by Mila Nicks
He wasn’t exactly sure he understood what it was like to belong to one, but what he did understand was its immeasurable worth. Growing up that kind of unconditional love escaped him after his parents passed. While he had his Aunt Edna and Uncle Kevin, they weren’t exactly warm and affectionate. He was groomed to be a loner through the years, usually fine as one.
Juliette Lowry changed that for him. Meeting her he assumed she was another overconfident A.D.A., pushy and dismissive toward police officers when differences arose. He discovered his misconception not long after their courthouse coffee-spill fiasco. Juliette showed him he could have a real friend. She taught him how to be a good one himself. He looked forward to their beer and wings outings at Wing King and their Sunday morning park walks with Tank. Hell, he’d even make a fool of himself and try new things like kickboxing if it meant he got to spend time with her.
Because it was Juliette. Because there was no one else like her, in his eyes. Because she was a special one of a kind miracle who brought him a happiness he found nowhere else. Because how could he not fall in love with her?
His heart jumped at that thought. Determination renewed and gave him another rush of adrenaline in his veins. He narrowed his eyes and tightened his grip on the moped. Less than four minutes away from…
“Preston! Preston!”
The oceanside winds muffled the call of his name at first. He continued steering the moped, winding down another curve. For a second, the call was so distant he thought it was his thoughts of her voice. Its volume increased, battling the wind for his ears to pick up.
“PRESTON!”
He threw a glance over his shoulder and his reaction was a shocked smile. Juliette waved her arms in the air, riding in the back of a pedicab hauled ass to keep up with his moped. He had many questions enter his head, but in the moment, they didn’t matter. His foot slammed on the brakes and he pulled over against the first curb available. The pedicab mimicked him, the driver easing up on his pedals to bring them to a stop behind him.
Preston barely rose off the moped before Juliette leapt out the back of the pedicab. He rushed to meet her halfway, unable to process his relief at their small reunion. She threw herself at him for him to catch her and he did. His arms wrapped around her and he held her tightly. The couple stood there on the spot locked in an embrace for seconds on end.
The collar of his shirt moistened and he realized she was crying. He cradled her head and held her that much closer, sensing it was what she needed. “Shhh. It’s alright. Everything is gonna be. Just breathe. We’ll get through this—all of us.”
“Thank you,” she hiccuped into his neck.
“How’s your father?”
“Not good. We need to get him a specialist in the next 48 hours. He can’t wait any longer. I was headed home to pack and call some recommendations. Then I saw you on the moped.”
“I was headed to the hospital. The paramedic wouldn’t let me ride with you.”
“Of course you were!” That revelation seemed to make Juliette cry some more. Another quiet sob left her in a stifled gasp and she clung to him as if his words reaffirmed something. “Natasia told me you went to the beach.”
“Natasia's a liar that I’ve never been more convinced is fucked up in the head.”
Juliette drew away enough to look up into his eyes. Her stare was curious and he knew he had to explain what happened in the kitchen. He told her about his peckish craving for a snack and her sudden appearance. Her kiss followed and Mr. Lowry walked in. He finished with an apology though he knew he’d never cause her Dad any intentional harm.
Finishing up the story, Juliette said nothing. Her tears dried and she blinked a couple times, expression vacant. Preston's hand curved the swell of her cheek, brows lined together.
“Are you alright?”
“Let’s go. We have to get back to the beach house.”
She dashed to the moped and swung aboard, expectantly waiting for him to join. There to assist in whatever way needed, Preston asked no questions. He jogged over to the pedicab to explain their change of mind and then returned to the moped Dave and Betsy lent him. Her arms slipped around him from behind and he inhaled from the deepest pit of his lungs.
They were together now, and that meant everything was going to be okay.
Priority number one returning to the Brosman’s was finding Dad a cardiac surgeon. The Paradise Key doctors provided a list of recommendations, most located on larger islands in the Florida Keys. Juliette researched as much as possible on each and settled on Doctor Edwin Jenner.
