When the Storm Breaks (Lost Stars)

by Emery Rose

  “What did you want to talk about?”

  “How about let’s not talk at all?”

  “I feel like I should be offended.”

  “If you were offended you wouldn’t be this wet for me.”

  On Sunday afternoon Noah and I were walking back to my house from Shiloh’s when he dropped a bomb on me. The three of us had gone riding and thanks to our morning rides, Shiloh was improving. After the horse ride, Shiloh had invited Noah over for the fancy cupcakes she’d bought on her day out with Ridge. He’d come home looking like the cat who had swallowed the canary. I’d felt the need to remind him he was only seventeen but stopped short of telling him he didn’t have a chance in hell with Shiloh. Pretty sure it was implied.

  “Are you going to marry Shy Viv?” Noah asked out of the blue.

  The fuck? “Nobody’s getting married.”

  “But you kissed her, so you must love her. Daddy Jude kisses Mommy all the time and he’s always saying how much he loves her. Like every single day.”

  No surprise there. Jude had always been demonstrative, and he’d always told Lila how much he loved her. “Yeah, well, you don’t have to love someone to kiss them.”

  “Yes, you do. When you kiss someone, you have to get married.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Arguing with a six-year-old took the patience of a saint. “And I’m not going to marry Shy.”

  “If you want to, it’s okay with me. I like her. She’s real nice. And she’s pretty too. Not as pretty as Mommy because she’s the prettiest in the world. But Shy can be in second place.”

  “I’m sure she’d be thrilled to know she’s runner-up in your beauty contest.” Noah nodded, missing the sarcasm. “I’m gonna draw her a picture. She said she likes cupcakes and tacos and music and cowboys.”

  “She said she likes cowboys?”

  “Yeah. She said she likes them even better than cupcakes and tacos.”

  “Huh.”

  “So that’s a lot a lot.” He gave me a sly look. “You’re a cowboy. So she must like you more than cupcakes. I think you should marry her and have a baby.”

  I nearly choked. “I think you should stop thinking about marriage and babies.”

  “Make me.” He dodged away and took off running, chanting Daddy’s getting married, Daddy’s getting married. Were other six-year-old boys as obsessed with marriage and kids as mine was? I caught up to him easily and tickled his ribs until he was laughing so hard he could barely breathe. He’d inherited the ticklish part from me. Then I threw him over my shoulder and jogged to the house while he pounded on my back and Buster chased after us, barking like this was a game he wanted to take part in.

  “Let me down.”

  “Nah. I’m going to carry you around like this until you’re eighteen.”

  That cracked him up and he slapped my back a few times. “You’re so funny.”

  And you are the best thing that ever happened to me. My greatest gift.

  Not something I’d ever say out loud, but it was the God’s honest truth. Noah would never fully appreciate how much he meant to me or how much I loved him. How there was nothing in this world I wouldn’t do for him. He’d never know that, in so many ways, he’d been the one to save me. To help me put my past behind me and truly believe there was good in the world. Kids were so innocent. So trusting. And it was my privilege to call him mine and to be given the responsibility to help raise him.

  I never wanted to fail him. Never wanted to give him false hopes or lie to him. I never had before, and I wasn’t about to start now.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Shiloh

  “I want to buy the filly,” I told Brody after we came back from our morning ride. Ever since he’d come back from Abilene, we’d gone riding when the sun was barely up. He’d been teaching me how to handle the horse on my own without just sitting like a lump in the saddle and letting my horse follow his.

  Now he opened his mouth to protest but I silenced him by placing my fingers over his lips. “Just hear me out. I’ll pay however much you’d get for her and I’ll pay all her expenses. I’ll pay for her food and board and for your training costs. That way you can keep her. When she gets older, she can be Noah’s horse.”

  “Nope.” He pulled the saddle off my horse and I followed him to the tack room.

  “What do you mean, nope?” I stood in the doorway and planted my hands on my hips. He brushed past me and strode over to his horse to unsaddle it.

  “Don’t come here and start flashing your money around, Shiloh. I’m not taking your money. So put that idea out of your head.”

