by Tijan
I was waiting in Brody’s bed for him. I knew he needed to be at the main house for a bit, to hug his nieces, to talk to his sister-in-law, or whatever else he needed, but I was waiting for him.
And that was when I told him my decision.
“Are you sure?” He could only stare at me.
I was kneeling on his bed, the sheets pulled back already, and I nodded. My heart was in my throat as I nodded. “Yes,” I rasped out. “I’ve lived most of my life with Shiloh and Shoal. It’s time I formed my own family, and if that’s just you and me, I’m ready.”
I didn’t tell him about how I felt like dying when he left or how I sat and watched his car take him away, weeping the whole time.
I hadn’t just cried for him, though.
I had cried for losing my mother.
I had cried for never having a father.
I had cried for the loss of my siblings when my mother died.
I had cried because I had kept Finn, Abby, and Matthew away.
I had cried for closing myself up.
I had cried for turning my humanity off.
When Brody had left that night, I had already been starting to change. I just hadn’t changed enough or quick enough to go with him.
And I waited because I wanted to know if everything would go back to normal. If I would be content again with Shiloh and Shoal, but it never went back to the way it used to be. I think both mares knew I was changing. It was in how they looked at me. They would watch me, waiting for me to leave and not come back.
Bringing those girls back was like I was bringing myself back. I was returning to a life that was interrupted when I was ten years old. I was returning to make my mother proud of me. I was returning to someday have my own little girl.
And that time had come.
It was four weeks later.
Finn and Jen married. Peter was convicted. Matthew took over the Kellerman company.
The day before I was supposed to fly to Iceland with Brody, I spent from sunrise to sunset with the herd. Both Shiloh and Shoal were glued to me. I barely got off Shiloh the whole day. When it was time to go back to the house and to Brody’s arms, I got off Shiloh and walked to Shoal.
She was watching me with those big dark eyes, and as I stepped toward her, she lowered her head. My forehead rested against hers, and I held her face. We stood there a long time, both knowing we wouldn’t see each other again. I would be gone when she would pass, so it was a forever goodbye.
I wept that night like I had when Brody left.
I hadn’t been able to stop crying, even after Shoal stepped back and Shiloh moved into her place. I reached blindly above and lifted myself up to her back, and I couldn’t stop crying in order to see if Shiloh was even taking me the right way, but I knew she was. She always carried me the right way.
Brody was waiting for me when I slid off my sister.
He waited as I threw my arms around her and then pressed my forehead against hers, saying goodbye.
When Shiloh stepped away like Shoal had, Brody stepped forward and swept me up in his arms.
He carried me to bed that night, and my heart ached.
I was starting a brand new life.
“Look,” he said the next morning when we were in the car that would take us to the airport. We were going down our driveway. Gayle was with us, and I heard her gasp before I looked.
The herd was in the woods, running beside us.
Brody opened the window for me. I leaned across his lap and half out the window so they could see me.
Shoal stayed among the herd, but Shiloh veered off so she was the closest to us, still running. We got to the gate and went through, and as we turned left onto the road, the herd went right toward the mountains. They fanned out over a clearing, and I watched until I could no longer see them.
Brody squeezed my hand and leaned over to brush a tear away. “Do you regret coming?”
I ached for them, but there was no regret in my body. I loved him. I chose him. I shook my head because he was my new chapter.
THE END
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I usually struggle with these because I feel like there’s no way I can thank everyone, and I don’t want to forget someone. Or, I’m usually brain-dead at the end of the whole process so anything I write comes out like I’ve invented my own language.
But, here goes!
I started writing a similar story about a girl who’s more comfortable with horses than people a looong time ago, but it didn’t get far. I wasn’t sure where to take it, so it got put on the back burner. Then, a year ago, this extended idea came to me suddenly and it wouldn’t leave me alone. It was haunting me so I sat and outlined it, starting off from that earlier idea. However, I had other projects with more pertinent due dates so it got put off, until finally, I was able to write it, and holy crap, this book came out of me.
I turned off my thinking cap and just let it flow.
This book might be different than my others, but I wanted to share more about the reasons why I wrote Bad Boy Brody.
I call it Brody’s book, but in my heart, it’s more Morgan’s.
I love horses. I grew up with them. I was riding horse by the time I was eight. Taffy (our first mare) was my sister’s, and my God, she was bossy. She had so much attitude and spunk. If we rode with other horses, she always, always, always, had to push her to the front of the line. Then she’d slow down, get distracted by a leaf or some grass. All the horses would go past us again (granted, I would let her do this) and when she realized she was at the end of the line, or I made her join the rest, she’d have to push her way to the front again. That’s just her personality.
Some of my best memories were riding her through a section of white birch trees. It was just beautiful.
Morgan became a culmination of my love for horses, my history with them, my respect for them, and maybe someone I wanted to be when I was a little girl. Some girls had princesses and dolls. I dreamt about being like Morgan.
I want to thank my sister for getting our first mare.
I want to thank my dad for all the work he did in helping make that happen. (Because it was A LOT!)
