Page 157 of Low Pressure

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“Which brings us up to today,” he was saying. “I knew there would be a crowd at the funeral, and that made me nervous for your safety. For the safety of all of us. So I asked Dowd to be there, to watch our backs, and, again, I was justified in doing so. The funeral brought them all out. Moody. Rupe Collier.”

“He was there?” Bellamy asked, raising her head. “I didn’t see him.”

“Seated two rows behind us in the church.”

“And holding court in the country club’s dining room,” Olivia said. “Like he’s a dear friend of our family.”

“Let’s not forget Dent,” Steven said. “You and he are practically joined at the hip these days. I’m surprised you didn’t go charging after him like you were twelve again, pining over your first major crush.”

Bellamy’s cheeks burned as though he’d slapped her. She left her perch on the arm of the chair and walked toward him. “Why do you say things like that?”

“Like what?”

“Hurtful things. Hateful things.”

“Bellamy”—Olivia sighed—“please don’t start something. Not today.”

Ignoring her stepmother’s plea, she kept her gaze fixed on Steven. “What’s wrong with you? When you were younger, you were sensitive to other people’s feelings.”

“I grew up.”

“No, you grew mean. Snide and scornful and mean-spirited like the people you once despised.” She shook her head with perplexity. “I don’t understand you. I truly don’t.”

“I never asked you to.”

“But I want to.” Sh

e reached for his hand. “Steven,” she said with appeal, “I’ve always thought of you as a blood brother. I love you. I want you to love me.”

“We’re no longer children.” He pulled his hand away from hers. “It’s time you grew up, too, and realized that life rarely gives us what we want.”

She searched his eyes, saw how untouchable his heart seemed, and in that moment, she pitied him. Physically he was beautiful, but he was emotionally deformed. The effects of Susan’s abuse had taken a tragic toll on his life.

But by refusing to let it go, he had prevented himself from healing. He’d let his hatred and resentment fester until he’d become critical, cynical, and slow to forgive. He had a mother who loved him with all her heart. He was adored by a patient and devoted partner whose love was visible in every gesture, grand or small. But Steven kept a part of himself separate even from them. He refused to wholly accept their love and to give his in return.

That, Bellamy realized, was the real tragedy.

Chapter 27

The sun had set and dusk had settled in. The Corvette’s headlights were on when Dent steered it into a parking space, but Bellamy remained unseen until he started up the metal staircase. When he saw her sitting on the landing, he paused for several seconds, then continued climbing the stairs in a steady tread.

He’d hooked his suit jacket on his index finger and was carrying it slung over his shoulder. His necktie had been undone and was lying flat against his chest.

She stood, dusted off her seat, and retrieved her high heels, which had become so uncomfortable she’d taken them off. He didn’t say anything as he stepped around her and continued down the breezeway toward his apartment.

She fell into step behind him. “I hope you don’t mind that I waited for you to get home. I didn’t know when you’d show up. Or if you would come home at all tonight.”

He unlocked the door and went into the apartment. She hesitated on the threshold. “May I come in?”

“Door’s open.” He pitched his key ring onto the coffee table, tossed his jacket over the back of a chair, and followed that with his necktie.

She stepped inside and closed the door. “I don’t think you’re in the mood for anything elaborate, so I’ll keep it simple. I’m sorry.”

He went into the kitchen and took a bottle of water from the refrigerator. “Sorry for what?”

“For not calling you about Daddy. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how you’d react to a call from me about anything. I’d said some harsh things to you.” When he didn’t say anything, she forged ahead. “I also apologize for not standing up for you at the club. I was… My only defense is that I was in shock.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not.” He twisted the cap off the water bottle and took a drink. “That it?”


Tags: Sandra Brown Mystery