s being so accomodating. I’m happy to be home.”
She could tell, and, though he was cheerful at the moment, she knew her next question would probably change that. “So, have you seen Isabella?”
Several moments of silence followed her question before he finally answered. “Yeah. Yeah, I’ve seen her.”
“And?”
“And nothing.” He ran a hand distractedly through his hair. “We’re not who were a decade ago, and there’s no point in rehashing the past. Whatever either of us may or may not feel about each other now, has nothing to do with anything anymore. What’s done is done.”
“Is it?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with sympathy. “Because, the way I remember it, the way she ended things, a lot was left unsaid. Unresolved.”
Brian shrugged, not wanting to talk about this. Think about it. “Usually, letters do leave a lot unresolved. Isabella’s letter didn’t. She told me that she’d been thinking about it, and she didn’t want to have a long-distance relationship. In fact, she didn’t even think she felt as strongly about me as I did about her. Jenny.” He looked up at her. “I think that’s pretty resolved right there.”
She didn’t think so, but she didn’t want to see the misery in his eyes either. “Okay. It’s okay. I didn’t come here to do this, to make you sad.” She smiled a little. “I came to see if you wanted to have lunch with me. Like the old days.”
He managed to smile back, knowing she was changing the subject to help him. “Sure, yeah. I have time.”
“Great!” Jenny stood and held out a hand to help him up. “There’s this great place in town that opened up a year ago. You’re going to love it!”
Grabbing his keys to lock up the office, he followed her out. “Hey, Jenny?”
She turned to look back at him as he locked up. “Yeah?”
“I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
Author's Notes:
I know it's been a while since I updated, but here's the next chapter! Things are going to get rolling with the suspense part of this story, so I hope you're as excited as I am!
The leaves were turning various shades of gold, orange, and red. The air was cooler, and the days grew shorter. Hensley’s campus was brilliant in autumn and showed off its fall foliage grandly. The towering oaks and maples had burst into color, and tiny animals skittered around, gathering up food for the cold months ahead. Fall was quick as winter came much sooner to this part of Maine.
Brian stood and gazed out at the campus from his second-story office window. Students had pulled out their sweatshirts, and the summer clothing had been put away until late spring semester when it would emerge again in different fashions. The cycle was constant. Comforting.
His classes were going fairly smoothly now that his students had realized that he was serious about teaching them and expected hard work from them in return. Absences were rare as most of his students had actually expressed their enthusiasm for the class. Their enthusiasm for his teaching style.
He was not a great teacher by any means, but he hoped that he was good. That whatever he taught them would remain inside them always. One day, years from now, he hoped that they could remember their introductory music theory class and reminisce on how he had helped them.
He desperately hoped that he’d helped someone.
Some of his students had requested his help as a voice coach. Three of the young women and one of the boys had begged him into giving them tutorial lessons during the evenings. Brian glanced at the clock and noted that there was still another hour or so until Jessica Sullivan would arrive for her lesson. Maybe he could start grading their last compositions.
“Brian?”
He turned and found Lucas in his doorway. “Hey! Come on in.”
Lucas stepped into the room and, when Brian gestured him into a seat, he sat across from Brian. “I hope you weren’t busy or anything.”
“No, not at all.” Brian settled into his own chair. “I never really see you around campus. How have you been? I’m assuming everything’s going well over in the bio department.”
“Oh, yeah. Sure, the research is going well. The semester’s not too bad either.” Lucas hesitated for a moment. “Brian, I know we don’t know each other too well, but I’m hoping I can shoot straight with you.”
“Uh, sure.” Brian frowned. “Is something wrong?”
“It’s about Izzy. Isabella.”
At her name, Brian felt his pulse bump up a notch, and his frown deepened at the annoyance he felt. He was supposed to be over her. After all, he hadn’t seen her in weeks. He’d purposely avoided her, hoping that whatever residual feelings he had would fade. Apparently, not.
“Is she alright?”
Lucas sighed. “Yeah. Of course, she’s fine. She just goes along in her own world, at her own pace, and, if you want to be a part of her world, you have to keep up. You know what I mean, right?”
Brian hesitated, wondering how much he could say. “Well, it sounds as though she’s still the same as ever. Is something wrong between the two of you?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. I love her. I’m head over heels in love with her.” Lucas shook his head at the crazed rush of words. “We’ve been together for two years, and I’m ready to take our relationship to the next level. I bought a ring in August.”
Oh, God. Brian’s mind whirled at the implications of Lucas’ words. If he asked Isabella to marry him, and she said yes…He’d lose her forever. In that moment, Brian realized he’d been wrong. Bella would always be in him, in his heart, his soul. Always. But he could never have her. Couldn’t afford to.
“I see,” he said after a few moments. “Have you asked her yet?”
“No. But that’s where I need your help.”
“My help?”
Lucas leaned forward. “I have this feeling that Izzy still thinks that there’s something between the two of you. Ever since you came, she’s been spending less time with me. When I manage to get her alone, she’s always broody. Brian, I need you to tell me that there’s nothing between the two of you. Please.”
“I don’t—I don’t know what to tell you, Lucas.” Brian sighed. “There hasn’t been anything between Isabella and I in the last ten years. I couldn’t tell you if she has any feelings for me because, frankly, I haven’t spent much time with her since I returned to Hensley. That’s the truth.”
Lucas let out a relieved sigh. “Okay. Okay, good. I really don’t know what I would’ve done if it had been otherwise. I really love her, Brian.”
He could see that clearly. In big, bold red letters. “I know. But you can rest assured that I have no plans on stealing her from you.”