  Once again, I trailed after him to the tack room. This guy was so damn stubborn. How could he not see that this was a good plan? If I really wanted to flash my money around, I’d buy him all the acres of land he needed for his wild horses. I’d looked at the cost of land here and it wouldn’t even put a dent in my bank account, but I knew he was too proud to accept something like that, so I’d never suggest it. But this was something altogether different. “It would be like I’m adopting a horse.” I winced at the word adopt but forged on. “I want to call her Phoenix. She’s happy here, Brody. She can stay with her mom and—”

  “No. Not happening.” He came out of the tack room with a caddy filled with brushes to groom the horses. “I already have an interested buyer and as soon as she’s weaned, I’m selling her.”

  “Who is it?” I asked, using the rubber curry comb to get up the dirt from Hail Mary’s coat. “What will they do with her?”

  “They’ll turn her into a barrel racer. If she’s not cut out for that, she’ll help to round up the cattle.”

  “I just don’t understand how you can get attached to these horses and then sell them.”

  “Horses are like people. They need a sense of purpose. I’m doing the best thing I can for her. I’d never sell any of my horses to bad owners. Trust me on that.”

  I exchanged the curry comb for a soft brush that made Hail Mary’s coat shine. “I do trust you, but it doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

  “No disrespect but you don’t know the first thing about horses.” I combed Hail Mary’s mane and tail and we didn’t say another word until the horses were groomed and we led them up the dirt path then turned them out in the pasture. I leaned against the fence and watched the horses join the others then walked back to the barn with Brody.

  “This is my life, and you’re just passing through on your way to something better,” he said.

  “I’m not sure I’d call it something better.” I watched Buster running in circles, chasing his tail. “It’s just… different.”

  “Call it what you want but it doesn’t change the fact that this is just a pit stop for you. And while we’re on the topic, I don’t want Noah getting too attached to you either. It’s my job to protect him and there’s no sense in letting him get close when you’ll be leaving soon. So I’d appreciate it if you stayed away from him.”

  I opened my mouth to protest then shut it again. It hurt that he would say that to me but he was trying to look out for his son so who was I to say he was wrong?

  Hurt and defeated with nothing left to say, I walked out of the barn as Glenn pulled up in his truck and parked by the round pen. Brody was starting another colt this morning and as usual had a ‘shitload of work.’

  I’d just stay out of his way.

  The next morning, instead of meeting Brody at the stables for our early morning horse ride, I went for a run. He hadn’t called or come over last night and I told myself it was for the best. My real life was starting to catch up to me, my time for rest and relaxation was running out, and I was feeling the pressure.

  “We’ve added more dates to the fifth leg of the tour,” Marcus told me on the phone later that morning. The fifth leg of my tour felt like a million years from now. He reeled off the dates and cities and told me he’d email the schedule. The new dates meant this tour wouldn’t finish until April of next year. The tour had started four months
ago which would make it a fifteen-month tour by the time it ended.

  “Sounds good.” And it did. This was what I was meant to be focusing on. My music career. My own life. My future.

  “Naomi set up a press junket in Europe.” He talked about the radio shows and interviews my publicist had arranged for me when I arrived in the UK in June. At the end of our conversation, he reminded me to tweet more, then asked how I was doing.

  “I’m doing great.” I forced some cheer into my voice. He didn’t need to know about my period cramps or my shitty mood, thanks to a certain cowboy. “Just relaxing and working on my new music.”

  “Good, good. That’s what I want to hear. We’ll have to discuss dates and make arrangements for getting you back into the recording studio for the next album.”

  My management team was the best in the business, and I trusted Marcus’ ability to help shape and grow my career, but there was no room for slacking. I had to fight tooth and nail to convince him that I desperately needed six weeks of uninterrupted R&R before the next leg of the tour, without having to do promo or appearances or fundraisers to increase my media presence.

  When a tour costs tens of millions of dollars and takes months and months of planning and logistics to put together, you couldn’t afford to slack off. I had to go on that stage every night and perform, give my fans what they’d paid for no matter what was going on in my personal life. And I would. There was so much riding on this tour, and I would deliver. The alternative was unthinkable, and I never let my mind go there.

