by Lex Martin
“Mrs. Mac babysits for us a lot. She loves Izzy.” Izzy. I’ve never called her that before.
As though Brady recognizes that, his eyes warm. “C’mon. I’m going to pass out if we don’t eat something soon. Aren’t you hungry? We didn’t eat breakfast, and it’s almost two.”
That’s true. I fed the baby and spent the rest of the morning packing her diaper bag and getting both of us dressed.
Once we’re in the truck, I lean my head against the window.
“You’re shivering.”
I hadn’t noticed, but he’s right. I wrap my arms around my waist.
Brady turns up the heat as I stare at the dark clouds blanketing the sky. A low rumble of thunder echoes in the distance, and goose bumps spread down my arms. It’s going to rain. I used to love the rain.
Not any more.
Both of us are wiped out, so he says he’ll order a pizza when we get home.
Without Izzy’s chatter, it’s eerily quiet when we walk in the house. Neither of us bothers to turn on the lights, and with a storm rolling in, it’s dark in here. My heels break the silence, clacking along the hard wood floor.
I head toward my room, certain that Brady wants to be alone like he did yesterday, but then he calls out my name. Pausing in the doorway of my bedroom, I turn to look at him.
He’s loosened his tie and looks utterly beautiful in his suit. Scruffy and tired, hands shoved into his pockets, like he’s been at the office all afternoon. Someday, one lucky girl will get to come home to this. Inwardly, I sigh.
His lips flatten. “You okay?”
I shrug. I don’t have words to describe what I’m feeling right now.
His head cants to the side as he studies me, his green eyes magnetic. I get the impression he wants to say something, but then he looks away.
It’s funny how he could wrap his arms around me and kiss my forehead while we were surrounded by a hundred people, but get us alone, and I get the distinct impression I make him uncomfortable.
He clears his throat. “Thanks for setting everything up today. You did a great job.”
“You paid for it. I just made a few phone calls.”
“Kat, c’mon. You keep this place running, and the way you jumped in and took care of the details for today means a lot to me.”
“No problem. I’m happy to help.”
We stare at each other, and I can’t stop thinking about how good it felt when he hugged me today. I want to thank him for being so sweet, but the words get lodged in my throat because the vibe between us right now is so painfully awkward.
Probably because you cried hysterically. What was he supposed to do?
But then he shifts and rubs the back of his neck, a cute smile on his face as he motions toward the office. “Wanna hang out? The pizza should be here soon, and we could watch a movie or something.”
Part of me feels like we shouldn’t spend more time together. Like we’re crossing some kind of boundary after everything we shared today. But do I really want to be alone in my room right now? Besides, we’re talking about pizza, which is harmless.
That dimple peeks out, making my heart skitter and weakening my resistance.
“Sure. Give me a few minutes, and I’ll meet you in the office.”
Tonight. You should tell him about Cal’s accident. He needs to know what really happened.
I take a deep breath. Yes, tonight. Because telling him is the right thing to do.
When I join him, he’s changed out of his suit and is wearing some worn jeans and a black t-shirt that stretches across his hard chest. I glance down at my dress. I should’ve changed too, but all I could manage was kicking off my heels and pulling on some fuzzy slippers.
Brady motions toward my feet. “Cute.” He gives me a goofy grin that somehow dispels whatever weirdness we’ve had brewing since yesterday.
Maybe it’s because I’ve been crying all day. Or maybe it’s because I haven’t slept in a week, but I’m so grateful that we survived this afternoon and are gonna hang out, I’m practically lightheaded.
“They’re all the rage,” I joke as I pose in my hot pink poofy house slippers. They’re made out of a furry material Izzy likes to pet. “You’re just jealous. You know you want a pair.”
He laughs. “Is it that obvious?”
“Big, tough guys always want hot pink house slippers.” I sit next to him, nudging him with my shoulder. “Don’t worry. Your secret’s safe with me.”
It feels good to be talking to him again.
