When the Storm Breaks (Lost Stars)

by Emery Rose

  I took a deep breath and kept silent, waiting for him to go on. I had an idea of what was coming. I’d seen it in a vision. But even so, it was impossible to prepare yourself to hear something so horrible. His voice was low, and the room was quiet and while he talked, I got the sense he’d mentally removed himself from the words he was saying.

  “That night, he laid down with me on the bed and he held me. It felt wrong. But I didn’t say anything. After that night, he started visiting me more often. Always at night. In the dark. When the rest of the house was asleep. And it started small. Just a touch. As time went on, he got bolder and his hand ventured inside my pajama pants. And he always told me not to tell anyone. Until one night he pulled down my pajama pants and I knew… I fucking knew what he was going to do.”

  I felt like I was going to vomit. I wanted to run away and block out the words, but I couldn’t do that. I’d asked Brody for the truth and he was giving it to me. It was a gift and a burden. There was nothing I could do to change what happened to him, and I felt so helpless, but I needed to hear it all.

  I squeezed his hand, letting him know that I was right next to him, that I was here for him.

  “And he did it. He molested me when I was nine years old. Not just once either. I used to lie in bed, wondering if tonight was the night he’d come to my room. I tried locking the door. Barricading it. I did everything I could think of, but nothing stopped him.”

  My cheeks were wet with my tears and my heart hurt so fucking much to think there were such horrible people in this world who would do that to an innocent nine-year-old. To my Brody who despite it all, had grown up to become a good, true, honest man. How had he survived that? I couldn’t even begin to imagine it.

  I pushed myself up on my elbow and touched his face.

  “Don’t cry for me, Shiloh.”

  “I can’t help it. I want to kill that fucker.” He gave me a small smile. “Please tell me you got revenge.”

  “You don’t think I’d let something like that go, do you?”

  “No, I don’t. Is he dead?”

  He laughed, although I didn’t see anything funny about this or what I’d said.

  “If it had been left up to me, he would be. Right after high school graduation, I decided to go and extract my revenge. Damn Jude. He was waiting in my truck that morning and refused to let me do it on my own. He was scared I was going to kill the guy and end up in prison. I don’t know what I’d planned to do when I got there. All I knew was that I wanted to fuck him up. Make him pay for what he did to me. I had no proof. Nothing that could put him away. It had happened ten years before and had never been reported. I knew I wouldn’t have a leg to stand on. Who were they going to believe? Me or a guy who volunteered at the church and took in foster kids and showed the world that he was a good father to his two special needs kids? But at the time, I didn’t give fuck. I would have rotted in prison rather than letting him get away with it.

  “But Jude... he was thinking more rationally. He came up with a plan. Put the guy’s photo on a flyer and alert everyone to the danger lurking right there in their own neighborhood. We made thousands of copies and distributed them everywhere. All over the neighborhood where he lived. The churches. Schools. Grocery stores. Parks. The places that mothers with young children went.”

  “So you didn’t fuck him up? You didn’t hurt him?”

  He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Good. I want to hear that you cut off his dick and fed it to him. That man doesn’t deserve to walk the streets.”

  “You have a violent streak, you know that?”

  “I know. I just ... I want justice for you. What did you do?”

  He stroked his jaw. “We delivered all those flyers. But we did it after we tied him to a kitchen chair, and I carved his chest up like a Halloween pumpkin.”

  “You did?”

  “Yeah, I did. I used Jude’s Swiss Army knife and I made sure if he ever took off his shirt, everyone could read the words. Child Molester.”

  “And whatever happened to him?”

  “His wife turned him in. When she found out, she was so disgusted she called the cops on him. A few years later, she wrote me a letter. Tracked me down at one of my rodeos to give it to me. Guess she was too busy taking care of her kids to realize what a monster she’d married.”

  We were quiet for a few moments and I thought about his story, about the way that disgusting, vile man had abused him. And how the woman had been married to a monster without even knowing about it. Although I questioned how that could be true. Wouldn’t you know the man you were married to? Maybe not. People were fucked up. You never truly knew what they were capable of.

  “Thank you for trusting me with your truth. It means so much to me, Brody. And I don’t look at you any differently now than I did yesterday. I don’t see you as a victim. I think you’re the strongest man I’ve ever known. You’re ten feet tall and bulletproof.”

  “Yeah, well, it fucked me up for a long time. But after that crazy peyote trip, I decided it needed to stay in the past where it belonged. Like Walt said, if you give something the power to destroy you, it will. The mind is a dangerous place. You have to stop dwelling on the things you can’t change and just keep pushing forward. Some days it’s easier than others.”

  How could I have ever thought Brody was closed-off? He was the most honest person I’d ever met. And I’d been right about him from the start. He’d made it through the storm, through all the horrible things in his life, and he’d come out on the other side of it. A little worse for the wear, damaged, but not broken. And I thought it said a lot about his character that he’d found the strength from within to ride out that storm and not let it destroy him.

