Yes to Everything

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Yes to Everything Page 33

by Shayne McClendon


  Decklan took her hand and she tugged it into the valley of her breasts. “If you were frustrated, he kissed you out of it, Brooke. He never liked seeing you sad or angry. So with all those things we saw on the outside, you’re telling us he’d rather you cry alone and in pain than decorate the tree with people who love you? Especially your little sisters who so loved the Christmases they got to have with Rex? Biker Santa was the funniest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

  He grinned down at her, “He bought us blow up dolls, Brooke. Yeah, we thought it was amusing. Plus, they were holding Super Bowl tickets so it was all good.”

  She smiled at the memory since she’d walked in on him blowing up the dolls and had tilted her head in confusion. The expression on his face, caught mid-exhale blowing up a sex doll had been priceless. His first words had been, “I can explain…”

  When she shared that memory with them, the three of them laughed. Brooke asked softly, “How do things seem so clear to you when it all seems so sad and foggy to me?”

  “Oh, Brooke, it’s mainly because we’re on the outside. Also, watching you is our hobby. We looked up to Rex, studied the way he treated the people in his life, especially you. I feel like we’d know more what he’d want for you than even Mack would. Don’t ask any more questions. Your sisters are waiting, honey. Do you think you’re okay to head back inside?” Logan’s voice was quiet, controlled, and Brooke sensed there was much he wasn’t saying.

  She stared at him for a long moment and he leaned over to kiss her chastely on her lips. Turning her head to Decklan, she waited and he did the same. Squeezing their hands, she whispered, “Thank you. I needed to be still. You were always able to take my mind off things. It was other areas where we had our problems.”

  Brooke sighed and picked up their hands, kissing their knuckles, sitting up. They were up and pulling her to her feet in moments. “I’m glad you…you both talk to me again. I missed you very much after the first tour.”

  Logan held onto her hand, his voice intense, “Brooke, we never stopped talking to you, honey.” He glanced at his brother, mentally reviewing how they’d treated her after the first tour, when she was so deeply in love with Rex it seemed to glow around her.

  The envy they’d felt at how effortlessly he made her happy. She was secure in his love for her even if Rex sometimes wondered why she was with him. They had seen the evidence of his doubt before shows, after photo shoots. The brothers had pulled back for him because he deserved her and they didn’t.

  Brooke stared into the distance, remembering how they’d expanded the emotional gap she’d put in place to protect her heart. “You stopped being real. Everything was shallow crap meant to kill an awkward thirty seconds before show time. You stopped looking me in the eye, stopped holding my hands before a concert, avoided me unless I had the kids. You’d talk to them but not me.” Brooke swallowed hard. “It…it hurt my feelings. I’m glad you’re speaking to me again.”

  “We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, Brooke. We didn’t. It was…god, we can’t go there right now. We’ll talk more another time, a better time. Let’s get you back inside before you freeze or they all think we’re taking advantage.” Decklan bent and picked up the blanket, going to the fence as Brooke stared after him with her head tilted.

  Glancing up at Logan, she said, “I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m sorry.”

  She walked to the fence and climbed it, walking to the house with her hands in her pockets. She’d gone immediately to the piano and played Jingle Bells, trying to bring back the earlier mood. The kids caught it and she faked it, her friends unsure what to say or do. She wasn’t okay but she was so much better than she had been. Logan and Decklan picked up instruments and played with her, staring at her while she played with her eyes closed.

  Since last Christmas, they’d touched her more but never inappropriately, never with seduction in mind. As time passed, she wasn’t sure if she was relieved or disappointed. It seemed her mind, heart, and body, were all in conflict over Logan and Decklan’s place in her life.

  She’d agreed to partially going back to work last spring using the original studio in Dallas. The first session, Brooke had been amazed at the changes to the grounds. Twelve-foot-high fencing topped with barbed wire surrounded the building and parking lot. There was a guard gate with two armed attendants who’d been happy to meet her and assured her no one would get through who wasn’t part of the staff. Thanking them, she’d been more surprised by the security measures taken inside the building.