He nudges me back. “I was about to have a drink, but now I’m worried you’ll get me to confess all of my deep, dark secrets.” That’s when I notice the bottle of tequila on the coffee table and two shot glasses. He pours one and looks at me. “It’s been a fucked-up day, and I was planning to get blasted. But not so tanked that I end up in my underwear on the neighbor’s lawn.”
“Meh, I’ve already seen you in your underwear.” I wave at him nonchalantly. “Nothing special going on there.” He barks out a laugh, and I giggle. “Okay, I’m lying. There’s a lot there.” I bulge my eyes meaningfully, and he looks down, still laughing, his cheeks turning the slightest tinge of pink.
I don’t know where my bravado is coming from, but for once, I don’t feel so dang uptight. I’m sure I’ll be embarrassed as hell tomorrow, but today has been so stressful, and I’m too tired to care. He’ll just have to deal with crazy Katherine.
“We’re back to boner jokes, I see.” He snickers.
“I can get a lot of mileage out of a good boner.” We look at each other and then crack up. “Okay, that sounded really bad. I’m shutting up now.”
“You’re a goof.” He pours two shots and holds one out to me.
After we toss them back, I slouch down on the couch. I close my eyes and let the alcohol seep through my veins.
He pours another round, and as I start to bring it to my lips, he nudges me again. “Sorry if I was kind of a dick this week. I know we don’t know each other well, but I swear I’m not always so moody.”
I can feel his eyes rake over me, but I can’t quite bring myself to look at him. “You weren’t a dick at all. You’re a really good guy. The best.” For some reason, those last few words sound breathy. I take a sip of my tequila, knowing I need to slow down or he’ll have to peel me off the floor in a little while. Kicking off my slippers, I tuck my legs underneath me.
“Are you cold?” He leans over the couch, giving me a whiff of his sexy woodsy scent, and tosses a fleece blanket over my shoulders.
“Thank you. I don’t know why I keep shivering.”
He sits back down on the couch and stares at the blank flat screen TV. “Today was a little traumatic. This is your body’s way of dealing with it.”
My mind feels fuzzy, like an empty chalkboard after all the words have been erased and there’s just a blur of white powder left.
I feel like I should try to come up with something to talk about, but honestly, just sitting here with him feels nice when my head has that post-hysteria throb behind my eyes.
Brady leans forward to pour another shot, and I take a moment to admire the way his shoulder muscles tug at his t-shirt, showcasing those sexy tattoos that decorate his arms.
I’ve never particularly liked tattoos, but I’d have to be blind to not see the appeal here. They scream of confidence. Of not giving a damn about what other people think. Of wanting to carve your own path in life. And I get that. I so get that.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “Can I ask you something?”
“Yup.” My whole body feels like I’m melting into the couch. Mmm. Tequila.
“Cal left me a message the night of the accident.” That statement hangs in the air, and my insides clench as I wait for him to continue. "I was exhausted. It had been a long day, and I didn’t want to argue with him, so I didn’t return his call. But now, not knowing what he wanted to tell me is agonizing.”
I struggle to swallow. “I’m so sorry.” I think about w
hat he’s asking me. “Cal probably called to tell you about Mel’s pregnancy. He felt bad because he knew you were waiting for him to come home. He thought he’d be able to go to Boston for a few months to help your parents, but then Mel found out she was pregnant, and he couldn’t leave her. I offered to stay with her, but I don’t think he was comfortable not being here in case anything went wrong.”
“That’s understandable. I would never leave my pregnant wife either.”
See, there are good guys out there. “Exactly. So my guess is he probably wanted to give you an update.”
He takes a shot of the tequila, hissing afterward. “I was such a dick to Cal. I helped him pay for these business courses in Austin. I thought it would help him get focused. He was always a little flighty. Always had his head in the clouds. I was worried about him. That he’d wander through life without a plan. But when he didn’t come home, when he and Melissa eloped, I was so pissed. I just assumed everything he was doing here was a joke.”