I want to thank my cousin and my other relatives for all the horses they worked with for horse shows and hooking up their Morgans for parades, for wagon rides, and sleigh rides. It was an experience I realized later in life that’s not normal. Not everyone understands the feel of sitting on a fourteen-hands’ high mare when you’re eight years old and knowing there’s nothing to be scared about because you trust that horse and you trust your dad who has the reins.
I want to thank Crystal for all the help she does for me, because it is A LOT! Thank you to Kerri for reading Brody and giving me feedback. The same for my agent! Thank you to Eileen, Autumn, Heather, Amanda, Christina, and Pam for helping with my groups!!! Thanks to Debra Anastasia for reading Brody early and when she kept professing her love for this book when I started doubting myself. Thank you to all my friends who helped do a giveaway for me and helped spread the word. Thank you to my beta readers and also to my proofreaders: Kara, Amy, Rochelle, and Paige! Thank you to AW Editing for putting up with me and editing this book! Thank you to Elaine, because as I’m typing this, you’re still waiting for me! Thank you to Hang Le for taking an idea I had and creating that cover. It is beautiful! And I love that some people don’t even see Morgan, but I bet you will after you look now.
And last, I want to thank my readers, and especially the ones in my reader group! Your constant images, words, support, everything is just mind-blowing, and in those days when I have nothing more in me to write, you guys give me the ‘more’ I needed. So thank you, from the bottom of my heart.
And with all that said, I think I’m done!!
Tijan
I was surrounded—by champagne, crystal lights, and beautiful people. And I wanted to die.
Not really, but I was huddled in a corner with my
back turned to the party. This was Sia’s job. She was the event coordinator at this art gallery, the Gala. I wasn’t even sure what event she was throwing, but I was here because she asked me to be. This was her thing, a typical Friday night for my best friend. The rich and gorgeous people came together to drink, socialize, throw money at some charity and mainly gossip. This was not my thing, and among all these paintings and socialites, I wanted to disappear.
I moved to Chicago two years ago, but that seemed like a lifetime now. We came for Liam’s job. He was the newest counselor at the Haven Center, but a year ago he was killed, struck by a drunk driver on his way home.
A shudder went through me as I remembered.
Liam had left a message that he was stopping to get flowers—he was a block away. The local florist had a booth in our grocery store. I’d had the genius idea to walk Frankie and meet him at the store. Our dog furry child could wait in the car while we got food together. It was silly, but grocery shopping was a favorite “date” for me. Liam thought it was ridiculous. He always laughed, but he’d humor me. And Frankie loved it. He got out of the house and could wag his tail to his heart’s content in the car. We lived in a nice neighborhood, and it wasn’t too hot, so I trusted our child would still be there when we returned.
When Frankie and I walked around the corner, Liam’s car was waiting to cross the intersection and turn in to the parking lot. He smiled when he saw Frankie and me, and he looked so happy. He’d lifted his hand to wave. So had I. When the light changed, Liam started across—I saw his smile fall away. I saw his hand grab for the steering wheel. I saw the blood drain from his face. He’d started to mouth, “I lo—“
My heart twisted. It was being yanked out, slowly, inch by inch.
As I’d watched, my husband’s car was T-boned by a truck.
I bowed my head and gripped my champagne glass now. I could still hear the sound of metal being smashed, crunching and grinding. Then the car had started in a roll.
Once.
Twice.
It had rolled three times before stopping. He had rolled three times before dying.
The terror—I’ll never get that image out of my mind. His crystal blue eyes, high cheekbones, a face I’d always teased would keep the ladies hitting on him long after he passed fifty, had never looked so scared. Everything happened in slow motion. His eyes went to the truck, and then they found me. Frankie was barking. I couldn’t move. My heart slowed.
I was told later that I’d kept Frankie from running in to traffic, but I have no memory of that. All I can remember is Liam and the look in his eyes when he knew he was going to die.
My future died that day.
“Addison!”
I had one second to ready myself, and I wiped away the tear that had leaked from my eye. Sia rushed to my side, hissing my name in an excited whisper as she grasped my arm. She moved close, turning so she could speak quietly to me but still watch her friends behind us. Her dress grazed my bare arm.
“I just got the best news ever for you! Seriously, I’m gushing like a twelve year old because it’s that damned good.” She paused, her eyes searching my face, and her head moved back an inch. “Wait. What are you doing all the way over here?” She glanced over her shoulder. “The street’s beautiful and all, but the party’s behind you.”
I had to stifle a smile. She wouldn’t understand. I was indeed facing downtown Chicago. Traffic was minimal due to the impending blizzard. Already the snow was falling, piling atop cars, sidewalks, people, and signs.
It was breathtaking. That was the art I appreciated. Sia loved people, or more specifically, she loved connections. She didn’t just see faces when she met them. She saw wealth, their friends, and potential connections. I was the opposite. I seemed to notice everything except those things—or I used to. I had during my Liam era, when my heart was full and open and welcoming. But that was then.
Now I was in the after-Liam era.
Everything was dull. Grey. Black. White.
I sighed. I even depressed myself.