  Informed by the receptionist that the glass for the building had been upgraded to handle the impact of a .50 caliber round, she was given a map showing the safe rooms on each floor. The young woman was new since the last time she’d been here.

  “There’s a security checkpoint at the entrance to the grounds, here at the building main entry, and on each of the three floors, Miss Kincaid. Additional cameras have been installed so every inch of space is recorded and monitored. Connor is going to show you up to the studios. My name is Nicole. If you need anything at all, you let me know. May I also say, you look lovely and it’s wonderful to see you out in the world again. Everyone here is rooting for you, ma’am.”

  Thanking her quietly, she’d followed her escort to the studio she’d used the day she’d met Travis and the twins for the first time. She felt a sense of nostalgia that clenched her heart. Connor smiled as he opened the door and the technicians caught sight of her.

  Her own bodyguard had driven her down and shadowed her now, stepping forward when they would have swarmed her in greeting. Putting her hand on the arm of the huge black man she was certain would give his life to protect her should it ever came to that, she whispered, “It’s alright, Leo. I know everyone here.” They’d hugged her and there were tears but not as many with more than a year buffering her from Rex’s death.

  Every day she got stronger.

  A few minutes later, Travis and the twins entered the studio. “You’re early, darlin’,” Travis murmured as he wrapped her in a hug. “I don’t know why that should surprise me. You always liked bein’ ahead of the game.” He stepped back and held her upper arms in his hands. “You ready, Brooke?”

  She nodded, accepted hugs from the twins, and got to work.

  The record label had accepted and even encouraged Broken Bronco’s hiatus from the public eye. They’d taken two summers off from touring but finished then released the album that had been almost finished when Rex was killed. A bonus track featured her cover of She Talks to Angels and Brooke had cried when she heard it.

  Since the album dropped, it had gone platinum even without a tour to plug it. Travis had arranged small venues within a couple of hours from her home to ease Brooke back into performing live. At first afraid, she’d quickly realized how much she needed music in her life and it was gradually starting to heal her.

  Over the past three months, Travis had started booking them a little further from home, slowly pulling her from her comfort zone in southwest Oklahoma. He booked Broken Bronco at small clubs and theaters in New Orleans, Houston, and San Antonio.

  Every performance, even with exorbitant ticket prices set by the venues, was sold out within minutes of being announced. They used the twins’ tour bus when they traveled and the security was insane but appreciated. Even if the label hadn’t insisted, Travis and the Bradshaws were taking no chances with her safety.

  Turning back toward the house, Brooke wondered at the restlessness she was feeling but ignored it, despite Buttercup’s aggravation at being held back. There was always enough work to keep her mind occupied. An occupied mind didn’t have time to dwell on things like love lost or guilt about desires that shouldn’t exist. Allowing a light canter, she shut her mind to pathways she didn’t want to remember and numbed her mind to a future she couldn’t have.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Christmas 2011…

  Since Thanksgiving, the Kincaids’ home had been overrun with friends. Brooke was positive
Rex’s three friends had discussed a schedule to ensure at least one of them was in residence at all times during the holidays.

  It was obvious no one wanted her to be alone but since having the Marines visiting also meant having her best friends close at hand, she couldn’t protest their overprotective tendencies.

  A week before Christmas, Sidney’s men booked an entire floor of an exclusive and highly secured Dallas hotel for three days. They’d taken her to every decent store within a three mile radius with their large entourage in tow. It seemed so normal, Christmas shopping and stopping to eat lunch, then dinner as the day got away from them and stomachs started growling. She hadn’t eaten so much in a very long time.

  The Bradshaws talked her into seeing a movie, choosing a comedy and smiling as she laughed all the way through it. Sitting on either side of her, the brothers made Brooke hold the popcorn which gave them the excuse they needed to lean toward her constantly. Though flushed, she didn’t move away and didn’t withdraw emotionally.

