Read Online Smoketree by Jennifer Roberson - Free Book Online Page B

“Damn it, what can I say? It happened. It wasn’t your fault. That bastard coming the other way is at fault. What the hell else could you have done?”
    “He’s dead, Brandon. That’s all I know.”
    “I know. I know.” He put out both hands, caught my shoulders and pulled me to him. He was warm and big and safe. Just by holding me he eased some of the grief, and yet he also compounded it. “Kelly… he was special to me, too.”
    I turned my face against his chest. “I know it. And I hate living with it. What else can I do but blame myself?”
    “You can stop.” His chin rested on the top of my head. “I don’t blame you. No one else does, either. It was one of those horrible accidents no one can understand. Oh God, I’m so sorry…” He hugged me protectively.
    “Brandon—”
    “I might have stopped you. I might have kept you from leaving the party. I might have made sure Tucker didn’t go anywhere. ”
    I pulled away from him. “You can’t blame yourself for that!”
    His eyes were sad. “No more than you can blame yourself when someone else caused the accident. Lay it all on his head, not on yours.”
    “But they never caught him. ”
    “No. Probably never will. But it doesn’t change the fact he was responsible, not you.”
    “Or you.”
    He sighed. “No. But I still think about it. I still remember how unlike him it was to get that drunk… and I remember trying to talk you into letting him sleep it off at the house.”
    I pulled away from him. “I wasn’t drunk. There was no reason to think I couldn’t get us home safely.” I shook my head and felt the familiar sickened feeling curling deep in my belly. “But I wish I’d listened to you.”
    His hand was gentle on my arm. “Look, that’s all in the past. I can’t tell you not to think about it, but I think you need to look ahead now. Go back to modeling.”
    I grimaced. “That’s not so easy anymore. There’s not much of my career left.”
    “All right,” he said. “Yes, I saw your scar. And yes, it’s ugly. I knew you’d been scarred by the accident. But I don’t see that it has to end your career. There’s always plastic surgery—”
    “This is plastic surgery!” I took a heavy breath. “Brandon, they’ve done everything. This one isn’t going to magically disappear. What you see is what you get.”
    “Look, it’s not as if your entire face has been destroyed,” he said. “Or the rest of you. There’s an awful lot of the Jazzmine Girl left, you know.” He smiled. “Kelly, it’s not nearly as bad as you think it is.”
    I shook my head slowly. “Oh Brandon, you don’t understand the modeling business at all.”
    He spread his hands. “So tell me.”
    “For every successful model there are hundreds waiting to take her place. There is no job security in this business. The minute a void appears it’s filled.” I spread my hands helplessly. “What company is going to hire me when they can get twenty or so other girls who don’t have scars?”
    “What about Jazzmine?”
    I shrugged. “I don’t know yet. Drew’s talking to them. Things are kind of sticky right now; my contract was up with Jazzmine a couple of months ago and they’re hedging about making another offer. Drew’s doing his usual subtle arm-twisting, along with saying all the right things, so I don’t know.” I shrugged. “He’ll probably know in a week or so if they’ve decided to get another girl.”
    “Drew Stanford?” Brandon nodded. “You’ve got the best with him—that much I know. I dated a model once; she told me how she envied your position and manager.” He sighed and leaned against the pen. “Jazzmine would be stupid to let you go. Look what you’ve done for them.”
    “And vice versa.” I shook my head. “Maybe now is just as good a time as any to quit. I might not even have any choice.”
    “Don’t bet on it.” He looked past me to the shell of the barn. “You don’t bear the slightest resemblance to that