enjoy Trentâs bed. After all, sheâd been living like a nun. She deserved some pleasure.
But nowâ¦oh, Godâ¦nowâ¦
She had done the unforgivable. She had tumbled head over heels, gut-deep in love with a man who was as inaccessible to her as the moon. Trent didnât trust her. Might never trust her. And even if the truth eventually came to light, Bryn had a child. Jesseâs son. A boy whoseexistence might drive a permanent wedge between Bryn and the man she had always loved.
Even if Trent finally accepted her at face value, the situation was hopeless. Even the least intuitive person could see that a happy ending was an oxymoron in this situation.
She turned her head to look at the man who had wreaked such havoc in her life. He was seated on the far side of the opposite bed with his back to her. His voice on the phone was differentâ¦sharper, more commanding. She could almost see the employee on the other end of the call scrambling to follow orders.
But Trent was not an ogre. He was disciplined. Fair.
He would hate the description, but he was a beautiful man inside and out. Completely masculine, tough, steady, honorable.
She couldnât fault him, really, for choosing to believe his brother instead of Bryn. Jesse was his flesh and blood. And Trent had spent a lot of years looking after Jesse, making sure he was happy.
Much like Bryn felt about her son. She would do anything for Allen. Including risking Trentâs wrath to prove that Allen deserved to be recognized as a Sinclair.
But what she could not do was let this thing with Trent go any further. No matter how much she wanted toâ¦no matter how wonderful it was to be in his arms, his life, his bed. Already, her heart was breaking. They had no futureâ¦none at all.
She dressed quietly and slipped from the room. Macwas just rousing as Bryn arrived. âYou look good,â she said. âLet me help you with that dinner tray.â
âHospital food tastes like crap.â
Despite his grumbling about the bland food, Mac polished off a piece of baked fish, green beans and carrots. His protest was halfhearted and she knew the collapse had scared him.
Mac sipped tepid iced tea through a straw. âWhereâs Trent?â
âHe was on the phone when I left. Heâll be here soon.â
âWhatâs going on between you two?â
She winced inwardly, but managed not to react. âNothing but the usual. He still isnât sure he can trust me.â
âThe boyâs a fool.â
âYou were on the same page not so long ago,â she reminded him gently. âUntil Jesse died and you had to face the truth. Give Trent some slack. Heâs doing his best. Losing Jesse has shaken him. Especially since it came out of the blue.â
Guilt washed over Macâs face. He poked at a carrot with his fork. âI didnât want the three boys to know how bad it was. I thought I could whip Jesse into shape, keep a close eye on him. Iâm responsible for his death as much as anyone.â
Seeing the proud Mac Sinclair with tears streaking down his leatherlike cheeks was almost more than Bryn could bear. She moved the dinner tray and scooted onto the bed beside him, putting her arm around his shoulder. âDonât be a horseâs hiney,â she said softly. âYou were awonderful father to all four of your boysâ¦and a dear grandfather to me.â
âI sent you away.â He rested his head against her chest, his eyes closed.
âYou did what you thought was right.â
âCan you ever forgive me?â
âOf course,â she said simply. âAunt Beverly was so good to me. And Allen adores her. Iâm fine, Mac. No harm, no foul.â
They sat there in silence, both of them lost in thought.
Finally, Mac gave a wheezing sigh and moved fretfully in the bed. Bryn stood up and smoothed the covers.
He folded his arms across his chest, wrestling with the IV.