  As the credits rolled and the lights came up, several people recognized them and approached for autographs. Pulling her out into the open lobby, they guarded her between them while her protection detail kept all of them from being overwhelmed by the quickly gathering crowd.

  One young woman stepped forward and told her what a big fan she was. When Brooke thanked her, she added quietly, “I think you’re the strongest woman I’ve ever seen in my life, Miss Kincaid. You finally look like you’re healing and I bet Mr. Black would be so proud of you. We’re all rooting for you, wanting to see you come back.”

  The brothers felt Brooke go completely still between them and were shocked when she said softly, “I’m working on it, I’m not as strong as I wish I was, but thank you for saying he’d be proud.” Pulling one of her cards from her pocket, she handed it to the girl. “Call the number and we’ll send you out a tour bag.”

  She backed up slightly and the brothers told everyone they had to go and thanked them for stopping to say hello. Waving, they were hustled from the mall and into the waiting limo.

  Decklan touched her face as he took her hand. “You alright, honey?” She nodded and exhaled slowly. “You do better and better every time you get out of the house, Brooke. Take it one step at a time.” Her fingers tightened on his and she gave him another nod.

  Logan stroked her hair until they reached the hotel and everyone settled in to visit and eat the huge meal Jeanette had ordered. She’d already checked on the kids who’d been left with Kate on Brooke’s ranch. Mack had his own team watching over them. Everyone’s shopping was done and they decided to head back so they could be there when the kids woke up.

  Brooke dozed throughout the drive, alternately leaning on the brothers and wrapping her hands around their arms. The others were impressed with the Bradshaws’ control with the object of their desire so close.

  Reaching the quiet house close to midnight, they nudged Brooke awake and she looked confused for a moment. Giving them a careful smile, she made it into the house and went to check her sisters and Sofia before she took a shower. Avoiding her reflection in the mirror, she slipped on sleep pants and a tank top with thick socks to battle the chill of the wood floors and walked the house.

  Sidney and her men were already settled upstairs and Mack had gone to feed Sofia. Jeanette sat at the big farmer’s table with a cup of coffee waiting for her. “Sit with me, pretty girl.” Sliding into the chair and pulling her knees up, she sipped her coffee, relishing the warmth. “How are you, Brooke?”

  “Lonely.” The answer had left her mouth before she’d thought and regret flashed over her face. “I…I’m sorry.”

  Slender, capable hands settled over hers. “Brooke, why do you edit everything you say? Why are you so worried about being honest? Don’t you know you’re loved and accepted unconditionally?” Her closest friend, the woman who’d saved her from desperate loneliness, was ready to come back to the world of the living and Jeanette could tell the desire to live again was consuming her with guilt.

  In a low broken whisper, Brooke confessed, “I…I’m forgetting how he smelled, the taste of his kiss. Two years and things I thought I would remember for the rest of my life are fading, Jeanette.”

  “You will never forget the love you shared with Rex, Brooke. He’ll have a piece of your heart always. No matter who you go on to love, it doesn’t lessen what you had together. It’s your guilt holding you back. It isn’t Rex.”

  Sighing, she took another sip of her coffee. “I know it is. On a rational level, I do know.” Setting the mug on the table, she tried a smile, “Now, I have to wrap presents.”

  “Why? Why didn’t you let the stores gift-wrap them for you? I don’t get it!”

  Snorting, Brooke answered, “Kincaid tradition. Adults wrap on Christmas Eve and show up bleary-eyed to watch them opened.” One delicate shoulder lifted in a shrug, “Honestly, I don’t know. The thought of wrapping their gifts myself, just seemed like the right thing to do.”

  Jeanette stood and hugged her hard, kissing her hair. “I’m going to get some sleep. Sofia’s been running a small fever so I want to be alert if she wakes up.” Leaning back, she tweaked her chin, “I sure do love you, Brooke. You’re the best sister a woman could ask for and Sidney can be our scrappy, spider monkey sister.”