“I understand that. The thing is, I think Izzy needs to hear that, too. From you.” Lucas rubbed his hands over his face wearily. “I don’t think anything I say will keep her from thinking of you. I need you to talk to her. Explain things.”
“I, uh, I don’t know how much help that’ll be,” Brian replied after a moment. How could he even talk to her about the past, about his feelings? How could he lie to her? Did she really harbor all those feelings for him? Still? But she had been the one to break things off. He shook his head. There was no way she still felt anything, but one look at Lucas’ face had him considering. “But I guess I could talk to her about it. Clear up any lingering doubts or whatever. Is that okay?”
The relief was so apparent on Lucas’ face that Brian felt like he’d just saved the man’s firstborn or something. “Thanks. Seriously, thank you so much. I know it can’t be easy rehashing the past, but it means a lot to me.”
“No problem.”
When Lucas had gone, Brian checked the clock and decided he had enough time before the lesson to go over and see Isabella. Schedule a time to sit and talk to her. It was going to be the most painful—and most awkward—conversation he’d ever have, he knew.
He stepped out of his office and shut the door behind him. Making his way out of the building quickly, he crossed the campus to the biology building. Inside, he wound his way through until he found her office. There was no response at his knock, so he hurried down the hall to her lab. Sure enough, there she was, holed up behind the microscope and muttering to herself as she jotted something on a pad of paper. Her dark curls were piled on top of her head, exposing the creamy skin of her neck. Brian had the urge to sneak up and press his lips to her skin as he had, once upon a time, done. Isabella had always yelped in surprise and thrown her arms around him happily. Now, though, it wouldn’t go over so well.
“Isabella.” Though he called her, she was too absorbed in her work and didn’t answer. “Dr. Flynn.” Nothing. He stepped closer. “Bella.”
The uttering of the nickname that only one person had ever called her by had her lifting her head and turning quickly to face him. “Brian.” A smile lit her face. “Hi. What brings you to my corner of the campus?”
Damn it, he’d always liked that smile. He shoved his hands in his pockets to resist putting them on her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”
“Oh. Well, I’m kind of busy at the moment, but if you-”
“No, no.” Brian cut her off. “I actually have to get back to my office in a few minutes, too. I was just wondering if you were busy maybe later tonight? There’s something I really need to talk to you about.”
Isabella frowned. What was it that had that tone of urgency slipping into his voice? “It sounds important. I should be out of here by seven-thirty at the latest. Anytime after that will work for me.”
“Great! I think my home is actually on the way back to your place, so maybe you could drop by for coffee or something?” Wow, he sounded like a horribly awkward teenage boy asking a girl out for the first time.
“Sure. Where do you live?” She found a fresh sheet of paper to scribble his address on.
He smiled now. “It’s a fairly easy place to find. I bought Bakerfield manor. I think you know where that is.”
Her jaw dropped. “That was you? Damn it, Brian! You knew I’d always wanted to live there.”
There was a moment of silence between them where the tension of unspoken words was palpable. Both thought of how, if they’d still been together, she would have lived there, too. Neither said a word.
Finally, Brian broke the silence. “Sorry about that. But, it’s home for me now. So if you could drop by around eight, that would be great.”
“Okay.” She nodded. “I’ll see you tonight at eight then.”
“Yeah.” Brian moved towards the door. “See you.”
As the door shut behind him, Isabella sighed heavily. She really needed to get over him. Unfortunately, her heart had been lost to him twelve years earlier, and she didn’t know if she even wanted it back.
***
Five minutes after eight, she guided her car through the automatic wrought-iron gate at the beginning of the winding lane that led to the impressive home she’d always dreamed of. It sprawled, a beautiful, three-story, red brick and white stone structure, lazily across green lawns, surrounded by magnificent old oaks and pines. It had been built at the turn of the twentieth century and had been abandoned by the original owners when they’d gone bankrupt. They’d sold the property to a couple who’d wanted to turn it into a bed and breakfast inn, but the cost of renovations to bring the building up to code had driven them, and each succeeding owner, away.
Now, Brian owned the grand estate, but he wouldn’t abandon it. Already, there was scaffolding over the east wing, indicating that he’d hired a crew to begin repairs.
“Don’t waste any time at all, do you, Brian?” she muttered, parking her car behind his.
She followed the stone pathway up to the wraparound porch and knocked on the door. There was no response, but she heard the strains of guitar music from somewhere within the house. When she turned the doorknob, it opened easily. Shrugging to herself, Isabella stepped into his home…and sighed with envy.
Perfect. Just absolutely perfect. He’d restored the enormous crystal chandelier in the main foyer, and the double curving staircases on either side of the entrance hall had been repaired. Last time she’d seen them, there had been steps dangerously missing.
She wandered through the parlor, the study, and the kitchen with its sparkling new appliances before she found Brian in what she assumed was his music room. His fingers moved over the guitar strings and coaxed out an old country song from the eighties that she remembered he’d loved. His eyes were closed, but a small smile played across his features. He’d never been so fascinating as when he’d been lost in his music.
“Brian.”
His eyes opened, and, when he saw her, he smiled. “Hey. You made it.”
“Yeah. Your house is amazing. You’ve already fixed up so much of it. You’re restoring it perfectly.”
Her approval made his smile widen. “Thanks. It’s always good to have a second opinion on these things.” He set the guitar in its stand and gestured for her to sit. “I was going to start a pot of coffee before you got here, but then I picked up the guitar and, well, I guess I sort of lost track of time. Would you like any?”
