Her gaze moved to the framed collage of photos on her dresser, with pictures dating all the way back to when they were teenagers. Every year she added more pictures. There were photographs of them laughing, kissing, riding horses, at creek parties, and at community events. Her eyes drifted to the strip of pictures stuck to her mirror with a smiley-face sticker. Those were taken in the photo booth at the last county fair. In the top picture they were giving each other bunny ears. In the next she was sitting on Trace’s lap, her arm around his neck, and she was making a face at the camera while he kissed her cheek. He was always touching and kissing her, driving her out of her mind. The third picture was a blur of the back of her head, caught mid-make-out. Trace wasn’t just her lover and best friend. She knew now that he was her other half, and in many ways, her better half. She’d probably known it all along, but when she was home, in the thick of it all, she hadn’t been able to separate the commitment-phobe Brindle everyone expected—even her—and the Brindle who just might want a commitment after all.
Not that that mattered anymore.
Trace had made his feelings clear, and his accusation had forced her rebellious side—the survivor in her—to take over. Her plan to tell him everything and finally confess her true feelings for him were shot to hell. Now she had to put away the truth and figure out what the hell she was going to do.
There was no way she was going to be the girl who got a pity proposal or married a man out of his duty toward her.
No freaking way.
She wasn’t afraid to raise a baby alone.
She looked down at her sweater and leggings. She’d spent a long time looking in the mirror this morning, trying to figure out what Trace had felt when he’d seen her. She didn’t look pregnant in the outfit she was wearing today, and her mind started playing tricks on her. If she hadn’t worn her tunic yesterday, would she have told everyone about the baby right away? And if she hadn’t told them, would she have hooked up with Trace like she knew he’d wanted to when he’d first seen her? She didn’t want to think about the answers too much. She’d have done anything to spend one more night in his arms, and she wasn’t sure if that made her a bad person, or if it just confirmed who she and Trace had always been—a man and a woman whose connection was unstoppable but who were too selfish to think beyond their own needs.
Ugh…
That wasn’t right, either.
She streamed music from her phone and turned it up to full volume. It still wasn’t enough to silence the voice in her head telling her she should have stayed in Paris. As if that were even an option. She’d had to run her credit cards up to pay for the extra time she’d spent there.
She wouldn’t have wanted to stay there anyway. Oak Falls was home. She loved the gossip-mongering, so-small-if-you-blink-you’ll-miss-it town, home to horse farms and midnight rodeos, where families extended well beyond bloodlines—and where the man I love hates me.
She wished she hadn’t gone to the party last night.
What on earth made her think she could waltz in and tell her family and Trace she was pregnant as if she were announcing she’d decided to buy a car or change her hair color? The look on Trace’s face had made her want to shrivel up and disappear, and if that weren’t bad enough, word had traveled so fast, she’d heard people talking about her being pregnant on the way to her car. By now everyone probably knew—her boss, her friends, Trace’s family…
She’d thought she could handle the gossip, but now her pregnancy felt like a dirty little secret, and it wasn’t. She didn’t want her baby to feel like a dirty secret, but in this town, that’s exactly how things would play out. Her baby would be born shadowed in gossip unless she did something about it.
Anger bloomed inside her. I’m Brindle Fucking Montgomery, and nobody is going to cast shadows over my baby. She put her hand on her belly and said, “I’ve got your back, little one. I’ll fix this.”
FORTY-FIVE MINUTES later, Brindle walked through the kitchen door of her parents’ Victorian home. Her mother trained service dogs, and two of her young golden retrievers, Dolly and Reba, bounded over, all wagging tails and slobbery kisses. Reno ambled over, sniffed Brindle, then returned to Amber’s side as she set the table.
“Hi, Brin,” Amber said, looking beautiful in a fluffy gray sweater and jeans.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” their mother said as she flipped pancakes. She wore a sweatshirt from Story Time, the bookstore Amber owned in Meadowside, a neighboring town. “Brace yourself, Brindle. Your sisters have lots of questions.”