  I kissed his mouth, and he held the back of my head, parting the seam of my lips with his tongue and sliding inside, exploring the deepest recesses. That night I fell a little bit harder for the man who fixed broken horses and for the boy who had been forced to see the ugly side of life too young. When he made love to me, our bodies moving in perfect rhythm, my heart beating in sync with his, his strokes powerful and his muscles taut under my fingertips, I wondered if he felt the same as I did. Like we’d found our way home.

  “Stay away from those Brazilian cowboys.” He had pushed me up against the side of the car for a goodbye kiss that was on the verge of turning into something more. I wanted to grab his hand and drag him back inside with me. My flight wasn’t until tomorrow but his was today.

  “There’s only one cowboy for me.”

  He gave me one more kiss before he released me. “See you soon.”

  “Six weeks.” God, it felt like an eternity.

  “Nah. I’ll see you on my phone screen. I’ll have to use my left hand. Keep my right hand free.”

  I played coy like I didn’t know what he was talking about. “And why would you need to keep your right hand free?”

  He leaned in close and pulled me flush against him, his voice low. “So I can stroke my rock-hard cock while I watch you on your hands and knees, fucking your pussy with that big boy that doesn’t even come close to doing what I can do. But when in Rio…”

  With that, he gave me a sexy wink and released me. I sighed as I watched him drive away, already missing him. Dammit. And he’d left me aching for more.

  He texted me from Paris, pissed off that I’d upgraded him to First Class.

  Don’t pull that shit again.

  I’m a rock star. I’d do whatever the fuck I want, and you’ll thank me for it. I punctuated it with a wink emoji.

  Next time I see you, you’re going to get a good spanking.

  Promises, promises. You’re all talk.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Brody

  Six weeks later, Shiloh flew to Austin to spend four days with me. Since I’d last seen her, she’d FaceTimed me from every capital city in South America, Mexico City, and L.A. where she’d been for the past few days.

  Unfortunately
, she arrived on a Sunday afternoon and as soon as everyone got wind of her arrival, they all wanted to spend time with her.

  “I promised Lila I’d come to Sunday dinner,” Shiloh said when I picked her up at the airport, our kiss more chaste than I’d have liked but Noah was with me. He drew a picture especially for her, a girl with black hair and a guitar. He also drew a cowboy that was supposed to me, cupcakes and tacos. Shiloh had given him a big hug and brushed the tears from her eyes.

  I groaned. “Let’s skip the family dinner.”

  “I love your family and I want to see them.”

  “Did you bring me a present?” Noah piped up from the backseat.

  I scowled at him in the rearview mirror. “People don’t need to give you a present every time they see you.”

  “Not every time. Just when they go away. Like when you were a rodeo man, remember? And after you got back from being with Shy Viv, remember?”

  “Yeah, I remember.” I didn’t mention that my gift-giving had been fueled by guilt. Every time I left him, I felt like shit about it, so I never came home empty-handed. It had gotten to the point where he expected it, and since I never wanted to disappoint him, I always delivered. “But Shy doesn’t need to bring gifts.”

  “Of course I brought you a present,” Shy said. “I’ll give it to you when we get to your grandma’s, okay?”

  “Okay. Did you bring Daddy a present too?”

  “Okay, little man. That’s enough from you. It’s not cool to ask for presents.”

  Shiloh laughed. “I brought extra special presents for your daddy.” She lowered her voice for my ears only. “You’ll be getting yours later tonight.”

  “Yeah? Well, as it turns out, I’ve got a nice big, juicy something special just for you.”

  She laughed. “Juicy, huh?”

  “Mmhmm. It’s the gift that keeps on giving. All night long. Never quits. No batteries needed.” I side-eyed her. “Not too late to change your mind about Sunday dinner.”

  “Tempting. But we’re going. I want to see everyone.”

  Of course, she did.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the driveway at my aunt’s and uncle’s house. The porch was decorated with pumpkins and cobwebs and the old scarecrow was hanging in the front yard.

  I opened Noah’s door and he raced across the lawn. The air was crisp and cool, and it smelled like woodsmoke, the gold and orange and red fallen leaves raked into a big pile. I met Shiloh next to the passenger door. She was wearing a black hoodie and ripped black jeans with her Army boots, like the first time I’d picked her up at the airport.

  “How’s Jesse?” she asked as we crossed the front lawn.

  Noah got a running start and threw himself right into the middle of the giant pile of leaves. I picked him up and tossed him in the leaves again.

  “He’s been better.”

  Jesse wasn’t doing great, and that was putting it mildly. I’d never seen my youngest cousin like this before. The weekend after I flew back from France, he crashed his bike and broke his back. The surgery had gone well and physically, he was healing fine. He had to wear a back brace for another month or two and then he was starting physical therapy.

  But his spirit was broken, and that was sad as fuck to see, especially when it was Jesse who had always been the charmer, the one most likely to put a positive spin on any situation. Now he was having to face the fact that his career might be over. Not to mention, the other shit he’d gone through when he found out his girlfriend had been cheating on him. Two weeks ago, he’d moved back to Texas and the few times I’d seen him he’d barely spoken a word let alone cracked a smile.

