by Bowie, Emily
Bittersweet Moments
STEELE FAMILY SERIES
BOOK 3
EMILY BOWIE
Bittersweet Moments
Copyright © 2019 Emily Bowie
Kindle Edition
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be produced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photography, recording or other electronic or mechanical methods, without prior written consent of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Resemblance to actual persons, things, living or dead, locales or events is entirely coincidental.
Editing: Hot tree editing
Cover Design by: jersey girl designs
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Title Page
Copyright Page
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Other books by Emily Bowie
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Not all true love has that fairytale magic. Happily ever after can be bittersweet.
CHAPTER 1
My tiny car slows. The midnight sky is black like ink, with red and blue lights removing any of the beauty it could hold. My hands shake as I hold the steering wheel.
Breathe in. Breathe out, I remind myself.
My mocha eyes are red and puffy from crying the whole way down to Three Rivers. Loose honey-colored tendrils fall into my face from the knotted hair that sits high on top of my head. I already know no filter would be able to erase the anguish carved into my features.
My mind fumbles with the sight in front of me, playing out like the premonition my family tried to paint for me. The thought makes me start to cry all over again. The backcountry road should be deserted this late at night, making a peaceful drive. Instead, cop cars line the Steeles’ long ranch driveway, the odd siren ringing out, and I can see yellow tape flapping on the edge, containing the area. The wind makes the trees rustle under its touch, scraping at each other, but those sounds are muffled by the shouts and commotion just off to the side of my car.
What was I thinking?
That’s the problem—I followed my heart instead of listening to myself.
My trembling hand goes to my side to pick up the bundle of tissue lying there for me to wipe my face. I inch my car up more as I angle my whole torso to get a better look down the driveway where an ambulance sits at the end, right in front of the ranch house. Everyone seems to have a place to be as they scurry around the area. Putting my car in Park, my hand lets go of the steering wheel to rub my tummy. I can’t take my eyes off the reality set in front of me.
Brax Steele and I are too different from each other. He’s this strong country rancher and I am a prisoner amongst my family. Swallowing what feels like blades of pain, I realize I’ve created a situation I may not be able to break free from.
I love Brax too much, and I hate that we could never work. It would be impossible for us to stay together.
I try to convince myself, knowing my family wants nothing to do with anyone they think is below them or won’t aid in their quest for more power. My family surname alone would never allow me to truly be free here. My father would make sure to use me as another move in his game of corruption and politics. The game follows me around like a dark shadow.
My parents didn’t raise a fool. I had to learn at a young age how to read a situation and react accordingly. The sight of ambulances and cop cars screams for me to run, knowing this is a type of scene my parents will hear about, fueling their punishment for me.
I naturally like taking care of others. It gives me something to focus on other than myself. The thought that Brax or one of his family members could be hurt eats at me further. But I know as soon as my eyes set on him that everything will dissolve and I will fall into his arms, not caring what my family thinks.
Shocking my system, a flash of light hits my eyes. A cop car races up the driveway, swerving erratically while trying not to hit anything along its path. My body instinctively throws itself deep into my soft cloth seat, my eyes closing, praying the car can’t hit me if I can’t see it. I feel my head jar from hitting the headrest behind it. I only realize I’ve been screaming when my own voice echoes back at me. When I don’t feel my car rock from any type of impact, I quickly take a survey of myself. Relief hits me that I’m perfectly fine. I try to rein my heart in from erratically beating, only for more cars to fly from the dark, passing me like I don’t exist.
That’s all it takes for me to make my decision. Wrenching my wheel around, I put my shifter in Drive and press on my gas, making a sharp U-turn, following the other black tire marks on the road before heading back home. I will not put myself or anyone else at risk. There’s no reason why the Steeles’ ranch should be swarming with an army of cops. My parents already forced me to read everything about the Steeles that hit the local paper five years ago. Murders and trials line the land’s history—proving history does repeat itself. Making my parents right, and I hate it. I wanted them to be wrong so badly.
My hands tremor like mini earthquakes as I press Brax’s phone number, making the phone call I hoped I’d never have to make. One I thought I’d never make.
My one hand rests at my stomach as silent tears roll down my face. If I don’t do this, I will lose everything. It’s a risk I will not chance, not anymore. It’s not only me I have to think about. I cry harder knowing I’m giving up on the love of my life. I remind myself it’s the only choice I have.
Taking another deep breath in, I school my emotions as I learned at a young age. Crying gets you nowhere. It only makes you look weak.
“Hello?” Brax’s deep voice sends a tingle up my spine.