  We wrapped up our call and two minutes later my phone buzzed with another incoming call. I stared at the screen. I couldn’t avoid him forever. Maybe talking to Landry was just what I needed. He was family. My only family. So I answered my phone.

  “Hey Landry. How’s it going?”

  “Are you okay?”

  I took a seat in the green Adirondack chair and stared at the lake through the trees. It was raining, a thin layer of mist shrouding the lake, and the air had cooled. “I’m fine.”

  He was quiet for a beat. “Why are you ignoring my calls?”

  “I texted you back.” I tucked my legs underneath me and absently chewed on my thumbnail.

  “What’s going on with you, Shy? And where the hell are you?”

  “Nothing is going on with me. I told you already. I wanted to get out of L.A. Lay low for a while.”

  “Right. Okay.” He sounded hurt and I hated that. “You don’t even want to tell me where you are.”

  “Landry. I’m not doing any of this to hurt you.” I wanted to tell him where I was and why I was here. I wanted to tell him I saw Hayley and she was happy. But something stopped me from saying the words. It was sad to think I didn’t trust my own brother. But if I told him about Hayley, it would go straight back to Dean and I didn’t want him to know about this. “You made your choices and so did I.”

  “Oh. We’re going there, are we?”

  I squeezed my eyes shut. I wanted to kick myself for saying that. “No. We’re not going there. I don’t want to argue with you, okay? I’m tired of arguing.”

  “I didn’t call to argue with you. I called to tell you I’m sorry for what I said before you left. I didn’t mean it.”

  “Yeah, you did.”

  He’d called me selfish for leaving the band to start a solo career. He’d accused me of sending Dean down into a spiral when I released “Damage.” Had all but blamed me for Dean’s most recent brush with the law. Had told me he wished I’d never been with Dean or had forced him to choose between his sister and the best friend he considered a brother. And I got why that had put him in a difficult position, I really did. He considered us both family. But still. A part of me had hoped he’d put me first.

  He sighed. “It came out wrong, okay? I’m sorry.”

  “I know. Me too. I’m sorry everything is such a mess. I just wish... things had turned out differently.”

  “Yeah. Me too.” He was quiet for a moment, and I waited for him to bring up Dean but thankfully he didn’t. “Are you coming back to L.A. before you head to Europe?”

  “I’ll be back for two days. Just to pack up my things and get organized.”

  “Any chance you’ll have an hour or two to hang out with your bonehead brother?”

  I smiled. “I’m sure I can make time for you.”

  “Thanks. I’d like that. It’s been too long since we hung out.” He sniffed, and I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from asking if he’d been snorting lines. “And I miss you.”

  “I miss you too.” My heart ached. How had we drifted so far apart? I felt a pang of homesickness. A longing and a sadness for the way things used to be when we were close, and my big brother was always there to look after me. When it was left to him to shoulder the responsibility of being my legal guardian, he’d just turned twenty. He always said he wouldn’t have had it any other way and I loved him so much for that, but I couldn’t help thinking how much easier his life would have been without the added burden of his grief-stricken little sister.

  “Take care of yourself,” he said. “Make sure you don’t forget to eat. And get plenty of rest. Love you, boo.”

  I brushed away my tears, my throat clogged with emotion. Despite everything, I knew Landry still cared about me and I knew he loved me, the same way I loved him. “Love you too, bonehead. Be good and stay out of trouble.” Stay away from the drugs.

  The following evening Brody showed up at my door. Rainwater dripped from his hair and his T-shirt was wet. I tried not to notice the way the soaked cotton clung to his body, accentuating his sculpted muscles. I tried not to notice how sexy he looked with wet hair and beads of water rolling down his face.

  “Sorry, baby,” I said, my voice cool and detached. “Can’t be your beck and call girl tonight. I have my period. So... see ya.” I tried to slam the door in his face, but he flattened his palm on the wood to stop it from closing.

