Fugitives of Love Read online

  In the dark, a lone figure sat on the deck. Brenna’s heart leapt and she stepped up onto the porch. “Sinclair?”

  Sinclair turned to look at her but it was too dark to make out any expression.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “I…I…” She stuttered in response to the intimidating sound of Sinclair’s voice. “I came here to see you. To talk about what happened in New York.”

  During an uneasy silence, Brenna shifted her weight, and the wooden creaking sound conveyed her nervousness.

  “Let’s just say it’s not going to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There’s not going to be an exhibition.”

  Brenna’s voice suddenly exploded from her. “I don’t care about the exhibition!” And in a moment of surprise, she realized that was true.

  “No, Brenna. We’re not going to work.”

  Brenna took a step forward. “Sinclair, what do you mean? I thought things were going well between us.”

  “The distance. Your life, my life.”

  Despite the dark, Brenna could tell she was shaking her head.

  She took the last few steps to reach her, but Sinclair stood and backed away.

  “Sinclair, I’m confused. I don’t understand what’s going on. Take me inside so I can see you.”

  Sinclair opened the back door and stepped in. She turned on a light and walked over to her work table. Propping herself against it, she crossed her arms. “We can’t be together.”

  Bewildered, Brenna said, “Is there someone else? Is that what it is?”

  “No. There’s no one else. I never would have been with you if there was.”

  “I didn’t think so, but I’ve been trying to figure out what happened between us.”

  “Please, I need you to respect my feelings and leave it at that.”

  “What feelings are we talking about, exactly? The emotions we shared in New York, making amazing love, and enjoying the hell out of each other? Or am I supposed to accept this new declaration that isn’t a feeling at all, but some command that I’m supposed to salute and then march right back to New York?”

  “I didn’t ask for this, okay?” Sinclair’s voice shuddered as she yelled. She took in a breath and her voice calmed. “Look, I shouldn’t have…I…can’t be with you. I’m sorry I left so abruptly. I know it confused you. But I need it to be this way.”

  “This way meaning us not being together?”

  “Yes.”

  “Sinclair, I really don’t understand any of it.”

  “Just understand that I’ve decided that I can’t be with you, okay?”

  Brenna snapped her fingers, frustration building. “Just like that?”

  “Go, please.”

  “Why? What did I do?”

  She raised her hands to her forehead, rubbing it rather roughly. “You didn’t do anything.”

  Brenna began to say something but Sinclair interrupted her. “It was my fault that anything ever started between us. I never should have done that to you. It wasn’t fair and I’m sorry.”

  “You can’t help your heart,” Brenna said. “And I can’t help mine.”

  “That’s just it, I could have. I should have.”

  “Do you really believe that?”

  “It doesn’t matter what I believe.” Sinclair squeezed her forehead with one hand.

  “It does to me.”

  “Don’t do this, Brenna.”

  “I drove nonstop to see you after you just disappeared. I deserve an explanation.”

  “I didn’t ask you to come up here.”

  “Then what am I supposed to do? Just leave and forget we ever met?”

  Sinclair’s head ached terribly, but the pain in her heart threatened to make her physically sick. “Yes.”

  “You’re trying to push me away.”

  “I’m trying to correct a mistake.”

  “You and I were a mistake?”

  Sinclair hated her stepfather and brother with a dark, boiling anger that almost ruined her, and until now, she’d never felt the same way about herself, but her next words would change that forever.

  “Yes. An absolute mistake.” She couldn’t look at Brenna, choosing to stare at the floor instead. “Leave now. Please.”

  The silence proved almost too much. Sinclair fought with every ounce inside her to remain stalwart. And with each voiceless second, her heart bled that much more.

  When she heard footsteps moving away from her and then the miserable sound of the closing door, she shut her eyes to catch the tears that came.

  *

  “Sis, what’s the matter?”

  Just the sound of Beanie’s voice helped fill the wretched emptiness that had spread through Brenna since she left Sinclair’s. She had driven only a couple of miles before she was crying so hard the dark road blurred in front of her. She pulled over and broke down in a frenzy of sobbing that came so fast she thought she’d never stop. Eventually, her body couldn’t maintain so much distress and she quieted. She let her head sink until she felt the cool leather of her steering wheel. Outside her car window, the forlorn rustling of the trees kept her company, but otherwise she felt utterly lost and alone.

  A cold silence grew in the car, and the longer she stayed there, the worse she felt. She wanted to leave but she couldn’t think clearly enough to navigate the dark back roads that led to the highway. She picked up her cell phone. Thank God Beanie was home.

  “It’s about Sinclair.”

  “Is she all right?”

  “I drove up here to find out what happened. I saw her but I didn’t find out much.”

  “She didn’t tell you anything?”

  “No. But she did say it’s over between us.”

  “What? I can’t believe that.”

  She sniffled. “Neither can I, but she means it.”

  “What did she say exactly?”

  “That it won’t work and she can’t be with me. She said she’s sorry she left so abruptly, but she needed it to be that way.”

  “Is there someone else?”

  “No. And I believe her.”

  “I don’t get it.”