“No. Coffee would make me too jittery right now.” She settled into a cushy armchair. “Why don’t we just discuss what it is you wanted to talk about? I’m sure we’ve both had a long day, and I’d really like to just get home and put my feet up.”
Brian nodded. “Sure, yeah.” He sat across from her. “I don’t entirely know where to start with this. It’s, uh, sort of weird to talk about it.”
“What is it?”
“Lucas loves you,” he blurted out without preamble. Wishing he could smack himself, he winced inwardly at her expression.
Her warm gray eyes had cooled. “I’m aware of that. I don’t see what that has to do with you, though.”
Brian took a deep breath. “Lucas came to see me today. He really, really loves you, Isabella, but he’s afraid that your feelings for him aren’t as strong. Is that true?”
This was definitely an odd, and awkward, conversation they were having, she decided. “I don’t think that’s any of your concern, Brian. Why on earth did Lucas speak with you about this?”
“Because he’s afraid you still have feelings for me.”
The silence that followed his statement was long, and Brian desperately wished the floor would open up and swallow him. It was just too embarrassing to have this discussion, and he opened his mouth to say so and end it, but Isabella beat him to it.
“I don’t know what you want me to say.” She stared at her hands for a moment before lifting her eyes to meet his. “Brian, I care about Lucas. A great deal.”
“I know. I need to know if you still have any feelings for me, though.” He ran his fingers through his hair wearily. “I don’t think you do because, after all, you ended our relationship, but, for Lucas, I need to be sure. He deserves your whole heart, Isabella.”
She studied Brian for a long moment. “And if I said I did have feelings for you still? What would happen then?”
He sighed. “I’d have to tell you that I’m sorry I can’t say I have the same. Isabella, there’s nothing here anymore.” The lie stuck in his throat, but he managed to spit it out.
The ache in her heart nearly brought tears to her eyes, but she fought to hold steady. He was right. Lucas did deserve her whole heart, but, at the moment, she couldn’t think of him. All she could think of was Brian and his last words. She didn’t believe him. There was still something between them—she could see it in his eyes—and she refused to believe that she meant no more to him than an old friendship.
“Nothing at all, Brian?” Her voice was quiet and should’ve alerted him had he been paying attention. “So, if there’s nothing between us anymore, you won’t mind if I make certain of that, right? If I just carry out an experiment to be absolutely certain of both of our feelings, you’ll let me?”
What, he wondered, was going on in that gorgeous head of hers? “Isabella, you told me, ten years ago, that you felt nothing for me any longer. I don’t know why you’d need to conduct any sort of experiment now when you were so sure all those years ago. But,” he continued, “if you really want to rid yourself of any doubts, go ahead. Be my guest.”
“Great.” Isabella moved over to where he sat and, without giving him any warning, cupped his face in her hands and pressed her lips to his.
Brian was startled for a moment, not knowing what to do. The uncertainty lasted an instant, though, before her taste filled him. His hands traced her face, ran down her arms, and, finally, banded around her waist and brought her into his lap. He could feel her heart pounding against his and dimly wondered what she’d conclude from this experiment. Then, he deepened the kiss and his mind went blank of everything but her.
It was the same, she thought breathlessly. His taste, the feel of his arms, everything was the same. And, yet, it was better. They’d both changed with the years, and, she decided, Brian had definitely improved his once-amazing skills. Now, he was spectacular, and she no longer knew what she’d been trying to prove.
When he broke the kiss, they stared at each other, breathless. Unsure of what to do or say, Brian threaded his fingers through her curls, his eyes a deep, intense blue and locked on hers.
“Brian.” His name was a whisper. He wondered what she was thinking; if she was about to push him away or pull him closer. Her eyes, though, were the dark gray that they’d always been when they’d made love.
Isabella brushed her lips over his again, no longer caring about the consequences. When his hands tightened on her hips, her heart leapt. “Brian. Say my name,” she murmured against his lips.
He changed the angle of the kiss, making her moan a little. “Isabella,” he whispered.
She broke off and rested her forehead against his, eyes direct on his. “No,” she said quietly. “You’ve barely said my name. Say it.”
Brian kissed her again and watched her eyes flutter shut. “Bella.” And again, “Bella.” He pulled her fully into his arms and sighed.
Isabella rested her head in the curve of his neck and was quiet for several moments. “Results were inconclusive,” she said finally.
Her dry tone made him laugh, though the laughter hovered too close to a despairing sob. They were together, but only for the moment. Brian pressed his hands to her shoulders, holding her far enough away so that he could see her face. “Isabella, I don’t-”
The ringing of the doorbell cut him off. “Damn it.”
She scrambled off his lap and stood uncomfortably. “You should answer that, and I should get going. I heard what you said about Lucas and my feelings for him. I, uh, I need to figure things out on my own, though.”
“Okay.” He led her through his home and wished for the right words to say. They didn’t come. “Thanks for stopping by,” he finally said and decided that he couldn’t have sounded more lame.
She managed a small smile. “Right. Thanks for having me.” And, gosh, we sound like perfect strangers.
The doorbell rang again, and Brian yanked the door open. On the other side stood a man and a woman, both wearing somber expressions. “Uh, hi. Can I help you?” Brian asked them.
“Mr. Littrell?” the woman asked.
Brian felt Isabella step up next to him and reached for her hand. “Yes, that’s me.”
“And you are…?” she asked Isabella.
“Dr. Isabella Flynn. From Hensley,” she added.
The man pulled out a badge. “I’m Detective Jensen and this is my partner, Detective Taylor from the State Police. May we come in?”
Brian frowned, though he suddenly felt dread creep through him. “Of course.”