Priority number two was packing. Preston volunteered on his own to help with that. helped with that as Juliette browsed the internet and placed phone calls to various specialists. He neatly packed their things and carried their luggages downstairs.
Priority number three was checking on the others. Preston handled that as well. He checked on Gram Babes and called Gigi to ensure she was alright. Gram insisted on following him back to their room, holding onto him like he was private escort.
“I’ve been worried sick about you!” Gram gave Juliette a hug as soon as she hung up from her latest phone call. “Mellie and the other girls are real ones. They took care of an old bitty when she was feeling ill about her son. Didn’t leave me alone for a second.”
Juliette sighed with relief. “I’ll have to remember to thank them later.”
“And this one, he’s a dang Prince Charming,” said Gram, thumbing toward Preston. “He just brought me some water and made sure I took my afternoon pills.”
“He is. I’m lucky to have him.” Juliette directed a small appreciative smile his way. Her eyes dropped to Mom’s phone in her lap. The latest search engine results glowed up at her. “There’s a ferry that’ll get us to Key West this evening. Dr. Jenner and his staff say they can get Dad checked in as soon as we arrive to run some tests and figure out a game plan. ”
“Well, let me go grab my purse and put on my wig!” Gram started for the door.
“I’ll bring your luggage down,” said Preston.
“Have you spoken to Gigi? Has she figured out what she’s doing about the wedding?” Gram paused to ask. “Heaven knows they’ve spent thousands on this shindig.”
“I called her earlier. She was just getting to the hospital with Dom. She said she’d call back.”
“Gigi won’t have a wedding where Dad can’t walk her down the aisle. Dad comes before any wedding.”
“Good. Let’s get my son back to tip top shape. I prayed earlier and I know he’s going to make it out okay,” Gram said firmly. Her hand rested on the knob, the door slightly ajar.
The rest of the house had been mostly enveloped in mournful silence since they returned. That was true in that moment too, until two voices trailed in from the hallway outside. At first sounding like generic male and female voices sharing a verbal exchange, the further down the hall they walked, their identities became clear.
“You had something to do with it, didn’t you?”
“I’ve been doing me. You’re the one turning it into a problem.”
“It’s a problem because you don’t care who gets hurt!”
“Shut up, Ty.”
“No, Sash. I’m not gonna shut up. Not this time.”
“Do what you gotta do.”
Gram eased the door closed so that it wouldn’t click and alert the brother-sister duo to their eavesdropping. Back to the door, she peered Preston and Juliette with eyes doubled.
“What were those troublemakers talking about?”
Preston's jaw squared. “I know exactly what they were talking ‘bout.”
“That girl is on another level. Just for no reason. It must be in her D.N.A. Middle name misery,” Gram said.
Juliette sat silent for a moment and then she snapped. Inside her, the calm composure she sought so hard to maintain in order to arrange things for Mom and Dad slipped away. It fell well beyond her grasp, no longer there as a shield to keep her grounded. In its place, a
n edgy, twitchy feeling consumed her. Her ears pounded, blood flowing hot like lava. She couldn’t stand another second.
For the door she darted, bypassing Preston and Gram. Their questions of, “where are you going?” and “what are you doing?” sounded as background noise as she wrenched the door open. Out in the hall, she scanned left and right. Trey and Natasia disappeared down the staircase, the tops of their heads sinking out of view.
Juliette's breathing was a low venomous hiss as her vision tunneled. She raced to catch up to them, in need of answers right now. After what Preston told her, after what she’d seen, after what she’d heard, if Natasia Williams was purposely causing harm to her family and those she loved…
“Hey!” Juliette yelled, flying down the steps half a flight behind them. They didn’t turn around quick enough for her liking, so she yelled louder. “HEY!”
Natasia and Trey stopped at the bottom of the staircase. Judging by Tyrese’s ‘O’ shaped mouth, he was shocked. By contrast, Natasia quirked a brow and regarded her with the cool indifference she’d always held. Juliette didn’t stop until they stood face to face.