  “I don’t either. I never expected this. Not with the way things were going between us. It was perfect.” She wiped her eyes. “She’s amazing and loving and made me feel like no one has ever been able to.”

  “Oh, sis, I’m so sorry.”

  “Have you ever felt physical pain over someone?”

  “Of course. Like you’re going to die.”

  This was a new concept to Brenna. “I never have before.”

  “The more you want something, the more it hurts when you lose it.”

  “I could have sworn she wanted me as much as I did her. I could feel it, you know?”

  “You’ll bounce back. It’ll be okay.”

  Her heart didn’t feel like it would be okay. Her sister had told her the same thing most times when she broke up with someone, and each time she agreed. But this time was vastly different.

  “That’s just it. I’ve always been all right. Until tonight. Things in my life have come with little effort, including the women I’ve dated. But was that because of the relationships I chose? I know now that they were easy and uncomplicated to begin with.”

  “Yes, it was obvious you could take or leave most of the women you dated. At least the ones I met.”

  “You pretty much met them all.”

  “And I like Sinclair the best by far.”

  “But it’s over,” she said as a jolt of anguish shot through her. “God, this hurts.”

  “Something’s bothering me, though.”

  “What?”

  “She told you she can’t be with you. Saying you can’t isn’t the same as saying you don’t want to.”

  Her comment made sense, especially since Sinclair wouldn’t look at her at the end. When she’d told her she made a mistake, Sinclair just kept her head down.

  She looked out through the rain-dotte
d windshield. Branches blew their unwanted leaves onto her hood. “I’m not coming home right away.”

  “What do you plan to do?”

  “Find out what she means by can’t.”

  “It’s late, sis. Find a hotel and get some rest. You’re pretty wrung out right now and I imagine Sinclair is, too. Talk to her in the morning.”

  Her sister was right. Brenna was exhausted. It was close to midnight so she prayed that the Pine Cottages had a room.

  “I love you, Beanie.”

  “Love you, too.”

  Chapter Twenty

  “I think you’ve had enough.”

  Donna was frowning. She didn’t understand. If she did, she wouldn’t be holding back the booze.

  “I’ve only had four shots.”

  “And you rarely drink more than one or two.”

  Midnight had come and gone, and a few tired fishermen warmed up with bourbon or Irish whiskey after a cold day on the ocean. Shortly after Brenna left, Sinclair had gone to see Donna at the Seaside Stop. She couldn’t remain in the house and hear the echoes of the cruel words she’d spoken to her.

  True, she needed to end it with Brenna, but the last thing she’d said had been a lie. Actually, a half lie.

  Being with Brenna wasn’t a mistake, at least not for Sinclair. It was the best thing that had ever happened, her chance at the truest, most sublime love of her life.

  But it wouldn’t be the same for Brenna. If Sinclair allowed the relationship to continue, Brenna would unquestionably see the mistake.

  Sinclair had had to decide for her.

  “Another shot of whiskey, please.”

  “I’ll pour you one more if you tell me why.”

  “Because I want one.”

  “No. Why do you want one?”

  “Brenna came to see me tonight. She wanted to know why I left New York, but I couldn’t tell her everything. Besides, the details don’t matter. We can’t be together and that’s what I told her.”

  Donna poured another shot into Sinclair’s glass.

  “The look in her eyes. Donna, it crushed me. But she doesn’t understand.”

  Donna leaned forward on the bar. “Honey, no one understands. You keep your life so clandestine and tight against your chest. People who meet you want to know who you are. It sounds like you and Brenna really found something special, so of course she’s going to wonder why you broke it off.”

  Sinclair tilted back the shot glass and the whiskey burned unsympathetically as it went down. “I didn’t expect her to come all the way up here.”

  “If I hadn’t lived just down the way when you and I split, I would have driven across the country to try to change your mind. But you’re stubborn, and while that makes you a strong person, it can also make you very lonely.”

  “I hurt her.”

  “It sounds like you did. And since you’re drinking my liquor, I’m gonna tell you something. If you’re determined to keep your life secret you shouldn’t have started a love affair with Brenna in the first place. It wasn’t fair to her. You can’t get involved with someone and then just leave them cold.”

  “I don’t know what I was thinking. She was mind-blowing, Donna. My heart fell right into her.”

  “And I’m sure hers fell right into you.”

  Sinclair felt woozy. The whiskey was definitely doing its work. But she was still miserable. She’d wanted the alcohol to numb the memory of Brenna’s face when she’d told her to leave. She wanted to erase the expression of pain and confusion she’d caused.

  “Another shot, please.”

  “So this is how it’s going to be?”

  Sinclair focused on the bottle of whiskey, just out of reach.

  “You play the recluse until someone interesting comes along and you step out of your shell, and it feels good, but all you can do is run back home and slam the door.”

  Sinclair closed her eyes, willing Donna to stop talking. Her brain became a dizzying, alcohol-drenched whirlpool. Somewhere outside her head, Donna’s words sounded like the buzzing drone of insects. She opened her eyes to gain her equilibrium.