  “Let me in, Shy.”

  “I’m not in the mood to give you a blow job either so you’re out of luck.”

  “For fuck’s sake, just let me come in.”

  I heaved a sigh and returned to my spot in the corner of the leather sofa, my knees bent, feet planted on the cushion next to mine and arms folded. I’d just started watching a music documentary on Netflix and kept my gaze focused on the TV as Brody took a seat on the sofa. I gave him the evil eye, feeling like he deserved it for telling me to stay away from Noah and then ghosting me for the past few days.

  “How do you know I didn’t come over just to hang out with you?”

  I shrugged. “I assumed you were here for sex and I’m currently unavailable.”

  He didn’t comment. We watched the documentary in silence for a while.

  A few minutes later, he lifted my feet and moved to the cushion next to mine then rearranged my legs, so they were draped over his and propped his booted feet on the distressed wood coffee table, making himself at home. I tried to pull my legs away, but he held them in place. “I came over to tell you Ridge passed all his final exams.”

  Despite myself, his words made me smile. Today had been Ridge’s last day of school and he’d had finals all this week. “That’s amazing.”

  “I took him out for barbecue to celebrate. I left him in his room, practicing the guitar.”

  “That’s good. The more he practices, the better he’ll get.”

  Brody nodded, and we lapsed into silence again, but I felt something was troubling him. I shouldn’t care but I did and what I really wanted was an apology. “What is it, Brody?”

  I nudged his thigh with my bare foot, and he ran his hands over his face. “I like hanging out with you. And I kind of miss you when you’re not around.” His voice sounded tortured like he was in agony for having to utter those words aloud. As if that was a huge confession.

  I snickered. “How old are you? Seventeen?”

  He scowled.

  “Was that so hard to admit?”

  He chuckled un
der his breath. “Yeah. It was.”

  “I like hanging out with you too. And I kind of miss you when you’re not around.”

  “Not sure if that’s good or bad.”

  “No idea. It’s just how it is.”

  “What I said about Noah...”

  “You’re trying to look out for him. I get it.”

  “I don’t think you do.” I paused the documentary, sensing he was going to tell me something important and that it was rare for him to open up.

  He was rubbing my leg clad in black sweatpants, his gaze on the frozen TV screen while I stared at his profile and waited for him to speak. “I was raised by a junkie. Sometimes she’d get clean and make an effort. When I was around Noah’s age, she met this guy. He wasn’t like the other scumbags she usually brought home. He was half-decent and treated her right.” He looked down at my legs draped over his lap. “He owned a few horses. He’s the first one who ever took me riding. And I got this idea in my head that if my mom married this guy our lives would be better. But one night he came over to our apartment and I heard them fighting. Dishes were breaking and shit and my mom told him to get the hell out and never come back. I ran into the living room and I grabbed the guy’s arm and I was begging him to stay, to take me with him. I don’t know what the hell I wanted. A different life, I guess... But he just ruffled my hair then walked out the door and that was it.”

  “Brody...”

  “Noah isn’t me. His life is nothing like mine was. He likes you so there’s no reason why you shouldn’t hang out with him.” He took the remote out of my hand and hit play, indicating that he was done talking.

  “Brody, I’m so sorry that happened to you.” I wanted to find the right words to console him, to say more on the topic, but he squeezed my thigh and jerked his chin toward the TV. “You’re missing the show.”

  He was done talking, done sharing the secrets of his soul, so I went back to watching the documentary about the evolution of hip-hop. Halfway through it, I realized I was snuggled up against Brody, his arm wrapped around my shoulders and my cheek pressed against his chest, my hand over his heart. I didn’t even know how I’d ended up here, but it felt right. I was thinking about the story he’d told me, and I had a feeling that so many worse things had happened in Brody’s childhood. I’d seen for myself how drugs fucked up people’s heads and turned them into different people, so I couldn’t even imagine how horrible it would have been to be raised by an addict. And yet, out of all the stories he could have told, that one had made an impact on him. Maybe it was because, for a little while, someone had been kind to him and treated him like he mattered.