“How many questions can there be? There’s only one way to get pregnant. I can’t believe anyone even noticed. I’m not that big.” Brindle shrugged off her coat and draped it over the back of a chair, then crouched to love up the pups.
“You’re showing fast, just like I did,” her mother said. “I swear the minute I got pregnant my belly popped just enough to surpass the ate-too-big-of-a-lunch look.”
“Thanks for passing that gene on to me,” Brindle said. “I parked behind Axsel’s massive tour bus. A few of his bandmates were milling about out front on their phones.”
Axsel walked into the kitchen with Pepper and Sable and said, “I was supposed to leave ten minutes ago, but I stuck around to make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, Axsel,” she reassured him.
He looked at her like he didn’t believe her and sauntered over. “Mm-hm, and I’m into chicks,” he said softly.
“Okay, fine, you big pain. I was doing great, and then last night happened, and it was harder than I thought it was going to be. But I’m better now, really.”
He drew her into his arms and whispered, “Bullshit, but you know I love you.”
“I love you, too,” she said as her father walked through the door, followed by Grace, Reed, Morgyn, and Graham. “Where were you guys?”
As they took off their coats, her father said, “With the horses.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Hi, pumpkin. Everything go okay with Trace last night?”
Sable plucked a pancake off the plate by the stove and said, “Obviously not. Trace left the party with Heather Lay.”
Their mother scowled. “Heather Ray.”
Pain sliced through Brindle. She swallowed hard as her father squeezed her shoulder.
Heather Ray’s parents owned the feedstore in town. She’d made out with a guy in her parents’ barn in middle school, and she’d never lived it down. When she was in high school, guys used to say, Wanna play? Take Heather Ray out by the hay. Heather was a Blake Lively look-alike—curvy, tall, and beautiful. She was a little rough around the edges, but she’d always had to be, given the way people talked about her behind her back. Brindle had never made fun of her, behind her back or otherwise. She’d fought her own fair share of gossip, and she knew how stories multiplied and darkened with each telling.
“Guess it’s not Trace’s baby…?” Morgyn asked.
Everyone looked at Brindle. They looked hopeful, or maybe they looked fearful; she was too upset thinking about Trace and Heather to think straight.
“Is it Trace’s, honey?” her mother asked. “We all just assumed…But last night people said it wasn’t.”
“He was too angry last night for it to be his,” Grace said.
“Too angry?” Sable scoffed. “Give the guy a break. If she’d said, ‘Hi, I’m having your baby,’ it would be a little much for anyone.”
Brindle’s head was going to explode if they kept talking about Trace.
“It’s not his!” came out before Brindle could stop it, digging an even deeper trench of lies, but she couldn’t stop herself. She wasn’t about to tell them the truth until she figured out how to tell Trace. “It was a guy in Paris, and he wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. It was all supposed to be no-strings attached.”
“Remind me,” Sable said as she sauntered to the table and sat down. “Does an umbilical cord count as a string?”
“Sable,” their father warned.
“He doesn’t want to help support the baby?” her father asked.
“What’s his name?” Sable asked. “All kidding aside, I’m booking a trip to Paris to kick some French ass.”
Brindle rolled her eyes. Leave it to Sable to want to kill the guy when the pregnancy was just as much Brindle’s fault.
“Was he married?” Pepper asked, earning a glare from Brindle. “What? I didn’t say you knew he was married. I’m just saying that could be why he doesn’t want any attachments.”
Brindle threw up her hands and said, “I didn’t want attachments, either. Do you even know me?”
“Yes, we do,” her mother said, giving a disapproving look to her sisters. “And we love you no matter what the story is.” Her mother turned off the stove and handed the plate of pancakes to Grace, motioning toward the table.
“Plenty of people think they don’t want commitments, but they change their minds,” Graham said. “Look at my beautiful wife.” He smiled at Morgyn, who blew him a kiss. “My brother Beau was like that, and now he’s engaged, too. Things can change. Maybe you should keep that door open?”