I’m not sure what to say, so I don’t say anything. Finally, he shakes his head. “The irony is that I was telling a friend of mine to go for her dreams. To take chances. To do what she loved. And the whole time, I was being an asshole to Cal, pressuring him to figure out his shit.” A sad laugh leaves him. “I can think of a hundred other things he should have studied instead of business.”
I have to admit I’m wildly curious about her, the friend, but I ignore it to focus on what he’s saying about his brother. “If it’s any consolation, Cal really did help Mel organize her finances. The farm is still struggling because we had a lot of rain last winter, which affected the crops, but he helped her create a budget and set up her accounting system so her bill payments wouldn’t be late any more. And he helped me get her bath products online.”
He rolls his lips between his teeth and stares into his glass of tequila like it holds all the answers. “And he made a will. Only someone who's thinking long term makes a will.”
I nod as I think about what I need to tell Brady. The idea suffocates me, like it's a physical entity tightening around my neck. But he looks so heartbroken, and I can’t bring myself to say the words, because all I want to do is make him feel better.
Before I can second guess myself, I touch his arm. “Brady, I swear to God, Cal was happy. No matter what you had going on between the two of you, he had what he wanted. He was excited about the new baby. That’s one thing that gives me solace. Knowing that Mel and Cal had what they wanted—each other and Bella with another one on the way. Most men would be so lucky.”
After a moment, his shoulders relax. “Thanks. I needed to hear that.”
He leans back against the sofa, and we sit there in silence, each of us lost in our own thoughts for a while.
I motion toward him. “My little sister drives me crazy too. Tori’s seventeen and thinks she knows everything and doesn't want my input unless there's a crisis she can't handle. But when she needs money, she heads straight to me like I’m her personal ATM.” My lips twist. “I can handle the thankless role of big sister, but she’s going through this wild phase right now that worries me.”
“So I’m not the only one who struggles with this stuff?”
“Not at all. Tor definitely tests my patience. But I love her, and she knows it. The same way Cal knew you loved him.” I bump his knee with mine. “If it makes you feel any better, Cal said you were a ‘well-intentioned asshole.’”
I'm trying not to snicker when Brady rolls his eyes, but when he starts to laugh, I pour us both shots and raise my glass. “To being a well-intentioned asshole.”
Grinning, Brady shakes his head and clinks his glass against mine. “To being a well-intentioned asshole.”
We toss back the shots. Shivering, I place my glass on the coffee table and slouch back on the couch.
My eyes are getting heavy, and I'm thinking I should take a power nap when Brady breaks the silence. “Can I ask you something else?”
It's funny how he prefaces every question with a question. Rolling my head against the couch, I turn to look at him. “Anything.”
“How does the whole town know you? Not just know you, but downright adore you. Not that you’re not awesome. You are. But you said you’ve only been here a few months and yet you seemed to know everyone who came out today.”
I try to focus on what he’s asking instead of the way my heart flutters at his compliment. The answer is something that would’ve embarrassed my ex. Shamed him, really. And that plain sucks. Nobody should have the right to make me feel that way.
Pointing to my shot glass, I motion for another drink. Here’s to me embracing where I came from. Brady obliges, and in a matter of seconds I’m tossing back more tequila. The sharp taste burns my throat and I wince, covering my mouth with my hand.
“I grew up here,” I blurt. Lowering my hand, I place it in my lap, wishing I had something better to do with it. Like touch Brady. I’d like to touch Brady. I smile to myself, making a mental note to cut myself off from the booze.
His eyebrows lift, and I shake my head. “Not here here exactly.” I lick my lips, which are numb.
Suddenly, I want to tell him and see his reaction. I tense, hoping like hell his response doesn’t ruin what I’ve already come to admire about him.
“My parents were migrant workers, and when I was little, we traveled all over South Texas. This was one of the farms we worked at.” And then I hiccup.
19
Brady
I’m not sure what I was expecting Kat to say, but this isn’t it. But everything about this girl screams resilience, so I shouldn’t be surprised that she’s the daughter of migrant workers.