When the four of them were seated in the parlor, Jensen turned to Brian. “Mr. Littrell, we need to ask you a few questions about your whereabouts today. I hope you don’t mind as this is just routine.”
“My whereabouts?” He was confused and edging into nervous. “What’s going on? Did something happen?” Isabella’s hand was still in his, and he squeezed it.
The two detectives exchanged a glance before Taylor turned back to him. “There’s been a murder.”
Author's Notes:
I know, I can't believe it either, but, here I am, updating this story almost six months after its last update! Crazy! I thought I'd given up on it, but it's coming back to me! So, here's the next chapter! Enjoy!
Brian felt his stomach drop to the vicinity of his knees and vaguely wondered if he was on a twisted version of Candid Camera. Then, he looked into the eyes of the detectives and realized it was true. "A murder?" he repeated in a faint voice.
"Yes, Mr. Littrell." Detective Jensen took out a pad of paper and pen. "Why don’t you tell us where you were today and who you were with? It’ll help."
Brian swallowed hard and bore down on the fear. "Am I a suspect, Detective?"
Detective Taylor folded his hands in his lap and leaned forward. "Mr. Littrell, at this time, we’re just doing our jobs and talking to anyone who can tell us anything. Think you can help us out with that?"
He squeezed his own hands together, then frowned. Glancing down at his hands, he realized Isabella’s was still in his. She gave him an encouraging smile, and, strengthened by it, he licked his lips nervously. "Uh, yeah. I was at Hensley just about all day. I taught a class from ten to eleven, held office hours, and graded papers in my office. I had lunch at one, maybe, and then I went for a walk around campus. It’s really gorgeous in the fall, so I thought I’d take advantage of it."
"When did you leave campus?"
Brian frowned as he tried to remember. "Well, I had a student come by my office for an hour for a vocal lesson because she wants to try out for American Idol, of all things." He tried to crack a smile, but neither detective smiled back. "Um, that was at six. By seven, she was done, and, after that, I headed out because, uh, Dr. Flynn was going to meet me here at seven-forty five, and I thought I’d straighten up a little."
"Did anyone see you leave campus at seven?" Jensen asked.
"No, I don’t think so." Brian narrowed his eyes. "Are you asking me if I have an alibi? How am I supposed to give you one if I don’t know about who was…who was killed?"
Taylor met Brian’s eyes. "Jessica Sullivan was found in the bushes on the north side of the theater arts building on Hensley’s campus at about seven-thirty. Her roommate claimed that she hadn’t returned to her room after her vocal lesson with you. Miss Sullivan had been raped and brutally beaten to death before she was dragged and left in those bushes."
Isabella knew she’d gone pale at the information, but it was nothing compared to the way Brian blanched then turned a shade of green. She could hear his breathing turn ragged, and, knowing he’d be sick, she shoved his head between his knees. "Okay, Brian, okay. Take slow, deep breaths. Come on, baby, breathe in deep. That’s it."
Though he was embarrassed at nearly having been sick, he managed to sit up after thirty seconds and face the detectives. "You think I did that to her? You think I hurt Jess that way?"
"Mr. Littrell, we don’t have any leads at this time, but we’ll advise you not to leave town." Jensen stood and tucked his pad of paper back in his pocket. "And one more thing?"
Brian stared helplessly at his hands, sick at the idea that one of his favorite students was dead, had been killed in a brutal way. But he made himself look up into the eyes of the grim-faced detective. "What’s that?"
Taylor glanced at his partner before answering Brian. "Do you own a glass paperweight the size of a baseball with a gold model of the Eiffel Tower inside of it?"
"Uh, yeah. My mother bought it for me the first time I played a show in Paris. Why?" He was almost afraid to know the answer, but he stood now, too.
"It was found with the body with both yours and Miss Sullivan’s fingerprints on it." Taylor gave a short nod. "We’ll be going now. Stay in town, Mr. Littrell. Evening, Dr. Flynn."
"Good evening, Detectives." Isabella watched them go and waited for the door to shut before she turned to Brian. "Brian."
He looked up at her, still dazed from the shock of the police visit. "Huh?"
"Call your lawyer. Call your lawyer and let him know what happened." She put a hand on his arm. "He can advise you where to go from here."
Brian shrugged her hand off and frowned. "I don’t need my lawyer."
"Of course, you do."
"No," he repeated. "No, I don’t. Isabella, I haven’t done anything wrong. I didn’t kill anyone, and the cops didn’t arrest me. I’ll call my lawyer if and when I decide I need legal representation."
She wanted to yank out her hair and scream at him. Instead, she—barely—resisted the urge to shake sense into him. "Look, Brian. They found one of your possessions with the body. Jessica Sullivan had just left your office, and she was found outside of the building that your office is in. The cops are going to follow that nicely laid out trail to you. You need your lawyer."
Brian was puzzled over who could possibly have wanted to set him up and missed the frustration in Isabella’s voice. "Thanks for your concern, but I think it’ll be okay. I’m not guilty, and they won’t ever be able to really pin anything on me because I’m innocent. Don’t worry about it."
"Well, God, Brian! It can’t hurt to take precautions in case your picture-perfect scenario doesn’t work out. Just do this, won’t you? What difference would it really make?" Her temper, never easy, was eking out of her control.
Now, his anger rose to meet hers. "You know what, Isabella? You can take all of your suggestions, and shove them! I didn’t ask for your help, did I? Why don’t you just mind your own business? You’ve been doing real well at that for the last decade, so do us both a favor and keep doing it!"