“Brax.” A ghost of a whisper comes out as I force the sob that wants to escape back down.
“Where are you? Are you okay?” The concern in his voice shatters my already broken heart.
All my thoughts mush together, colliding as they want to explode out of me, but I have no voice to express any of it. My head shakes as the car stays silent. Gathering my courage, I open my mouth, hoping my voice comes out stronger than I actually feel.
“I turned around, because of all of the commotion happening at your place.” He begins to talk, but I cut him off. If I don’t say this now, I may never do it. Then, not only my life will be destroyed, but everything that is Brax will be gone too. “This isn’t working. I can’t do this an
ymore.”
Silence takes over my small car before he grunts.
Sorry. Please forgive me one day.
I want to scream out but never do. The air sits heavy, making me hold onto the steering wheel harder. The highway is blurry from all of the tears I’ve shed.
“Is there someone else?”
My heart stops working, hearing the accusation in his voice. It’s only ever been him. I open my mouth, but no words can escape past the sorrow that wraps around my throat.
Easing one hand off the wheel, I wipe the waterfall of tears from my face, trying to hide my sniffle of pain.
“No, you’re just not what I want any more,” I lie.
My chest feels like an elephant is sitting on it. I can hear Brax breathing through the phone, but there is no exchange of words. We sit like this for a couple minutes. Neither one of us saying a word. I don’t know how much longer I can stay on the line, yet I can’t make myself be the one to hang up. I crave him more than ever.
“So, we’re over?” he finally speaks, crushing me. It’s silly to think that when in fact it’s me breaking everything off. But he doesn’t know my family as I do. They would eat us both alive. Once they were done, we would never recognize each other, while blaming one another for our failures. We would turn into my parents. That is the best-case scenario. I don’t want to even consider the worst case.
“Yes.” My answer crackles. I hate myself so much; he will never understand.
“Take care, Raya.”
I pull my lips in to keep all of my sounds of sorrow to myself. He seems so cold and unaffected it hurts.
I deserve this.
He doesn’t even say goodbye as he disconnects us.
CHAPTER 2
All I can think about is how Kellen did it fucking again. Five years ago, cops swarmed our place, because my girlfriend was shot on our property. My brother was sentenced for her murder.
Again, police line our property. Another body is hauled away. Both times, he pulled the trigger, both times uprooting my life like never before. And yet he gets to go upstairs to the girl of his dreams while mine leaves me.
I can’t say I’ve ever been lucky in love. It seems like fate has a way of ripping love away from me. I try not to hate Kellen in this moment as I think about him getting away with murder, and each time, I lose the girl I think I can see a future with.
Whether anyone of them was actually right for me is not important. It’s that I had no say. And fuck if I didn’t think Raya was the one. I finally allowed myself to feel that I could be happy. My body is tense as I try to restrain myself from going upstairs and pulling Kellen out of bed with the love of his life, just to hit him. Showing him that his decisions affect me more than him. Why did his actions have to trickle down to everyone else? He’s always been the lucky one, prevailing no matter the consequences and landing on top.
Taking a seat on the old wooden rocker on our porch, I look out over our ranch. I can see the sun slowly trying to escape from below the horizon. It flashes colors of red and orange as it peeks over the valley. Yellow police tape overtakes our yard; tire tread marks mar our once isolated piece of property. The palms of my hands rub my blue eyes flecked with gray. The cold from my palms is welcome, blocking out the first rays of the day. Today was a long fucking day.
I know what Raya and I had was real. I can still hear her sweet voice that makes my heart melt every time. I can feel the way her body fits perfectly to mine. We were one of those couples who never fought; it was perfection each time we saw each other.
In the back of my mind, the signs this was coming were there, but I chose to ignore them, thinking we were stronger than that. Her coming up with excuses for not moving here, the failed attempts for her to visit, her keeping me a secret from her family. The last part baffles me. We’re grown-ups, with our own lives. At what point do you just say “I am my own person. To hell with what my family thinks”?
Pulling out my cell phone, I go to look at the last picture I took of the two of us. She is smiling so brightly as I kiss her cheek. Her mocha-colored eyes stare back at me from the picture. The next photo is one my sister Shay sent me. It’s of Raya and me holding each other while staring into each other’s eyes. I can see the love possessed in this picture. It screams and echoes it like a yodeler on top of a mountain.
Leaning back, I’m speechless and angry as hell. She blindsided me. I have her diamond ring in my top drawer, waiting for her to make it down here. I was building us a home and future. I saw us in a small white church, coming home to a house with a white picket fence, living out my fantasies.
