Roman (Cold Fury Hockey #7)(5)

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” I say with a returned but reserved smile.

He nods and finally sits down in his chair, leaning back and causally crossing one leg over the other. He looks at me fondly, perhaps rooted in memory, as he says, “Gosh…it’s probably been twenty-five years since I saw her last.”

“Twenty-seven,” I say bluntly, and his smile falters somewhat.

His voice is still pleasant and curious when he asks, “Well, how is she? Does she live in this area now?”

I shake my head slightly and force back the swell of sadness threatening to overtake me. “She died about ten months ago.”

Instantly, sorrow and perhaps a tinge of regret flood Brian’s eyes and he pushes up out of his chair. I watch as he rounds his desk and walks right up to me, putting a large hand on my shoulder. “I’m truly sorry for your loss. I didn’t know your mother long, but she was an amazing woman.”

“Thank you,” I murmur as my gaze drops down to my hands, which are clutched tightly in my lap. “And yes…she was an amazing woman.”

His hand squeezes my shoulder in comfort, and then it’s gone. I lift my head and watch as Brian takes the chair beside me, turning it to face me. “So what can I do for you? My schedule said you’re here for an interview for your college paper?”

My gaze falters. Falls right back down to my hands as my nerves cause my stomach to cramp.

You can do this, Lexi. You’re brave and adventurous. Remember that.

“Miss Robertson,” Brian says kindly, trying to get my attention…to prod me.

It works, and I lift my face back up to find him looking at me patiently.

No clue that I’m getting ready to turn his world upside down.

“I’m your daughter,” I say bluntly, refusing to let my gaze drop again. I need to see exactly how he reacts, because that will tell me the true measure of this man.

“That can’t be,” he rasps out in astonishment, his eyes rounding with surprise.

To be fair, it sounds more like shock than denial.

He doesn’t throw me out of his office.

He doesn’t even call me a liar.

He looks neither fearful nor pissed off.

Instead, Brian Brannon just stares at me with utter confusion on his face.

I nod my head slowly. “You dated my mother twenty-seven years ago. For only about two months. Your wife had died just the year before, and she told me that you broke it off with her because you said you just weren’t able to move on from your wife.”

“That’s right,” he whispers as he stands up from his chair and runs a hand through his short, dark hair with silver streaking the temples. His back is to me and his shoulders are slumped. “But she wasn’t pregnant.”

“She was but didn’t know it when you broke things off,” I tell him. “She found out a few weeks later.”

“She didn’t tell me,” he says as he turns on me. His eyes roam my face, perhaps trying to see if he sees anything of himself in me.

While I have my mom’s coloring as well as her cheekbones and lips, I’ve stared at Brian Brannon’s picture enough to know I’ve inherited his chin and nose. It’s the same as Gray’s, and I know this because I’ve stared at her picture too.

“Why didn’t she tell me?” he asks, and finally I hear a bit of anger in his voice. I figured it would appear at some point, because let’s face it, I just dropped a hell of a bomb in his lap and then detonated it.

“You made it clear to her that you didn’t want a relationship,” I tell him with my Brannon chin lifted in the air, and he actually winces at the reminder. “You broke her heart because you couldn’t let her inside, and she didn’t want to burden you further with a baby.”

“A child never would have been a burden,” he growls at me, even more pissed now. He takes two steps toward the chair and sits back down. He extends his hand…perhaps to take mine or perhaps to lay it on my shoulder again in a show of fatherly affection, but then decides against it, dropping it back down to the armrest. “Why are you just coming to me now?”

Good question. I’m twenty-six years old and meeting my father for the first time. I debated long and hard whether or not to do this, but as the months rolled by after my mom died, I couldn’t stop thinking about Brian Brannon. I’d read everything I could about him and he seemed like a decent guy. And here I was, without any family left except a distant aunt and a handful of cousins I didn’t know all that well, and I just wanted to have someone.

I was simply lonely.

And even more than that, I was always seeking the next grand adventure. I felt that Brian Brannon was a wondrous chapter just waiting to be read in my book of life.

I cough slightly to clear my throat. “I didn’t know about you until just before my mom died. She was sick for a long time, and as the end was approaching, she told me about you. I was just as shocked as you are now.”

“But you said she died ten months ago,” he says softly.

I want to say I hear a slight degree of skepticism in his voice, but I don’t see it in his eyes. I have no clue what he must be feeling, but I guess I’ll find out sooner or later before I walk out of here. So I tell him the truth. “I was scared, to be honest. Not sure you’d believe me. Accept me. I moved to Raleigh from Hartford about three months after my mom died, but it never seemed the right time to approach you. I don’t want anything from you, or Gray for that matter, but I just thought…”