  They laughed together and soon Brooke was alone in the kitchen, sipping her coffee. Nights were always harder for her. Restless and alone, she had to keep her mind occupied to avoid the ache taking over. Grabbing supplies and the bags of gifts, she got to work, happy for the distraction.

  At three in the morning, she put the gifts under the tree over several trips between the kitchen and music room. Stepping back, she found herself staring down at Decklan’s bare chest as he slept. Logan was further in the shadows on the other sofa, not touched by the light she left on in the hallway.

  In sleep, they were even more beautiful if that was possible. Dark lashes created crescent shadows on his tanned cheek, his hair tousled, his body relaxed more than either brother ever was while awake.

  They’d crashed here last night instead of going upstairs to her old room that now held two queen beds. She wondered why and an instant later, she knew. Her bedroom, where she lived, was on the first floor. They wanted to be closer to her, just in case she needed them during the night.

  Her heart clenched, her eyes burned with unshed tears, and she needed air.

  The brothers were the first to realize Becca and Molly were up the next morning. Probably because it was six in the morning, the girls were screaming, and the tree was in the music room…where they’d been sound asleep moments before. Rubbing their faces blearily, their eyes tracked to the open doorway. Brooke held a tray with steaming cups of coffee on it.

  “What a woman. Gimme.” Logan didn’t mince words and fell silent until he’d taken several sips of the rich brew.

  Decklan managed a small smile, “Angels are real.” His groan at the first sip was unintentionally sensual and sent a flare of heat through Brooke’s blood. She sat at the end of the couch Decklan was sleeping on, lifting his feet into her lap and sipping her own coffee groggily.

  Her own sleep had been fitful. Without realizing, she was absently stroking the top of his bare foot. Suddenly aware, she froze and glanced at his face. He was staring at her hard and she watched as he picked up a throw pillow and put it over his lap, never breaking eye contact with her.

  Logan stood to stretch a moment later in nothing but his jeans, rubbing his hands through his hair with a yawn. Brooke’s eyes went slowly down his torso and back up to meet his eyes. They were filled with sparking hunger.

  “Have y’all been working out fourteen hours a day or what?” she whispered.

  “Sometimes,” they answered just as quietly. Decklan sat up and put down their coffee so he could scoot Brooke closer to him. He handed her back the mug and Logan sat on her other side. Instantly hot, aching need shot through her body and she clamped her control in place. If the
re was anything she understood, it was controlling her physical reaction to the Bradshaws. It didn’t matter that their bare chests, warm golden skin over sculpted muscle, were touching her bare arms. She concentrated on her coffee.

  The girls were searching out everyone’s gifts and putting them in piles. Gradually, everyone else drifted downstairs. Sidney grumbled as she entered the room, “This hour is ungodly. My bears are right behind me. Girls, you owe me big for not letting them tickle you until you passed out. Who the hell gets up this early? There is something wrong with you people.”

  She came across the room and kissed the Bradshaws with a “Merry Christmas” then took Brooke’s face in her hands and said, “Merry Christmas to the prettiest and sweetest woman I know.” Her smacking lip kiss was followed by a wink.

  Just in time since Boyd and Zane made their entrance, grabbed up Becca and Molly, and promptly flipped them upside down with bouncing shakes. “Why aren’t you sleeping? Why are you screaming?” The girls were laughing so hard that Becca drooled, which only made them laugh harder. “Merry. Merry. Christmas. Little. Ones.”

  They punctuated each word with a twisting bounce and then Molly shouted, “Oh god, I have to pee! Put me down, Uncle Boyd!” He did immediately and she continued to laugh as she ran for the nearest bathroom.

  Zane set Becca down with a kiss to the top of her head and both men came to crouch in front of Brooke. “Merry Christmas, Brooke.” She wished them the same and they rose to kiss her cheeks and stroke her hair before shaking the hands of each Bradshaw brother.

  Plopping on one of the small sofas, they yanked Sidney over their laps and warned her not to get used to them being up at the ‘crack of ass’. She promised she’d never be able to handle it either.

 

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