But that’s all it was. I was living a dream, and she wasn’t in it like I was.
Picking up my phone again, I start deleting everything about her. Each and every picture. If she wants to erase herself from my life, I have no problem doing the same.
I feel suckered for listening to her lies. I’m a fool for thinking we were something more. I hate her for destroying my future I was working so hard to create. My emotions swirl like a tornado as each memory begins to be sucked up, creating a black haze where they used to be. I need them out of my life, because it hurts too much.
Getting up, I walk into my kitchen, needing some coffee with a punch to it. This is how I plan to forget her. Going up to the cabinet, I take out the hard liquor reserved for guests and pour it into my coffee.
CHAPTER 3
Our large black metal gate opens at the sight of my car. I have no doubt my father is watching me pull in. Letting out a sigh, I’m all out of tears. I shed all I had on the way home. I can see my mother standing outside our door, her arms crossed. Even with her scowl, she is breathtaking and forever put together. The same golden locks as mine are freshly blown out, her outfit carefully picked. I feel myself cast a perplexed look at her unaged face. She looks furious that she might have to act like a mother. Mothering was never her forte. She excelled in planning social dinners and sweet-talking the guests so that they were putty in my dad’s hands.
I tug at my old ratty sweater, the one that still has Brax’s lingering scent, before I push my loose pieces of hair up. Stepping out of my car, I avoid her eyes, only to hear her scolding voice.
“I have no idea why you would want to drive that car when we have at least five respectable ones in the garage.”
I had to fight tooth and nail to get this car when I went to college, wanting to not stand out. It is a piece of my freedom, my independence I refuse to let go of. It was the one time in my life I felt like me.
“You’re not the one driving it. I don’t see why it should bother you,” I retort, void of emotion since I’m too tired to show any anger or annoyance. I allow for my shoulders to slump, knowing it must be killing my mother not to mention my imperfect posture.
“It casts a bad light on the family. People think we can’t afford to give you the finer things.”
“Oh, Mother, I doubt that. You show them your castle and the ten cars that sit collecting dust at each of your parties.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I can see her step back, acting as if I slapped her.
“It’s that boy.” She waves her tiny finger at me, like you would while lecturing a child.
“I think you mean man.” I honestly try not to engage with my mother, but she keeps digging her way under my skin, making it crawl so much that I need to itch her out.
I take a deep breath, feeling out of sorts. I’ve spent most of my life trying to live up to the expectations my parents have created for me, only to realize I will never make the cut. I have too much ambition combined with a tendency to lead rather than follow.
Her words hush—for what reason, I have no idea. Nothing in this house is a secret. There are spies and cameras everywhere. “I think it’s time you grow up a bit, Raya. You could go live out your life happily if you took a nice husband.”
“Nice husband” means one of my dad’s associates. Someone who would further him in his quest for more power.
“
If you want a stable, you can have one.” She sounds exasperated, unable to view the world like me. This is where she’s wrong. It’s not the stable or ranch or the damn animals I want. It’s always been Brax. I want him. Unlike my mother, I don’t care about the materialistic things in life.
Her words soften as she takes a step toward me. “Think about it, honey.” Her perfectly manicured hands go to my shoulders, giving me a gentle squeeze. “Your dad’s waiting to see you.”
So that’s the catch, why she started to sound as motherly as she ever will be. Sweeten me up for Dad so I’m easier to move around as his pawn. I should have seen that coming faster.
Nodding, I step into our grand entrance. A crystal chandelier hangs high in the ceiling, casting small rainbows on the white marble floors. The house is large and lifeless but beautiful. Priceless art hang on the wall as conversation pieces and to gloat that my family has had them in their possession for centuries.
I take my time walking up each stair as it spirals upward toward my father’s office. Each step gives a grander vision of the front of our house, another showstopper view.
My father’s right-hand man walks out as I place my knuckles up to knock, opening the room to me. I refuse to look at him, holding my head up high, ready to face the patriarch of the family.
As I walk into the large room, it has a faint smell of cigars. Pictures of my dad with all prominent political people line the walls, showcasing his blackmail trophies to gloat over. His desk is an impressive mahogany, his presence behind it looking distinguished, much like a king in his throne room.
I stand here, refusing to take the large chair his eyes travel to as a nonverbal cue. Watching me with an amused expression, he leans back in his large black leather chair behind his massive wooden desk. His one finger strums up and down, like he can’t put his finger on what to do about me.
“It’s a little early to be arriving home, isn’t it?” His tone carries agitation within it, his bushy salt-and-pepper eyebrow rising up in question.