“If the father isn’t interested in a commitment,” Grace said as she set the plate of pancakes on the table, “then you should have him relinquish his rights to the baby.”
“Ohmygod,” Brindle said.
Amber set a pitcher of orange juice on the table and sat down. “She has a point. I mean, what if you want to get married at some point and your husband wants to adopt the baby?”
“Maybe he’ll feel differently once the baby is born,” Reed suggested as he sat beside Grace and leaned in to kiss her cheek.
“When are you due?” Pepper asked.
Sable leveled a stare on Brindle and said, “What’s the asshat’s name, Brindle?”
“Andre!” came bursting out, and Brindle immediately regretted it. She’d met Andre Shaw in Paris. He was a physician and an artist, and he’d gotten his heart broken two years earlier. He’d shown her around Paris, and they’d commiserated over their complicated love lives and helped each other through many difficult nights. He’d since reconnected with his one true love, and they were happier than ever and traveling overseas. It made Brindle sick to her stomach that after all Andre had done for her, she’d just used him as her scapegoat. “Can we please drop it now?”
Sable’s eyes narrowed. “Andre what?”
“Why does it matter?” Brindle snapped.
“Wait. Wasn’t he the one you told me was in love with someone else?” Morgyn asked.
Shit. She’d forgotten about that. She’d told Morgyn all about Andre when she was in Paris, before Morgyn went to Belize.
“When has that ever stopped a guy from hitting on someone?” Sable said.
“Okay, you know what? Just stop.” Brindle sat back, wishing she could tell them the truth, but it was true that the baby’s father didn’t want to be tied down, and telling them the baby was Trace’s would only hurt more people.
Axsel’s phone rang and he turned away as he answered it. “Yeah. I’m coming out.” He ended the call and said, “I gotta go. We have a gig to get to in DC.” He pulled his signature knit cap from his back pocket and put it on, and then everyone got up to say goodbye.
“When will we see you again?” their mother asked.
“I’ll be home for Christmas.” Axsel looked at Brindle and said, “But if you need me, I’ll cancel everything and come back.”
She stood up to hug him and said, “Like I’d ever ask you to do that?”
“It made me sound chivalrous, though, didn’t it?” He kissed her cheek and then leaned in and said, “When you’re ready to talk, hit me up.”
“Can I just go with you? I’d make a great groupie,” Brindle joked. “And hey, there’s no chance of me getting knocked up.”
Everyone laughed, and as Axsel said another round of goodbyes and then headed out the door, the tension of the morning fell away. Thankfully, as they sat down for breakfast, their mother redirected the conversation, asking Morgyn and Graham about their trip to Belize.
“It was a magical experience, helping all those people,” Morgyn said with a light in her eyes Brindle had never seen before. She passed around her phone, showing them the pictures as she described the villagers they’d met and the things they’d done. “I definitely made the right choice closing my full-time shop here and selling my stuff on consignment and out of the railroad car so that Graham and I could travel together.”
Morgyn had owned Life Reimagined, an eclectic store in the center of town where she’d created her own fashions and accessories from repurposed, gently used materials. Morgyn had a deep connection with their late grandfather, who had taught her how to repurpose items. They’d spent a lot of time together in the railroad graveyard. Graham had purchased their favorite railroad car and had it refurbished so she could use it as a shop, opening it when they were in town so she wouldn’t have the stress of rent and other overhead expenditures. He’d made a deal with Reed for the railroad car to be parked on the property of the Majestic Theater, which Reed owned and was renovating to reopen. It was the perfect solution for Morgyn, enabling her to take off at the drop of a hat.