I tuned back in to what Sia was saying. She hadn’t stopped to wait for my response. “…number, and I have to tell you, you’ll love it. It’s one of the most exclusive places I’ve heard about. No one knows about the opening, but I got the number for you. Can you believe it? How amazing a friend am I?” Her eyes sparkled. “I’m fucking amazing, Addison. Ah—”
“Okay, I got it.” I gently pulled her hand off my arm, keeping it in mine.
She squeezed back, her body dancing with excitement.
“Say it again,” I told her. “What’d you get for me?”
She tucked a piece of paper into my palm. Her voice was so hush-hush. “I got the number for one of the most exclusive buildings there is. It’s three blocks from here. There’s never been a vacancy, but there’s one now. The third floor is open.”
“What do you mean, the third floor is open?” I unfolded the paper to find a phone number scrawled on it, nothing else.
“It’s the silver building.”
“The silver…” I looked up at her as it clicked which building she was talking about. It was a building a short walk away, covered entirely in something silver. Sia had first thought it was a business, but once she found out it housed residents, it took on a whole other appeal to her. Her interest was piqued, and when that happens, Sia’s like a detective, going after every tip she gets. Only she couldn’t find any information about it. There was an air of secrecy about who owned it and who lived there, which only added to its appeal.
I’d been hearing about this building for the entire two years I’d known Sia. We’d met early on when Liam and I moved to Chicago, and she’d been the one friend who stuck with me as my life fell apart.
I was speechless for a moment. She’d finally solved her mystery? “Who owns it?”
A grimace flashed over her face, momentarily marring the image of perfection I knew she wanted for tonight. She’d swept her light blond hair up into a bun and rimmed her dark eyes. They looked smoky, but alluring and sexy. Exactly how Sia was. She moved closer to me, pulling her wrap tighter around her shoulders as she checked behind her. No one was looking, so she reached down to tug the front of her ball gown up. It had ridden low, showing a healthy amount of cleavage, but that was Sia. I’d just figured that was the look she was going for.
“That’s the thing,” she said. “I still don’t know, and it’s driving me nuts. You can find out, though.” She clamped on to my arm again. “This was passed to me through a friend of a friend of a friend, but if you call that number, you can request to view the third floor.”
“It sounds expensive.”
“It’s perfect for you.” Her hand moved to her chest. “I can’t afford it, but you totally can. You have the money Liam left you, and you’ve been wanting to get out of that house. I mean, all those memories. I totally get it. I know you’ve been looking to move.”
I was, though it was a shameful secret of mine. Liam had loved our house. We were going to have our family there. The thought of leaving made me feel like I was leaving him. I’d been putting it off for a year, but it was becoming too much. I could feel him in every room. I could hear him laughing. When I was upstairs, I swore he would call my name as if he were just coming home from work. Everything was him—the furniture, the stupid expensive espresso machine he’d vowed we needed to live and then couldn’t figure out how to use. Even his juicer—I still couldn’t believe he’d bought a juicer for us.
My throat closed. The tears were coming, and I had to shut them down. “Yeah, but downtown?” I murmured, my throat raw. “That’s a big change.”
“It’d be amazing. You’d live three blocks from here. I’m here all the time, and my place isn’t far away either. You can cab that easily.” Her eyes were wide and pleading. “Please tell me you’ll call. Do it! Dooo it.”
I glanced back to the number. “What if this is some elaborate scheme to trap people and kill them? You said it yourself: you don’
t know who owns the building. It could be the Russian mob,” I teased.
“Even better!” She rolled her eyes and dismissed that with a wave. “Come on, if it was the Russian mob, I would’ve heard about that. Besides, I heard one of the residents is the CEO of Grove Banking.”
“The CEO?”
“It’s his place in the city.”
“Oh.” Coming downtown was such a hassle. I loved seeing Sia, but I hated coming here as much as I did. But actually living here…
I’d dodge all the parking and traffic. There was something peaceful about living among the finest restaurants, museums, shopping and so much more. And although things were busy during the workday, I knew there were also times when it was quiet. After hours, it was a sanctuary within one of the most active metropolitan areas in the country. “It’ll be so expensive.”
“Your inheritance from Liam is ridiculous. You’ll be comfortable for the rest of your life.”
Yes, my inheritance was ridiculous—but not because it was twenty million dollars, because I’d never known about it. Liam had never told me. In fact, he’d kept all sorts of secrets. I hadn’t known about the wealth until his family told me at his funeral, begrudgingly. I knew his mother had hated doing it. His grandmother had been a household name, as she’d invented a popular kitchen utensil.
I still couldn’t believe it, even though the money had been transferred to my bank account. Most days, Sia was the one who reminded me about it. I had done okay as a freelance writer before he died, enough to have a small nest egg, but I’d had to dip into his inheritance over the last year. Just a bit, but I’d have to dip into it more for that place.
“I’ll call.” Sia took the piece of paper from me. “I’ll set it up. We’ll go together to see it. You won’t be alone, and that way I get to see inside that glorious piece of heaven. You can decide afterwards.”
I gave her a rueful look. If I saw it, and it was gorgeous, I’d probably want it. I liked to live simply, but I did appreciate beauty. And evidently I could afford it.