Stunned, she stared at him, the color draining from her face. Even as he swore at himself and stepped towards her, she jerked out of his reach. "Don’t touch me. You’re right. I should mind my own business, and I will. When you land in a prison cell, I won’t say I told you so." With one last, angry look at him, she stormed out.
When he heard the door slam, Brian sank onto his couch again, burying his face in his hands. What, he wondered, was he going to do with everything that had suddenly gone wrong in his life?
***
By the end of the next day, the entire campus knew of the murder of sophomore Jessica Sullivan. Many students wore black, and the campus security force had sent out mass emails about being careful on campus. Security itself was beefed up, and there were extra guards patrolling the grounds and buildings at all times. Assurances were made that the murderer would soon be apprehended. Hensley was determined not to lose another student.
Brian walked into the theater arts building and tried not to notice the looks other professors sent him. He was sure everyone knew that the police had approached him. What surprised him, though, was the fact that the media hadn’t made a peep about the murder. It should’ve made headlines, he knew, what with his name combined with the words "suspect," "police," and "murder". He wondered if being out of the limelight for a few months rendered him unable to sell tabloids.
In class that morning, his students were unusually quiet, but he’d expected it. When he asked them a question, one he knew they all should’ve been able to answer, not a single hand went up. Okay, he decided. He was going to have to do something different.
"Why don’t we make a circle with your desks? Move the music stands out of the way and go ahead and get yourselves in a big circle." He waved his hands to indicate what he wanted and, slowly, they complied. Silently.
Brian dragged a chair into the center of the circle and studied their hesitant looks. They looked…scared, he realized. Of him? God, he hoped not. That was the last thing he needed.
"We’re going to do something different today," he began. "I know a lot of you are shaken up by the murder, but you’re going to have to participate anyway. So, the way this is going to go is, I’ll put a question out there, and you will discuss it with each other and me in this large group setting. We don’t even have to talk about music theory if you don’t want to."
His students glanced at each other nervously and, slowly, they nodded and shrugged to show their agreement with his suggestion.
"Great." Brian straddled the chair, took a long look at all of them, and could sense the worry, the tension, and, even, the fear. "Let’s start with what’s bothering you. I know there must be more than just the idea of a fellow classmate being killed. So, tell me. Tell each other. Let’s get everything out in the open."
There were uneasy looks between his class, and, finally, one of the girls raised her hand. "Professor Littrell?"
"Mandy? Go ahead."
She bit her lip nervously before she spoke. "Did you have anything to do with the fact that Jessie Sullivan is dead?"
One of the other girls muffled a gasp, while some of the other students gaped at her for just asking the question. Brian had to admit it must have taken guts to ask it.
"Thanks for your question, Mandy." He looked around the circle. "Do all of you think that I was involved in what was done to your classmate? Are there a lot of you who think I’m capable of hurting another person in that way?"
"Well, how are we supposed to know?" One of the boys, Jason, watched Brian with serious gray eyes. "We don’t really know you, do we? All we know is what we see on TV, but you could be a totally different person in private, couldn’t you?"
Brian had to commend him for his frankness. "You’re absolutely right. You don’t know me. I’d hoped, at the beginning of the year, that you would all feel comfortable enough to just ask me about everything I’d done and been through, but it’s obvious that that’s not the case. So why don’t we spend this class doing that? You can be my interrogation squad." He paused waiting for the nods of assent. When he had agreement from most of the class, he spread his hands. "Before I become an open book for you, I’ll tell you that I’m not capable of what was done to Jessica. I don’t have it in me. Aside from the career in the spotlight, I’m exactly like all of you—or what all of you will one day be. A guy who’s just trying to do his job. So." He met each of his students’ eyes and was pleased by what he saw. "Who wants to go first?"
He merely smiled when six hands shot up.
***
At the end of class, Brian had them re-position the desks and music stands, pleased that, for the most part, they seemed to trust him. They’d asked him about everything from his childhood to the present and everything in between. He’d even been asked about his past and current relationship with Isabella, and he told himself he shouldn’t have been surprised that they’d asked about that, too. At this point, he thought, they could probably write a two hundred page biography about him—it would just be too boring to sell. His personal life wasn’t exactly exciting, he mused, but that was okay.
"Professor Littrell?"
He glanced up from getting his notes together and smiled. "Carrie. What can I do for you?"
Carrie, a junior who was minoring in Music Arts, anxiously tugged on one of her blonde locks. "I can’t do the vocal lessons with you anymore. I’m sorry."
"What?" He frowned. "Why not? You were doing so well."
She pursed her lips for a moment before sighing. "It’s my mom. I don’t have a problem with taking lessons with you, but my mom’s all freaked out about the Jessie thing, and she just wants me to be careful. I’m sorry," she added sadly.
"Me, too." He sighed, too. "It’s okay, Carrie. I can recommend some good vocal coaches in the area. I think my old coach is still in the area. I can get you her number."
Carrie’s smile flashed. "Thanks. I’d like that. I told my mom you didn’t do anything, but she wants to be careful. I really am sorry."
"Don’t worry about it. I understand." He smiled to put her at ease. "I’ll get you that number tomorrow."
"Okay, great!"
When she was gone, Brian sighed and sank back into the chair. He’d been wrong the night before. Life had only just begun to get complicated. The horde of reporters and cameramen outside of his gates only proved it.
Author's Notes:
And, here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy! I promise I'm going to work this story through to the end, so there shouldn't be anymore six month gaps LOL Enjoy!
