Big Man’s Claim Wylder, Penny (you can read anyone .TXT) 📖

it's me!” Banging the door again with my palm, I hit it as hard as I can. “Bran, I know you're home!”

After a few seconds, I hear the chain for the lock as he pulls it away. Cracking the door a hair, he says, “Not now, Mel.”

No hello, how are you doing? No I'm sorry, I should have called.

All I get is a not now Mel.

What the fuck is that?

“Not now? What the hell does that mean, not now?” Using open palms, I force the door open wide enough for me to see his face, and I'm shocked. “What's wrong? Are you feeling okay?”

His eyes are puffy with dark circles and his hair is all matted into a knotted mess. He's barefoot, standing in a pair of dirt covered jeans and no shirt. His skin looks pale, as if he hasn't seen the sun in months.

“I'm fine, don't worry about me.” Using his hand, he tries to push me back lightly so he can he close the door.

Why is he acting like this?

None of this makes sense. Things were good. We were good.

He can try and push me away, but I'm not leaving without some answers. Bran might be able to hide away from the rest of the world, but I've given too much of myself to be written off like I'm disposable.

What the hell did I do?

You opened your mouth, a voice inside me says.

Spilled secret or not, it doesn't mean he can just walk away without giving me an explanation. If it's about the family comment, he needs to be man enough to tell me himself. If there's something else, I deserve to know.

That's how a relationship works. You give and take from each other. I gave him something no one has ever owned, my heart. I think I at least earned the right to know the truth.

I don't let him close the door, planting my foot right in the opening. “I'm not going anywhere until you tell me what the hell is going on. Why have you been avoiding me?”

“Just go, Mel. It's not hard, all you have to do is turn around and walk back to your car.” He's breathing slowly, his face emotionless and flat.

What did I do? Why is he pushing me away like this?

I've done nothing to hurt him. There's no reason for him to be so cold to me. So what if I said I wanted a family, it doesn't mean he has the right to ghost me like this.

His voice sharpens as he snaps, “I said leave, Mel. I'm done, we're done. I can't keep doing this.”

“What?” I ask, my voice trembling. “What happened? Where is this coming from?” I can hear the plea in my tone. I need more than that. “Doing what? What are you talking about?”

“Leave.” His voice is harsh, full of animosity. “Get the hell out of here,” he barks through clenched teeth.

I haven't seen this side of him. He's brimming with a mix of anger and sadness. I just can't tell if his feelings are aimed at me or at himself. His eyes are glaring at me, but he looks distant. As if he's someplace else in his mind. A scattered thought, a missed moment, a memory he's focusing on.

The only thing I can recognize is him cutting the tether between us. He's gone. Whatever I thought we had no longer exists. It's gone completely.

Taking a step back, my heart starts to crumble in my chest. I can feel the muscle turn brittle as it slows to a stop. My body goes cold, so cold the tips of my fingers are numb. My arms dangle lifeless at my sides as I peer up at him, searching for a hint of the man I met that day in the woods.

The warmth I felt, his tender touch and caring worry. The way he carried me to keep me safe, and allowed me in.

I'm staring at him, my eyes glassing over as I do my best to hold in my tears. I don't want to cry. My own anger is building, and I don't want to give him any more of me. Including my tears.

I still want answers.

“Be a man, Branson, and tell me why? At least tell me where this all went wrong. Don't I deserve that much at least?”

He doesn't answer. His eyes turn cold as he closes the door the rest of the way, flipping the lock to seal him inside alone. The metal click is this last thread he just severed.

My feet are frozen, I want to turn and run, but I can't. I'm so heavy, every muscle and nerve, all the way to my bones feels like they're made of concrete. I'm stunned.

The shock I feel quickly turns to sad rage. He can't shut me out like this. It isn't fair.

Slamming my palm against the door over and over, I yell, “Bran! Bran! I deserve an answer!”

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Pounding again with the side of my fist, I grunt angrily as I beat on his door. “Tell me why!” I demand. “Why?!”

Silence.

He doesn't even care enough to explain. I mean nothing to him.

Dragging myself back to my truck, I sit in the front seat, trying to catch my breath. I want to cry. I can feel it. The tears are bubbling over the edge of my lids, and my lungs are starting to take in short gasps of air.

Flicking my eyes up, I see him standing in his window. He watches me for a second, then turns around and walks away.

There's no wave. There's no smile. There's nothing.

Branson is just an empty shell of the man I met.

Where did I go wrong?

The tears bubble up over my eyes, but I refuse to blink them free. Backing down his driveway, I head back to the farm, doing my best not to lose it. Even though the dam feels like it’s going to burst at any moment.

Pulling into the farm, I don't go inside right away. I'm