“You’re doing you? Is that right?”
“Excuse me?” Natasia's brow arched higher, if possible.
“Don’t play stupid now. I overheard you. That’s your thing, right? Doing grimy shit and then hiding your hands—pretending like it’s everybody else with the problem and not you!” Juliette ranted, glaring into her cold, unaffected eyes. “What happened in the kitchen earlier today?”
“Not sure I know what you’re talking about.”
Juliette stepped forward, bridging the little gap between them. “You know exactly what I’m talking about. Say it—say what you did. I want to hear out of your mouth.”
“Look, let’s calm down and cool off,” Trey mediated, but both women ignored him.
“If you’re talking about what happened with your fiancé, so what?”
“Sash!” Tyrese’s face scrunched up like a sudden headache struck him.
Juliette smirked, her anger now on a strangely quiet level. “So you admit it. You kissed him. And you knew my father was going to walk in, didn’t you? You wanted him to see.”
“What’s your point? I did nothing wrong. I’ve already told you—”
Natasia stumbled off her feet, popped in the mouth by Juliette's fist. She landed on her bottom with a thud, clapping a hand to her jaw as if to hold it together after the blunt strike.
In her thirty years, Juliette had never been a violent person. She had been in one real fight in her life at age twelve. Even that was a quick schoolyard brawl between a bully named Rhonda, broken up by school officials. Words were always her preferred problem solving method. Hence why she pursued a degree in law and a career as a prosecutor.
Yet in that moment, staring into the antagonistic brown pools of Natasia Williams, her temper seized the driver seat. The Brosman staff member had provoked and caused trouble for days without any real consequence. Dad was now lying in a hospital bed because of her hateful antics.
No pity was to be had staring at an injured, dizzied Natasia on the floor. Trey knelt by her side, prying her hands off her mouth to assess the damage. Preston and Gram had trotted down the stairs and flanked her on the left and right. The others must’ve heard the ruckus too, because they emerged from different doorways and halls in the massive beach house.
Juliette was out of fucks to give. She wanted everyone to know about Natasia and her foul behavior. It was what she deserved.
“I don’t know what makes you do the fucked up things you do. I don’t care why. But what I’m not going to let you do is hurt my family,” Juliette growled. Her own hand throbbed from the hit, but her adrenaline coursed stronger, and numbed her to its extent. “I’m done giving you warnings.”
“What on earth is going on? What have you done to Natasia?”
Everyone looked up at the top stair. Mr. and Mrs. Brosman stood surveying the wreckage. Mrs. Brosman’s thin brows knitted close out of bemusement, but her husband behaved differently. Anger flashed in his eyes and he promptly descended the wide staircase to join the chaotic scene.
“Did you just hit her?” he demanded to Juliette.
Preston automatically slipped into guard dog mode. “Your employee caused her father to collapse and go into cardiac arrest. What’re you more concerned ‘bout?”
“What kind of tall tales are you on about? I care about facts! And the facts are that she’s on the floor bruised! I won’t stand for violence under my roof,” Mr. Brosman remarked strictly, wagging a dramatic finger into the air. Next he pointed it at Juliette. “Sister of the bride or not, you’ve got to go!”
The crowd of bridesmaids and groomsmen muttered their shock amongst themselves, unsure if they should intervene. Juliette glanced down at Natasia, who hadn’t moved from her spot on the floor, and whose jaw had begun to purple, and she shrugged.
“We were leaving anyway. There’s more important things to take care of—like my father’s health. I have no problem with never coming back.”
“Good, because…because you’re not welcomed.”
“Will, maybe we should press pause for a second,” Mrs. Brosman mumbled.
“No, Sheila, I won’t stand for it. She hit Natasia!”
Preston lost his temper. “If everybody has a problem with Natasia then maybe it’s not them. Maybe it’s her—it’s that your employee is crazy! How stupid are you?”