When those beautiful hazel eyes look up at me, they’re guarded, but she continues. “One day, we ended up here. Mel’s dad Bob ran it at the time. I don’t know what happened to her mom. I got the impression she hightailed it when Mel was little. My parents helped harvest and did odd jobs for a while.” She reaches for her hair and braids it as she talks. “Mel’s dad offered to let us stay on, but my father didn’t feel right accepting when there wasn’t much to do, so my family moved to another farm near Dallas. We eventually settled down in Corpus.”
I smile as I tug on her braid. “Okay, Anne of Green Gables, so how did you and Melissa end up being best buds?”
She laughs. “How do you know who Anne of Green Gables is?”
“I might be a momma’s boy. She likes those books.”
Toying with a button on her dress, which I notice is now open along her toned thigh, she grins back, and Jesus, that smile. It’s luminous. “Well, your momma has good taste. Those are great books.” Smiling, she adds, “Mel and I got close after I wrote her a postcard telling her how much fun I had here that summer and thanking her for being so nice to me.”
She shrugs, looking a little shy. “I didn’t have a lot of friends growing up. It was tough when we moved so often. People don’t always treat migrant workers well. And it’s hard to find common ground with the other kids at school. They return from summer break talking about vacations and Disneyland, and I spent most of that time picking cotton. Anyway, Mel wrote me back, and we stayed in touch from then on.”
God, I can only imagine a young Kat, all big eyes and beaming smiles, her lush, dark hair twisted in a braid, and I have the sudden urge to hurt the assholes who were cruel to her and her family when she was a kid.
“Did you guys live here in the house back then too?”
Kat shakes her head, her face reddening before she whispers, “We slept in our van at a rest stop just off the highway.”
It takes a full minute to process what she says.
What the holy fuck?
I try to school my features because I don’t want to offend her. But Jesus. It makes me realize how easy I’ve had it my whole life.
A declaration like that requires a drink. I pour us shots and hold up my glass. “To being a badass.”
Her eyes linger on the shot glass as though she’s warri
ng with herself about taking another. Ultimately, she grabs it and shoots me one of her killer smiles. “Says the pot.”
My grin widens. This girl. I’m busy staring at her, seeing her with new eyes, when she clears her throat.
“So, um, is your girlfriend back home gonna be freaked out that you’re bringing home a baby?”
Cute. She’s so damn cute. I can’t lie—her fishing for details about me feels pretty good.
Blowing out a breath, I think about how to answer that question. “No girlfriend. No wife. Poor Izzy is going to have to accept that her uncle can’t coordinate her outfits for shit.” I laugh and run my hands through my hair. “Been flying solo for a while, I guess.”
Her eyebrows lift. “You guess?”
How exactly do I explain Gwen and I were only fucking? Yeah, I don’t.
“Maybe I should say the last girl I saw wasn’t serious. For either of us.” She nods, and I can’t help but ask the obvious question. “And you?”
“I broke up with my boyfriend just before coming here.”
I wait for her to tell me more, but she doesn’t. “Was it serious?”
She rolls her lips between her teeth. “Serious enough.”
I want to know what that means, but deep down, I realize I shouldn’t be delving too deep. It’s not like anything can happen here. I live in Boston. She lives in Texas. End of story. Fortunately, the doorbell stops me from asking anything I’ll regret tomorrow.
When I return a few minutes later with a pizza and dessert, she makes this little sound.
I pause as I balance boxes of food in my arms. “Did you just purr?”
A giggle escapes her. “Maybe. I’m just really excited about the pizza.”
“Clearly.”
We chow down for a bit, barely pausing to breathe. I'm feeling so much lighter since we talked about Cal. I didn't realize how much that was weighing on me.
I find myself watching Kat as she munches on a slice of hand-tossed. There's something so disarming about her. Maybe it’s her laugh or that easy smile. Maybe it’s the way her eyes brighten when she’s amused. Whatever it is, I like that I can talk to her. But even more, I like that she opens up to me.