Author's Notes:
I know it's been a really, really, really long time since this story was updated, but, FINALLY, it's back with a new update!! Yay! I promise, I will, slowly but surely, finish this story, and I thank everyone who's stuck by it for the almost year since it's been out. I hope you enjoy this next chapter!
When Brian was five years old, he spent months in the hospital due to a serious staph infection. The fact that he was born with a congenital heart defect didn’t make things any better. In fact, it made doctors even more vigilant about taking care of their tiny patient. He’d been stuck in a hospital bed, wearing the scratchy hospital gown, and watching reruns of every cartoon in the world—except the ones that he liked. He’d felt as though the doctors, the hospital, and his parents had conspired to make him unhappy, uncomfortable, and in pain throughout his stay.
“No fair!” had become his favorite thing to say, and he had used it on a daily, nearly hourly, basis. Patience was something Brian had never had.
Though his parents and his sister had come to visit him often, he hadn’t been appeased by their visits. Emma was barely three, and she was growing so fast. Brian hated missing the way his sister seemed to be learning all sorts of new things to say while he wasn’t there to hear it. As strange as it had been to become a big brother to a girl when he’d wanted a baby brother, he had still enjoyed every second of being a big brother. Even if Emma was shorter, smellier, and cried all the time.
Years later, though, what Brian remembered most about that period in his life was the end of it. All the pain, the fevers, the blood transfusions, the tests, and even the threat of surgery became far away memories the instant he’d learned he would be going home. Finally.
As his father’s car had driven home from the hospital, Brian had eagerly watched the world go by outside his window. There were so many changes that had taken place while he’d been in the hospital, and he didn’t like that he’d had to miss them all. There was a new pizza place next to the video arcade, and winter had quickly turned to spring. When he’d been admitted to the hospital, there had been snow on the ground, but, when he’d been released, there were flowers blooming.
With every mile driven, Brian had felt his anticipation building and, when his father had turned onto their street, he’d been ready to burst from the feeling. And then, suddenly, there was his house. In that instant, Brian had never loved that two-story, weathered brick home more. It symbolized everything that was important to him, though his five year old self hadn’t known it at the time.
Now, twenty-seven years later, Brian felt the same way about his parents’ home that he had all those years ago. Though they’d moved since the days of his hospital stay, his parents’ home always felt the same. It was full of love, warmth, and memories of a rather enviable childhood.
He sat in the driveway, staring up at it for long minutes. Inside, he knew his parents and his sister were probably waiting for him to arrive, so that the whole family could sit down for dinner. All of his life, they had been the most supportive people and the only ones he’d ever really been able to count on when the going got rough. He was just afraid that, this time, with the murder hanging over his head, they would crack.
He should’ve known better.
The instant Jackie opened the door, she caught her son up in a crushing hug. Brian could do no more than squeeze her back and bury his face against her neck. “Hi, Mom,” he murmured, leaning back a little to look into her misty eyes. His eyes stung with the threat of tears as well.
“Oh, Brian. Oh, my baby. I’m so glad you’re home.” She held him close another moment before letting go and leading him back towards the kitchen. “Your father and Emma are in the kitchen. We were just about to have dinner, so you’re lucky you’re right on time.”
He suppressed the smile that teased his lips. Predictable as it was, he wouldn’t have had his family any other way. “Great. There’s nothing like your home-cooked meals, Mom. Surviving on takeout and my own messes gets old after a while.”
“I can imagine,” she said with disdain. When she spotted her husband and daughter sitting at the kitchen table, she smiled. “Look who I found on our porch!”
Harold looked up, and a smile spread across his features as he stood to hug his son. “It’s good to have you home, kiddo. You’re just in time for dinner.”
“Thanks, Dad. It’s good to be home.” He smiled before turning to face his sister and her beaming smile. “Hey, squirt. When did you get here?”
Emma hugged her brother tight and tried not to think of all the things he’d been going through up in Maine, away from the family. “A couple hours ago. The commute from New York’s a hell of a lot quicker than the one from Maine.” She stepped back and ruffled his hair in an old habit. “You look okay, considering.”
“I am okay. Considering.” He slid into a chair and inhaled the delicious smells wafting from the dishes. “Wow, this looks great! It beats Chinese takeout any day.”
When he reached for a bowl, his parents and Emma exchanged glances, knowing that Brian had just effectively indicated that he didn’t want to talk about the murder. Sooner or later, though, it was bound to come up, and they all knew it.
***
Thanksgiving had always been one of his favorite holidays, and Brian was immensely glad he’d come home for it. He had definitely missed his family, and was always eager to see his aunts, uncles, and cousins. It was also the only day of the year when his mother allowed him to help her out in the kitchen because she was swamped.
Brian carefully removed the apple pie from the oven rack and set it on the counter next to the cooling pumpkin pie. Part of him wanted to taste test both of them, but he knew it would be a bad idea to do so. Jackie was not known for her patience with finding bits of her dishes missing before they were served.
He turned back to the oven, salivated slightly over the sight of the browning turkey, and shut the oven door. Only a couple more hours, he told himself and headed into the dining room to check out how Emma was doing with china duty.
“I hate doing this,” she grumbled when he walked in. There was a pile of pretty, violet-edged china plates on the table next to a pile of gleaming silverware. “Why do I always get stuck cleaning off the dishes while you get to be in the kitchen? Twenty-first century or not, I’d rather be the female in the kitchen.”
Brian playfully ruffled her hair as she worked on making their mother’s best glasses shine. “I’m the oldest, so I get to pick. Besides, Mom’s never forgotten who dropped her pumpkin pie.”