  So yeah, Jesse was not in the best place right now. Hopefully, with time and distractions, he’d make it through to the other side.

  Everyone was happy to see Shiloh again and peppered her with questions all through dinner. Steaks on the grill, corn on the cob, cheesy potatoes and apple pie. We sat at the long farmhouse table Patrick had given Kate for her birthday and Shiloh regaled them with tales of the road. A natural storyteller, she had everyone at the table charmed, including Levi who was sitting in her lap, grabbing fistfuls of her hair and yanking on it. She laughed and kissed his chubby cheeks like it was the most adorable thing ever.

  Jesse didn’t even join us for dinner which said a lot. He was family-oriented and usually loved spending time with everyone. Ridge wasn’t there either. He made it a point to work every Sunday so he could skip the family dinners. But he’d ended up joining the football team, and Patrick never missed a single Friday night game. None of us did if we could help it. We all showed up to cheer him on and even though he claimed to hate football, he was pretty damn good at it. He was big, he was strong, and he was fast. All raw power and brute strength.

  By the time we left, it had gotten dark already, the days getting shorter.

  “I’ve missed this place so much,” Shiloh said when we walked through my front door. Buster was there to greet us, wagging his tail as Shiloh knelt down to rub behind his ears. “Can we go see the horses?”

  “That’s the first thing you want to do?”

  She smiled but it wasn’t her genuine smile. “We have four days. And um, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  I didn’t like the way that sounded. “What is it?”

  “Let’s go see Phoenix.”

  My eyes narrowed on her. She smiled again and looped her arms around my neck, giving me a kiss, a promise of more to come. She was hedging, which was unlike her, so I knew it had to be something big. Something I wouldn’t like. I grabbed a flashlight from the kitchen, and we walked to the barn, my arm around her shoulders, Buster trotting along beside us. Earlier, I’d brought Phoenix in from the pasture and put her into a stall, knowing Shiloh would want to see her. She whinnied in greeting as if she remembered Shiloh and was happy to see her.

  I kept meaning to sell Phoenix, but something always stopped me. And that something—someone—was standing right next to me, stroking Phoenix’s neck.

  “What did you need to tell me?” What if she was pregnant? Wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but I knew it wasn’t something she wanted so that might explain why she was gnawing on her lip, like she was scared to say the words. “Whatever it is… we’ll deal with it.”

  She closed her eyes briefly then turned to face me. “When I was in L.A., I did something…”

  My body tensed. Fuck. No. I took a step back. “Did you sleep with your ex-boyfriend?”

  Her eyes widened. “What? No. God, I’d never do that.” My momentary relief disappeared as soon as she uttered the next words. “I … told Dean I’d record a duet with him.”

  “You what?”

  “I agreed to record a duet with Dean,” she repeated as if I needed to hear the words again. “In December, I have six weeks free and I… I said we’d do it then.”

  Un-fucking-believable. I couldn’t wrap my head around this. I reared back like I’d been sucker punched which was how it felt. “Why the hell would you do that? Why would you give him what he wants?” I needed some explanation as to why she would have thought this was okay.

  She closed her eyes and blew out a breath then raised her eyes to mine. “I’m sorry, okay? I just… the song is… it’s amazing, Brody.”

  I huffed out a laugh. I didn’t give a shit if it was Grammy-worthy. “Your songs are amazing. Why the fuck would you go into a recording studio with him? You don’t need him, Shy.” You’ve got me. But I wasn’t a musician, and I couldn’t write amazing songs or play a guitar or do jack shit when it came to music.

  “It’ll be good for my music career.”

  “Who the fuck told you that?” I grasped her chin in my hand and lifted her face to mine. “Is someone forcing you to do it? Your management team? Your publicist? The record label?”

  “Would it make you feel better if I said yes?”

  “I don’t know, Shy. Is it the truth? Because that’s all I want from you. The fucking truth.�
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  She took a couple steps back, putting distance between us and folded her arms over her chest. “You want the truth? I love you. How’s that for a truth?”

  “What does that have to do with this conversation?”

  “Why can’t you say the words?”

  The fuck? “Oh, hold on.” My eyes narrowed on her. “Are you saying you agreed to record a duet with the douche because I haven’t said three little words yet?”

  Her shoulders sagged. “No. I’m going to record a duet with Dean because the song is good, and I don’t want…” She released a breath and shook her head a little.

  “You don’t want what? What don’t you want, Shy? Fucking say it.”

  She lifted her head, her eyes defiant. “I don’t want Ari Bell to sing that duet with him.”

  I stared at her for a long moment, letting the words sink in and trying to make sense of them. I knew who Ari Bell was. The newest member of Acadian Storm, the one the paparazzi were asking about in London. “Why? Are you jealous of her? Do you wish you were back with Dean?”

  “No. God, no. It’s nothing like that. I told you, I’m not in love with Dean. I don’t care if he fucks her from here to Sunday. I don’t want her to sing a song that’s so personal to me. Please… try to understand where I’m coming from.” She was pleading with me to understand, but I didn’t. I couldn’t.