Tori frowned. “He’s usually not quite that grumpy.”
“He was downright rude.” She sighed. “That lighthouse was it. I got the rush I get when I’m particularly inspired. If I could have kept one photo, I could have at least started a sketch.”
Except she did have one photo. The one she’d taken of “Bran,” now that she knew his name. Facing the ocean. She’d loo
ked at it after her run, and had felt his loneliness.
Something else jiggled in her memory. “You said his name was Bran?”
“Short for Branson.” Tori leaned forward. “Do you want me to take her now?” She held out her hands for the baby.
“She’s asleep and fine here as long as you’re okay with it.”
“Are you kidding? When she’s sleeping I get to relax.” She sat back in her chair. “I just don’t want to take advantage.”
Jessica turned the name over and over in her mind. Branson. The dark hair, the eyes...
“Branson Black,” she said, her voice a bit breathy. “That’s him, isn’t it? The author?”
Tori frowned. “He keeps a very low profile here. No one in town really knows who he is.”
“Of course. It’d be like having Stephen King as your neighbor.”
Tori laughed. “Not quite. He’s not that famous.”
Jess tucked the blanket closer around the baby. “He’s pretty famous. And he hasn’t published anything since—”
She halted. She remembered the story now. Since his wife and infant son had died in a car crash.
It all came together now. His isolation. Desolation. Growling to keep people away. He was buried in grief, a feeling she could relate to oh, so well. A pit opened in her stomach, a reminder of the dark days she’d had after Ana’s death. And a well of sympathy, too. How devastated he must be.
She met Tori’s gaze and sighed. “It was in the news.”
Tori nodded. “I don’t want to betray a confidence, you understand. But yes, he’s been struggling with his grief.”
“And values his privacy. I understand now.” And her frustration melted away, replaced by sympathy.
“Do you?” Tori’s eyes were sharp. “Because he’s one of the best men I know. He’s one of the reasons Jeremy and I are together.”
Jess stared into the flickering fire. “A few years ago I lost my mentor and...well, the best friend a person could have. I’m just now starting to paint again. So yes, I get it. Grief can destroy the deepest and best parts of us if we’re not careful.”
Silence fell over the patio for a few minutes. Then Tori spoke up. “I’m sorry about your friend. And I agree with you. Which was why I sent you over there in the first place.”
Jess’s head snapped up. “You did?”
Tori nodded. “He needs someone to stir him up a bit. Looks like you did.”
Jess wasn’t too sure of that. But her heart gave a twist, thinking of what he’d lost, what he was suffering and how alone he must feel. Because she’d been there. And she’d come out the other side.
He hadn’t. And that made her sorry indeed.
CHAPTER TWO
BRAN HAD BEEN up for a walk at dawn, made himself breakfast, had thrown in a load of laundry and was now left with most of the day stretching before him. Each day he had the same ritual. Walk, eat, some sort of menial chore. Check email. Anything to procrastinate so he wouldn’t spend hours staring at an empty document. He got through those daily rituals just fine, but the moment he opened up a new file on his laptop, he froze.
He wrote mysteries, and right now, anything dealing with a murder and victims was too much. Even though Jennie and Owen had been in a highway accident and not victims of violence, he just couldn’t deal with the idea of dead bodies. The grief was too much. His memory was too vivid.
Instead, he went upstairs and out on the balcony. The fresh air bit at his cheeks, carrying the tang of the ocean as the sky spread blue and wide above him. The lighthouse stood sentinel at the corner of the property, and he shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, thinking of yesterday and the woman who’d shown up uninvited.