Emma rolled her eyes. “That was one time. Our mother is the champion of holding grudges. I was eleven, and the pie tin burned right through my oven mitts. Seriously.”
“Well, at least you’re doing a good job with the dishes,” he teased. “If you broke one of these, she might send you out to spend time with Dad.”
“Hell, no. I’m not raking leaves. Ever.”
“Yeah, you’re an avowed urbanite, aren’t you?” He grinned. “Even though you grew up in the ‘burbs. How’s New York?”
“Busy, bustling, and not Kentucky,” she replied, setting another glass carefully on a tray. “I’m missing the Macy’s parade right now. I can sit on my balcony and watch it go by. It’s the coolest thing ever to sit there, above it all, and watch. Remember that time you performed for it?”
He’d been twenty-five and riding high off the success of his debut album. “How could I forget? That giant, blow-up turkey is scary as hell when it’s looming over you.”
“Yeah, well, this is the first year in six that I’m missing it.” She shrugged. “But I guess I’d rather be here with you and the ‘rents.”
“What happened to, what’s his face? Sam, right?”
Emma shrugged again. “Nothing much. He’s still there when he wants to be. Or when I want him to be. We’re not exclusive. I don’t think I’ll ever be ready to be exclusive.” She glanced over at Brian. “Not all of us want to find our soulmates in college and never let go of them.”
“Hey.” He took a step back. “We’re not talking about me right now. This is about you and Sam.”
“Sure, it is. But you’re not really going to stand there and lie to me about how you don’t still think Isabella’s The One for you, are you? Because I have killer aim, and one of these glasses might really knock some sense into that thick head of yours.” She brandished one of her gleaming crystal glasses and lifted a brow. “Well?”
Brian shrugged and began to prowl the room, poking into drawers and staring at the knickknacks in their mother’s china cabinet. “Even if I do still love her and think I always will, it doesn’t matter, Emma. She’s engaged.”
“What?!” Emma nearly dropped a glass in her surprise. “Really? I don’t believe it.”
“No, she is.” He looked over his shoulder to where Emma was scowling at the plates in front of her. “I’ve met him, too. He’s her fellow biology professor. Dr. Lucas McCall. Smart, good sense of humor, and he got her one hell of a ring. I’m sure she couldn’t resist him.” He didn’t mention Isabella’s confession three weeks earlier as he was still unsure of what he wanted to do about it or how he felt.
Emma shook her head. “What’s wrong with her? Seriously. The two of you were attached at the hip, totally in love, and then she dumps you out of the blue. In a letter no less,” she added with a roll of her eyes. “And, now, she’s marrying Dr. Boring?”
“I don’t think she thinks he’s boring,” Brian said with a small sigh. “Em, we can try to dissect Isabella’s feeling all we want, but I don’t think it’s going to change anything. She’s been seeing this guy for a while, and they click on every level. They share the same goals, the same interests, and so on. It’s a match made in heaven.” And the more he thought about it, the more his appetite and his festive mood diminished.
“Well, all I have to say about all this then, is that she’s been making the worst decisions she could since she dumped you.” Emma wrapped her arms around her brother and kissed his cheek. “Because you are the best guy I know, and I don’t think there’s a single woman out there that will ever be good enough.”
Brian smiled a little and hugged her back. “Thanks. At any rate, I think I’m better off single for the time being what with all the changes I’ve been making this year.” He slipped the towel out of her hand. “So, want some help?”
“I would love you forever if you do,” she said with a grin.
“Then I guess I have no choice, huh?” He winked before grabbing a wineglass and getting to work.
***
His family wasn’t small by any means, but they all managed to gather around Jackie’s dining room table. She’d pulled out the leaves on the ends of the table, so all seventeen members managed to fit. The table was loaded with heaping dishes of vegetables, casseroles, and, of course, the giant turkey. Jackie had dabbed the tears from her eyes when Harold had passed the carving knife to Brian for the first time in his life.
Brian, too, had been shocked and secretly thrilled. It felt like he’d passed some sort of test and was now a full-grown adult or something, but he’d enjoyed trying not to mangle his mother’s prized turkey. In the end, things had gone better than he’d expected, if he did say so himself.
Now, he sat back and studied everyone gathered around the table. Along with his parents and Emma, his aunt Ann, her sons, Jerald, Tim, and Kevin, and Tim’s wife and children were there, along with Jackie’s sister and her family, too. It had been two years since he’d sat down to Thanksgiving dinner with them because, the previous year, he’d been too busy playing a show in London and breaking off his engagement. It was all part of the big reason why he’d decided to retire and go back to teaching.
“So, Brian, how are things going up in Hensley?” His cousin, Kevin, asked from across the table. “Is teaching everything you were hoping it would be?”
Brian toyed with the contents of his plate. “It’s better than I was expecting. The first day, I was a jittery mess, but, over time, I think I’ve surprised everyone, especially myself, by being fairly successful.”
“That’s really great.” Kevin grinned. “I remember how, when we were younger, you always wanted to play teacher.”
“Yeah, and you always made fun of me,” Brian remembered with a smile. “Look who won.”
Jerald chuckled. “Kevin’s always been jealous of you for making it big with the singing, you know.”
“I have not,” Kevin muttered indignantly.
Brian grinned. “Hey, I offered you a chance to audition for my record label, and you didn’t want it. I bet you would’ve made it big.”
“It’s cool. I’d rather take your money as your lawyer instead.” Kevin winked. “Because I got your business, I’ve started getting a lot of other celebrities showing up in my office, too. Guess you helped out more than you thought, huh?”