Mrs. Brosman gasped. Mr. Brosman seethed, eyes narrowed.
“Get out of my house now! I don’t care how ‘crazy’ someone is. I won’t stand for violence. Not against my guests. Not against my employees. Go!”
“Employees? Is that what we are?” Trey piped up suddenly, his rumbling voice like thunder. He stood from his kneeling position beside Natasia and surprised everyone with a chuckle. He wiped his brow and shook his head, the agitation clear. “You know what? Maybe I should go too. I’m tired of everybody’s shit. Yours more than anybody’s.”
Juliette looked from Trey to Mr. Brosman and back again. Mr. Brosman’s expression flattened as a full 180. He went from staunch self-righteousness to looking like he’d swallowed a toad. He swallowed and tried his best to placate the unexpected twist.
“Now, Trey, we’ll talk offline. Later. These two need to go.”
“I don’t wanna talk offline. Everything’s always offline with you,” Trey sniped, the bass in his voice deepening. “Then you wonder why she does the things she does! Don’t you see this is all your fault?”
“Will, what is he talking about?” Mrs. Brosman asked.
Preston's fingers slipped between Juliette's and he held her hand. The gesture was silent communication between them. Confirmation that regardless of whatever drama continued to unfold they were a united front. She appreciated him more than she could say at that time, but in her heart, she accepted the pitter-patter as proof she was falling for Preston Brooker. Hard enough that it felt a lot like…
“Nothing, darling. It’s for later,” Mr. Brosman insisted.
Trey refused to let it go. He barked, “You can’t deny us any longer!”
“So it’s true? Trey and Natasia are yours?”
As if there hadn’t been enough unforeseen appearances during the family drama, Gigi and Dominic walked through the front door. The couple wore exhaustion after hours at sea and then a frantic race to the hospital. Dom spoke to his father in a tone weighted down by disheartened truth.
Mr. Brosman was speechless. Trey answered for him.
“He always says our father, George Williams, was his best friend, but it’s bullshit—how can he be when he had an affair with our mother? When he paid everybody off to pretend it wasn’t what it was?” Trey rounded on him. “You didn’t give a damn about us ’til they passed! Then you wanted to act like you were taking us in out of the kindness of your heart. You wanted to cover your ass, didn’t you? Keep us close so you could control us!”
“Oh my god,” Mrs.
Brosman cried, stopping there. She had no other words.
“How could we ever be anything when you kept us down? When we had to watch you spoil your real son. Your real family. You know what it’s like knowing you were illegitimate? You know how much that messed us up?”
“I…I never…I didn’t…it was a mistake.” Mr. Brosman flubbed, a sheen of sweat gathering on his bronze skin.
Preston squeezed Juliette's hand. “We should go. We’ve gotta make sure we get your father to Key West.”
Juliette nodded and together, along with Gram, they abandoned the ongoing Brosman feud. Gigi spoke up next.
“Wait for me! I’m coming with.”
“We’re coming with.” Dom reached for his bride-to-be and stared adamantly into her eyes. “Your family is important to me. They need us more. I…I don’t care about the drama unfolding with mine. Not right now when you need to be with your father. I suspected for a while that Natasia and Trey were…” He paused and shuddered out a disappointed breath. “Remember I told you Natasia had cornered me? It wasn’t to flirt. It…It was to tell me about our family secret. I didn’t know how to deal with it. Our wedding meant more to me.”
“Is that why you were off? That night you were in a bad mood…” Gigi trailed off.
Dom affirmed her suspicions. “None of it matters. There’s always another day for a big wedding. Let’s go support your dad.”
The foursome, Gram at their side, walked out of the imploding Brosman beach house, and they didn’t look back.
16
“It’s probably in everyone’s best interest to call it a night,” said the head nurse on shift. She closed the curtains to Dad’s window and realigned the visitor chairs against the wall. “The meds will have him knocked out for hours. He won’t wake again until the morning. It’s been a long day for all of you as well.”