Just as I was finishing my homework in the lodge, I got a text from my mother. She wanted us to have dinner together. I called Bren to let him know.
“I just got off my shift,” he said. My pulse raced at the sound of his voice. “How long do you need?”
“I’m not sure. Not long. I think she’s just feeling like we need quality time or something. I can text you when we’re done.”
“Yeah, okay. And listen, do not. Do. Not. Walk over here without me. I will come there when you’re finished. Understand?”
“Got it.”
My mother and I made spaghetti and meatballs and pretended our earlier conversation never happened. I told her about Brianna and how we weren’t speaking because of Bren, leaving out the part about Tyler, and she said there was a Brianna in every class in every school, and that they usually ended up closing small bars in small towns every night while their kids ate fast food and put themselves to bed. It was supposed to make me feel better, but it was sad, and I dropped my last forkful of meatball back onto my plate.
After we cleaned up, my mother watched me text Bren and then we went down to the lobby together.
“Why don’t you ask him to come say hello before you go?” She said.
“Now?” My chest tightened. I didn’t know how he’d react to being asked to meet my mother. It was probably on his bucket list right after ‘have eyes gouged out with hot pokers.’
“Yes,” my mother said. “That would be nice.”
“For who?”
I thought my mother would correct my grammar, but she just stared, so I went out to fetch Bren.
I caught him at the top of the stairs and he grabbed me right away, crushing me so tightly that I couldn’t take a breath. I closed my eyes and waited for him to relax.
“My mom wants to meet you,” I said, my voice muffled against his shoulder.
“Now?”
I nodded. “Sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. I showered and everything.” When I glanced up at him, he grinned. “Let’s do it.”
We walked back into the lobby, holding hands, and stepped around the reception desk.
“Mom?” I peered into the office from the threshold. She was standing there holding her coffee, waiting. She turned and put the mug on top of a file cabinet and waved us in.
“This is Bren,” I said. “This is my mother.” I made an awkward sweeping motion back and forth between them with one hand.
“Do you prefer Mrs. Dewitt, or…” Bren left his question open and extended his hand. My mother took it, a tiny smile of surprise on her lips. Her eyes shifted to the side as she tilted her head back and forth, considering the use of her married name.
“For the moment, yes, but thank you for asking. It’s nice to meet you, Bren.”
“Same here. Jenna talks about you all the time.”
“I’ll leave that one alone,” she said, and they both laughed.
“No, it’s all good."
I watched them, amazed at how easy things were between them. Bren was so genuine, and my mother responded to him as though he were an actual human being, and not some creature who was trying to ruin my future with his rabid sex cravings.
“What are your plans for tonight?” My mother asked.
“Well,” Bren said, “I guess that’s up to Jenna.” He glanced at me and took my hand again. “We can ride for a while, or hang out and watch a movie.” He turned back to my mother. “My uncle’s home now.”
“I’m too tired to ride anymore today,” I said.
“Well,” my mother said, “call if you’re going to be late.”
“I will.”
“Nice meeting you, Bren.”
“Same here, Mrs. Dewitt. Hope to see you soon.”
I looked at him as we cleared the stairs and stepped onto the snow. "You were really good with her.”
He laughed his deep, hollow laugh.
I gave him a confused smile. “What?”
“You make it sound like she’s a toddler or an unruly dog.”
“No. Because then I could buy a book on how to deal with her.”
He stared at me for a moment, then leaned over and kissed me, pulling me close to him. An involuntary, breathy sound rose in my throat and he pressed in harder, one hand sliding underneath my jacket and stopping low on my back. I felt his fingers grasp my shirt and lift it just slightly, dragging along my skin above the waistline of my jeans. Goose bumps rose all over my body and I shivered.
His laugh was whispery and warm. “Let’s go. I don’t want your mother to catch me mauling you.” He took my hand and we walked to his apartment under a crisp, starry sky.
In the middle of the night, Bren and I lay awake on his bed, illuminated by the green glow from Frey’s lava lamp. He had walked me home at ten, and I hung around the lobby reading until my mother was ready to come up to the suite. She seemed to like the idea, brought me a cup of tea and a few cookies from the reception table, and I felt guilty when I snuck out again once she fell asleep. Adding to my shame was Frey’s insistence upon sleeping on the couch, although none of them ever really slept. Even now, their muffled conversation was anxious and heated through the closed door. It was strange how Bren was sometimes separate from them. Not just physically, but in his mind, as though he saw things from a different place.
We faced each other, me with my head on my arm, Bren propped on his elbow as he twisted a lock of my hair around his finger.
“Bren?”
“Hm?”
“When will we know?”
“What?” He glanced down at me.
“Why he’s here.” More guilt as I thought of my conversation with Loki at the base of the bunny hill. I imagined telling him, just blurting the words, but held back.
“Soon.” He said. “If we don’t find out from him, we’ll go to Ringsaker and try to contact my mother again.”
“Why don’t you just do that now?”