“I guess so.” Brian smiled back, thankful for the fact that he could sit there, among family, and enjoy himself, the way he hadn’t been able to for quite some time.
Unfortunately, Jerald’s next words wiped the smile from Brian’s face. “So why haven’t you called Kevin yet about the murder mess you’ve been dealing with up there? If the cops keep stopping by to talk to you, it would be a good idea if you had legal representation, don’t you think?”
There was a short silence after he’d spoken, and, though Brian was staring at his plate, he could feel everyone’s eyes on him.
“Uhm, well, yeah. I guess,” he began, looking up to find that, indeed, they were all staring at him. “The thing is, I know I haven’t done anything wrong, so I don’t see why I’d need representation. I have nothing to hide, and the police can look and question all they want; it’s not going to bother me a bit.” His eyes shifted to meet Kevin’s. “So, while I know I have the best damn lawyer in the world, I also know that I don’t need him at the moment. Right, Kevin?”
Kevin was quiet for a few moments before he shrugged. “Look, Brian, I know you think you’re right. Hell, I agree that, unless you’d actually gone of your rocker and actually killed your student, there’s no way the police can do more than incessantly question you. However, I could always give them a call and keep them from bothering you.”
“Kev, they found his stuff next to the body,” Tim reminded his younger brother. “They’re not going to stop questioning him until they figure it all out.”
Brian set his fork down with a snap. “Look, I know you’re all concerned about me and about the investigation, but I know that nothing is going to happen to me. So what that they found my paperweight next to my student’s body? So what that she was last seen with me? I know what I did and didn’t do, and I definitely didn’t kill anyone!”
“Son, no one’s saying you did,” Harold finally spoke up from his place at the head of the table. “Your cousins, as well as the rest of us, are just concerned about you and your well-being. It’s obvious that the investigation is taking its toll on you. Hell, you’ve turned into a skeleton since we last saw you. And those bags under your eyes aren’t there because you’ve been sleeping. Your mother and I have been worried and tempted to fly up to see you ourselves. All of us just want the best for you.”
Brian sighed. His father was right. He couldn’t get mad at the others because, as his family, they were entitled to worry about him. At the same time, though, he didn’t want them to worry about it, about him. “I know,” he said after a moment. “And I’m glad I have this family, but I can get through this. The cops are going to figure out who the murderer is before long, and all of this will just become another bad memory. Or so I tell myself.” He shrugged. “In the meantime, I’ve been keeping busy by renovating my house.”
Kevin nodded, accepting that the subject of the murder was closed for the moment. “I’ve seen pictures on the Internet. It’s gorgeous.”
“It’s huge and it needs a good deal of work. But, man, it is so much fun to fix it up and watch it gleam as things come together.” Brian grinned, remembering how often he’d bashed his thumb with a hammer while trying to nail floorboards down. “I’ve got the main parts, the ones that I use, all finished. The kitchen, the parlor, the den, and five of the bedrooms. Plus, two of the bathrooms, one of which I did on my own. The ballroom’s next on my list because I was thinking about throwing a new year’s bash.”
“Jeez, how many more rooms are there? It sounds like you live in a castle,” Emma said, speaking up for the first time. “If you didn’t live so far away, I’d totally move in.”
Brian shrugged. “It’s enormous, but I got it for next to nothing because it’s got a bad reputation. Nobody can quite dish out enough money to fix the whole thing up in one go.”
“Well, you’ve got plenty of dough, so I guess you’re sticking,” Emma said. “Good for you.”
“Thanks. I’m not going anywhere, no matter what,” Brian said with determination. “Hensley’s where I want to be, and I’m not going to let anything or anyone keep me from being happy there.”
Jackie smiled at her son. “In the meantime, we’ll all pray for the investigation to be resolved and disappear. So, when can we see this lovely home of yours?”
“I can’t wait for you to come up and see it,” Brian said excitedly. “Is Christmas too soon?”
***
Despite his best intentions, though, things did not always go the way they should or the way he wanted them to.
On the Sunday after Thanksgiving, Brian picked Gizmo, up from Jenny’s house where he’d left the cat for the long weekend. Gizmo ignored him for a while, clearly miffed that Brian hadn’t taken him along, but, by the time Brian drove down his street, his cat was already curled up and purring contentedly in his lap.
“It’s good to be back home, Giz,” Brian murmured, stroking Gizmo’s fur. “I love going back to see Mom, Dad, and Emma, but I missed this place, too. I guess that means it really is home now. No going back.”
In response, Gizmo meowed and shut his eyes, oblivious to Brian.
Brian chuckled. “It’s nice to have you on my side, buddy.”
The sun had long since set, and Brian wished that the state of Maine had put up streetlights on this highway. Since they hadn’t, he would just have to rely on his headlights to get him through the dark. Less than a quarter of a mile from his house, those headlights flashed and illuminated something lying half on and half off the road.
“Is that a dead deer?” Brian wondered aloud and, against his better judgement, decided to pull over and check it out. If it was just a dead animal, he was calling the police to clean it up. The smell, he knew, could be horrendous.
Sliding his cell phone into his pocket, he got out of the car and walked back towards the dark shape. When the smell of blood hit his nose, he pressed a hand over it and kept moving. Two steps away, he realized he’d been dead wrong about it being a dead deer.
Carrie Andrews, the junior who’d dropped his class weeks before, stared up at him with death warming over her green eyes. In the glare from his headlights, he could see the marks around her throat that indicated she’d been strangled.
Unable to stand the sight, his stomach pitching greasily, he stumbled over to the side of the roads and got rid of his dinner in the bushes. Then, with his insides raw, he called the police.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.