As Morgyn and Graham shared more details about their trip, Brindle tried to ignore the jealousy prickling up her spine. Morgyn and Graham had known each other only a few months, and they were so in love, so in sync, it radiated off them. Brindle and Trace had known each other forever, and though in private they were fantastically compatible, neither one had ever made the type of time or concessions for the other that Morgyn and Graham had. Not that Brindle wanted gifts or trips, but it would be nice to think past the bedroom sometimes. Sure, they’d confided intimate things, but those midnight confessions came only with their eyes closed. After making love they’d lay and talk, but before revealing anything too private, they’d close their eyes and hold hands or embrace. It would probably seem silly to anyone else, but it was those private moments that Brindle loved so much. She’d even pretended he was with her in Paris, closing her eyes and sending her confessions into her dark hotel room. It was then that she’d realized nobody could replace Trace. She’d heard people say that someone owned their heart, but Trace didn’t own hers.
He was her heart.
So why hadn’t she seen that before? Feeling like she suddenly wanted to cry, she stood up and said, “I’m going to step outside for a minute and get some air.”
Reno tipped his nose up, watching her from his perch at Amber’s feet.
“Want company?” Morgyn asked.
“No. Finish your story. I’ll be back in a minute.” She grabbed her coat and went outside.
The brisk morning air stung her cheeks and carried with it the scents of horses from the barn at the far end of the yard. She stood at the railing of the wraparound porch, surrounded by memories of her childhood. She’d spent years sneaking out of her bedroom, hanging from the window ledge and dropping to the porch roof. She could still picture Trace standing in the grass below, smiling up at her as she sat on the edge of the porch roof and then dropped into the safety of his arms. They’d been so bold, utterly invincible.
Up until the moment she discovered she was pregnant, she’d thought she was invincible. But something had happened when those little pink lines appeared on the pregnancy test—and the next four she’d taken.
The screen door opened, and her parents stepped out. “Mind if we join you?” her father asked as they came to her side.
Her father taught engineering at the local community college. He was patient and thoughtful. Even when Brindle had been in her worst rebellious stages, he’d never judged her or made her feel small for her choices. And now it wasn’t judgment she saw in his or her mother’s eyes. It was worry.
“Sure,” she said as guilt washed through her. “I’m sorry to put you guys in this position.”
“What position is that, honey?” her mother aske
d as she moved a lock of hair over Brindle’s shoulder. “You mean making us grandparents?”
Brindle smiled. “That’s one way to look at it.”
“No, pumpkin. That’s the only way to look at it,” her father said. “You got pregnant.” He shrugged. “People have sex, and unplanned pregnancies happen.”
“You’re not mad?” she asked tentatively.
“You’re in your midtwenties. This is your life, honey,” her mother said. “Why would we be mad because you made a decision you feel is right for you?”
“Because you know what the gossip will be like around here. Everyone’s probably already talking about how ‘Brindle Montgomery got knocked up in Paris.’”
“And…?” her mother asked.
“I don’t know. Are you embarrassed by it? By me?”
Her parents exchanged a glance, and her father said, “Brindle, you streaked down Main Street when you were playing truth or dare at fifteen. That was embarrassing, but mostly because the police hauled your naked ass into the station. Do you think all seven of our kids were planned?”
Brindle shrugged, and her mother laughed.
“Honey, once you have one child, planning goes out the window. I think Sable and Pepper were conceived in Daddy’s old pickup truck.”
“Ew. Don’t tell me any more.” She covered her face, trying not to imagine her parents having sex.
“Amber came after your mother visited my office wearing nothing but a raincoat—”
Brindle groaned and looked up at the sky. “If you don’t stop, I’m leaving!”
They put their arms around her and hugged her.
“Okay, let’s talk about the important things,” her mother said. “I assume you’ll get in to see your doctor? And talk to your job to figure out maternity leave?”
“I go back to work tomorrow, so I’ll talk to my boss then, and I’ll call Dr. Bryant, too. I saw a doctor in Paris, and I’m taking prenatal vitamins. I’m not going to screw this up, Mom.”
Wild, Crazy Hearts – the Bradens & Montgomerys (Pleasant Hill – Oak Falls) Page 3