“I can’t…” he shook his head, his eyes straying to the side, “I can’t feel her. When she’s close by, when I’m able to speak to her, I can feel her near. But lately she’s…” he shook his head again. “Loki’s escape has Asgard in complete chaos, I'm sure. I don’t know why they haven’t come after him already. She may not be able to risk talking to me now.”
“How do you do that? Talk to her?”
He grinned down at me. “Maybe you’ll see for yourself.”
The thought scared me and I closed my eyes, shook it off. When I opened them again it was as if he was looking into me, as if he saw my fear. I thought of what Skye said about him choosing not to be in my head.
I reached up and hooked the collar of his shirt with one finger. “Could you know what I was thinking? If you wanted to?”
After a long moment, he took a deep breath and let it go.
“Is that a yes?” I asked.
He let my hair escape his fingers, watched the strands fall before turning his gaze back to me. “Do you have something to tell me?”
“Why do you ask that?” I stared down at the bed.
He leaned in close and waited for me to look up at him. His eyes were hard now, and I thought he might be angry. My stomach fluttered. “Yes,” he said, “if I wanted to know what you were thinking, I would know.”
I sucked in a ragged breath, and as I looked into his eyes, I decided that whether it was possible to lie to him or not, I didn’t want to. “I saw Loki today on the hill,” I said. “He talked to me.”
His face softened and a tiny smile played at the corners of his mouth. He let himself fall back against the bed and put his hands behind his head.
“You knew,” I said.
He was quiet.
“Did Skye tell you?”
His eyes shifted to mine, the smile fading. “No. But she should have.”
“How did you know, then?” I pushed myself up on my elbow and stared down at him.
“I don’t dig around
in your head,” he said. “But I’m always listening now, with him here. Your energy didn’t match your behavior.”
“So you rifled through me to find out what was wrong?”
“Don’t say it like that. And anyway, you lied to me.”
“I didn’t lie.”
“And I didn’t lie to you about what happened to Tyler, but you said not telling you was the same thing.”
I pressed my lips together and fell back on his pillow. Either we both had an argument or neither of us did.
“Right,” he said. When I glared at him, he laughed. I smacked him on the shoulder twice before he pulled me toward him. After a few seconds, he rolled so that he was above me, his hands braced on either side of my head. He looked down into my eyes.
“You know, I don’t really need the others to talk to my mother. Sometimes I go alone. I went by myself not too long ago…and I told her about you.”
“You did? What did she say?"
“She said that if I wouldn't come home, then she wanted me to be happy here. She said I sounded happy.”
I let my hand trail up the back of his neck, pushed my fingers into his hair. “I hate that he’s ruining it for you."
Bren kissed the inside of my arm. “It’s not me I’m worried about. It's true that Loki is his own unique brand of hell…” I thought of the blackness I had seen in Loki’s eyes, remembered the hopeless feeling of suffocation and pain I had so easily forgotten today on the hill. “…but there's nothing he could do to ruin what I feel for you,” he said.
This time, when Bren kissed me, when I felt the weight of his body against mine, I didn’t even try to hold back my small gasp. I knew he could sense how I felt, and I didn’t care. I was caught up in him, in the way the muscles of his back felt under my hands, in the soft, shiny fall of his hair around his face. I pressed my fingers into his shoulders and he straightened his arms, hovering over me, watching as my eyes traveled over his face, his collarbone, his chest. I touched the hollow at the base of his throat and he closed his eyes, his moan a quiet rumble under my fingertips. Lowering himself again, he kissed my neck, once, twice, and then grazed my skin with his teeth. My breath caught again, my blood racing. I felt weak, confused by my own wanting.
“Bren.” My voice was barely a whisper.
“Hm.” His tongue slid along my lower lip. I kissed him back, the taste of him drawing me in deeper for a moment, and then turned my head to break the spell. His mouth brushed my throat again.
“Bren.”
“What,” he mumbled against my skin.
“Stop.” I breathed.
He inhaled, froze for a moment, then let out a tense, hot sigh. “I'm sorry." He pressed his forehead against mine.
“I just -”
“No,” he said, his voice still a little gruff. “It’s my fault. I know you’re not ready for this.”
He rolled on his back and pulled me against him. I closed my eyes, listened to the hammering of his heart.
“I shouldn’t have even…” I started, unsure how to continue. “It’s just that you’re so…”
He looked down at me from the corner of his eye. “So…what?”
Lately, I’d developed a habit of speaking before I knew what I was going to say. I buried my face in his shirt and felt him laugh softly.
“Did you look like this in Asgard?” I asked him.
He paused for a moment. “Kind of. Did you look like this in New Jersey?”
“No, I had bigger hair and fake nails.” We both laughed this time. I tilted my head to see his face. “What’s different about you now?”
“Well,” he said, “I guess you could say I've toned it down a little.”
I couldn’t imagine what that meant, how he could have been any more beautiful.
I barely slept knowing Bren was wide awake, glaring up at the ceiling and brooding. Although his heartbeat had evened out and his breathing was slow, he was tense underneath me, an arrow pulled back on a bow. I wondered how long his patience would hold out. And what would happen when it was gone.
Chapter 24