Bridges Burned (Going Down in Flames #2)(75)

A wave of sadness swamped her, threatening to drown her where she sat. She took a deep breath and pushed the sadness away. Don’t think about it. Time to focus on the present.

Everyone around her seemed so damn happy. Even Jaxon was chatting with his mother. Everyone had family, except for her. Okay, that wasn’t fair to her grandparents, but it would take a long time before they could fill the void left by her parents. And the sadness rolled in again. She needed to get out of here.

“Excuse me.” She pushed away from the table and headed out the door to a side hall where the restrooms for guests were located. She took a turn down a different hall and headed out onto a terrace decorated with twinkling lights designed to look like snowflakes.

Gripping the edge of the railing, she stared up at the stars, willing her tear ducts to behave. Her grandmother would never forgive her if she caused a scene at the Christmas ball. The night air was cool and the terrace was quiet. It was nice to get away from people. Maybe she could hide out here for the rest of the night.

Footsteps sounded behind her. Was it Jaxon or her grandmother coming to check on her?

“Out here by yourself?” a masculine voice asked.

She turned to find a young man smiling at her in a way that set her trouble meter on high alert, but he was one of her grandparent’s guests, so he couldn’t be too scary, right? The terrace, which had seemed nice and insulated from prying eyes, now seemed too secluded.

“I just came out for a breath of fresh air. I’m not used to being around so many people. I better get back before my grandmother sends someone to look for me.” Babbling, she moved toward the door, but he blocked her path.

“It’s too late for that.”





Chapter Twenty-Nine


She laughed like he was making a joke, but held her palms face out, ready to blast him with fire if need be. “If you’ll excuse me.” She went to squeeze by him.

He grabbed her arm. “Stay here with me.”

She backed away from him, trying to yank her arm from his viselike grip. Focusing on the rage over her parents’ death, she blasted foot-high flames from her free hand. “Let go. Now.”

He dropped her arm, laughing like this had been a joke. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“You didn’t scare me. You pissed me off. There’s a difference. Don’t do it again.”

“Bryn, your grandmother sent me to find you. They’re serving dessert and she knew you wouldn’t want to miss it.” Jaxon stood in the doorway, speaking to Bryn, but with his gaze locked on the man who’d grabbed her. “Taven, I’m surprised to see you here. I wasn’t aware that your family had been invited back to the Sinclairs’ estate.”

“Just this year.” Taven flashed a fake smile. “My parents declined, but I decided to accept the invitation on their behalf. To bury the hatchet, as they say.”

He wanted to bury the hatchet all right, in her skull. Maintaining her irritated expression, she headed inside at a slow pace. No way would she let him know he’d frightened her. Jaxon caught up with her a dozen feet down the hall.

“Who was that creep?” she asked.

“Someone you’d do well to stay away from.” Jaxon looked around like he thought they might be followed. “Why were you speaking with him?”

“I was getting some fresh air, and he found me. Not the other way around.” She rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed her. “Should I tell my grandmother about this?”

“Absolutely not. You’ll go back in there, make a big fuss over the dessert your grandmother chose for you, and pretend everything is wonderful. I’ll find your grandfather and tell him what happened. He’ll deal with it how he sees fit.” As they reached the door back into the ballroom, Jaxon said, “Try not to do anything stupid for the rest of the evening.”

She glared at his back as he headed across the ballroom toward the table where her grandfather sat surrounded by his Directorate cronies.

Her grandmother’s face lit up when she saw Bryn. “Jaxon didn’t spoil the surprise, did he?”

“No.” Bryn glanced at waiters entering the ballroom carrying covered trays. They stopped at her grandmother’s table first and set the silver platter on the table. With a flourish, her grandmother lifted the dome. Underneath, Christmas cookies in all varieties and colors decorated the plate. There were chocolate chip, oatmeal, Russian teacakes, and something covered in cinnamon.

“Tell me those are snickerdoodles,” Bryn said.

“Although the name is undignified, those have always been my favorite,” her grandmother said.

Happy at having a bit of her Christmas tradition restored, Bryn grabbed a snickerdoodle and took a bite. It was cinnamon sweet vanilla goodness. “These are awesome.”

Other people at the table grabbed a cookie apiece and politely ate. Bryn grabbed one of each and piled them on her plate.

Jaxon returned to the table, took notice of her plate, and shook his head.

She just grinned and ate her way through a dozen cookies. Even though she could’ve eaten more, she stopped. To her grandmother, she leaned over and said, “Please tell me there will be more of these in the kitchen later tonight.”

“There should be three dozen set aside for our personal use.” Her grandmother smiled, obviously happy that Bryn was happy.