  “Fishermen come in here after losing a buddy to the sea. Men who have spent forty or fifty years devoted to a woman who’s just died come in here. I let them forget their sorrows because they’ve earned it. You haven’t. Here you are thinking that you have the right to drown your life in a bottle of booze. But the person that deserves the most is Brenna. She deserves an answer.”

  Donna picked up the bottle of whiskey and moved it to the opposite end of the bar, setting it down with a loud, liquidy clunk.

  *

  Brenna woke early to the sound of a semitruck rumbling by, booming and shaking the window of her room at the Pine Cottage. She lay in bed debating whether to drive out to see Sinclair again. She’d already been dumped so why should she subject herself to more rejection? Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Sinclair didn’t truly want to be without her. She felt agitated and nervous. Was it worth the trouble to pursue a woman who had told her it was over? Worse, one who had said their relationship was an absolute mistake?

  With anyone else she’d been with, those words would have made her immediately shrug and turn on her heel. Easy. Done.

  Sinclair lived hundreds of miles away and could be difficult and ornery. She was secretive and enigmatic. She’d challenged her when Brenna had simply gone to her house to talk to her.

  Pursuing Sinclair was a foreign quest. Of the women who had broken up with her, she couldn’t remember a single one she’d been tempted to chase.

  Her past relationships had been too much work, and too much work meant her feelings never grew as deep as they maybe should have been or needed to be. She’d never grown roots but rather remained a transient in the world of love, free to make whatever decision served her.

  Unlike her gallery, where she never gave up on her pursuits, relationships were too difficult. Why would she spend any time chasing something that was a gamble or might take focus off her business and prove disastrous?

  Then she compared the two compartmentalized parts of her life. At the gallery she chased risky art and artists all the time. There was always a possibility that a deal she made could turn disastrous, but her “never give up” mantra kept her focused and determined. As long as she followed her credo, she made it through the treacherous and shaky situations. The end result was always worth the effort. If she gave up easily on acquisitions, she’d never have the success that she enjoyed.

  She could follow her gut on upcoming trends and artistic innovation. She was free to charge through adversity and obtain whatever she coveted. Her energy and fortitude were limitless.

  But in her love life, she operated quite the contrary. She ran from relationships when the slightest sign of difficulty reared its head. As soon as an obstacle popped up, she would run.

  And where had that led her? To her very own, self-created, prison of loneliness.

  She threw her hands over her eyes. She was a fugitive of her own devices.

  But Sinclair had also floored her with intense emotions and desire. And Brenna hadn’t even thought twice about driving to Maine to see her, not the first time and not the second time, especially since her feelings had grown immeasurably in between.

  She’d run from every woman she’d ever gotten close to. And now, she’d run from the one woman who had ignited feelings inside that far out-burned those she’d had for anyone else.

  Petra was another life ago, it seemed. Sinclair wasn’t Petra. And her gallery didn’t give her the excitement, and pleasure, and tenderness that Sinclair did.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Sinclair awoke in the back room of the bar. Donna was gone. She remembered talking with her until she closed the Seaside Stop and Donna ushered her into the back, pushing her down on the couch in her office.

  Sinclair got up and checked for a hangover. Other than some cobwebs in her head and a rather dry mouth, she felt tolerable.

  The bar sto
od empty but she called out for Donna anyway. When no one answered, she went behind the counter and poured herself a club soda. With a flick of her wrist, she saw that her watch read five thirty. Donna would be coming in soon to open up, but Sinclair didn’t want to be around when she did.

  She’d already had her butt chewed out, which she deserved, but she didn’t need to listen to any more. She just wanted to limp home and crawl under the covers for a few hours.

  After she put the glass in the sink she patted her pockets for her keys. They weren’t there.

  Looking around, she finally spotted the bowl at the end of the bar. A sign reading Keys Here, Then Drinks was taped to it. She plucked her keys out. Good thing, she thought. There are a lot of trees between here and home.

  Stepping outside, Sinclair allowed the darkened morning to soothe her mood. She inhaled, hoping the crisp air would refresh her unsettled mind. Looking out onto the main road, she expected Donna to pull up any minute. She scanned the road and then something across the street caught her attention. Brenna’s car was parked in front of one of the rooms at the Pine Cottages.

  Shit, why couldn’t she be gone already?

  Her heart immediately ached. She wanted to start to forget Brenna this very morning. She wanted to drive home and fill her time with beachcombing and artwork. She prayed to return to a lifestyle that existed of her once-a-week trips into town for groceries, a stop in to say hi to Donna, and then an escape back to the only place where time seemed to freeze.

  She had to put Brenna and New York behind her, except, there she was. Right across the street.

  God, she wanted to see her. Nothing had made sense since she’d run from New York. She yearned to be stricken with amnesia, but Brenna pervaded every brain cell. She couldn’t complete a thought or reach down to pick up a piece of sea glass without an intoxicating wave of memories engulfing her. When she stopped for a moment and closed her eyes, she still felt Brenna’s sensual hands and soft lips. The recent hours and days had passed as slowly as a decrepit old man shuffling across a wide thoroughfare.

  She was nothing more than a reclusive deserter of love, rebuking its romantic promise. She had spent her life in a constant fight to be invisible, but Brenna had seen her. And Sinclair had let her in.