Reclaiming Brave: The Kane Brothers Book Three

by Gina Azzi

  “I hope I’m like her when I’m thirty.”

  “True story. So, tell me about your paintings.”

  I grin, just remembering the offer. “She offered me a show!”

  “Stop it.”

  “I know, right? It’s so wild. An actual show. At a real gallery. And not just any gallery, but one I swoon over.”

  “Congratulations, Sierra. That’s amazing. When is it?”

  “I’m not sure yet. Either before the baby or way after. Usually, it would be afterwards to give us enough time to prepare everything, but since I have a variety of completed works that haven’t been shown elsewhere, Judy thinks we may be able to arrange everything before. Since you know, after could be…”

  “Interesting?”

  “Nice word choice.”

  Daisy laughs, the sound giddy with excitement, mirroring my own happiness.

  “We’re going to sit down after the holidays and sort everything out. But honestly, I wasn’t expecting that. At all. She blew me away. We talked about my art and the trajectory of where my painting is heading. What my vision is for the future and the types of works I’d like to create, the different materials I’m looking to incorporate moving forward. It was a really inspiring conversation. And honest. I really like that about her. She’s super honest and straightforward, which is refreshing.”

  “That’s awesome. Your first show. I bet your whole family flies in.”

  I roll my eyes but I’m cheesing. Hard. Because I’m sure they will, too.

  “And of course, I’ll be there. Have you told Denver yet?”

  “No, not yet. I texted him but haven’t heard back yet. We’re supposed to meet at Bryant Park in a little bit, so I’m going to tell him then.”

  “He’s going to be so proud of you.”

  “I’m just so excited, you know?”

  “You should be. Things are definitely looking up, Sierra.”

  She’s right. They really are.

  35

  Denver

  “Hey, mate. How’s Sisi holding up?” Finlay asks as soon as I pick up the phone.

  “Hey. Yeah, she’s doing all right. Really busy with her painting.”

  “I heard. It’s great she’s doing that. I know we all tried to push her into joining us at the family business, but the truth is it was never for her.”

  “Yeah,” I agree. “How are you?”

  “Well, well. I’m calling because I have some news about your dad.”

  “Oh?” I swallow, sitting down on the nearest chair in the break room at Custom Carz. My heart gallops in my chest, my palms suddenly growing sweaty. This is it. Whatever falls out of Finlay’s mouth can either make or break my future.

  “There’ve been new techniques that have been used in recent years regarding DNA sampling. I know you maintained your innocence but still served the time. If we can link the DNA from the scene of the crime to your father or Griller, we can clear your name.”

  “Yeah, but what DNA? My dad and Griller are professional cons; they wouldn’t leave any incriminating evidence behind.”

  “Except they did. And the video surveillance resurfaced.”

  I’m still reeling from Finn’s news as I walk to Bryant Park to meet Sierra at the Winter Village. It’s a quaint set-up with hot chocolate, dessert stations, and various winter items that make good Christmas gifts. For people who live in the cold, I guess.

  And it’s serving another purpose today as the backdrop of one of the most important moments of my life.

  “Denver!” Sierra calls out when she spots me, waving me over, her hands covered in warm gloves.

  “Hey baby.” I smile at her, pulling her into my arms and kissing her like I haven’t seen her in weeks when it’s really only been a few hours. The gentlest swell of her stomach presses into me and I hold her closer, loving the way she looks and feels with her growing belly.

  “How’s your day?” she asks sweetly when I pull back.

  I lace our fingers together and walk us closer to the ice-skating rink, wishing we could join the skaters but knowing I’d never take that risk with Sierra pregnant. “I just got amazing news from your cousin, Finlay. Things are definitely looking up and we’re on the right track to clearing my name.”

  “Oh my God! Baby, that’s amazing.” Sierra squeezes my hand and beams up at me.

  “Yeah. I’m still processing the news. What about you? How was lunch with that Judy lady?”

  Sierra smiles, stopping in her tracks to face me. “She offered me a show!”

  “What? Like an art show?”

  She nods, squealing loudly.

  “Wow, Sierra. That’s amazing. I’m so freaking proud of you, baby.” I pull her in for a hug, squeezing her before cupping her cheeks and kissing her lips. I can’t help myself. I’m in awe of every single thing this woman does. “When is it?”

  “I’m not sure yet. We’re still working out the logistics. Either before the baby arrives or way, way after.”

  “Well, whenever it is, it will be perfect. I’m really in awe of you.”

  “I love you, Den.” She looks up at me, her sweet face vibrant and happy.

  “I love you more. In fact, I love you so much that I want to make some changes.”

  Her brow furrows as she glances up at me. “What do you mean?”

  “I want to talk to you about something. It’s important. And afterwards, I thought we could grab some hot chocolate.”

  “Okay. What’s going on?” Her eyes darken with concern.

  Before she can panic too much, I ease her onto a park bench and get down on one knee in front of her.

  She gasps, her eyes widening, and watches me intently.

  “Sierra Grace Begay, I’ve been into you for a long, long time. And I’ve fallen for you and for our little girl, hard. I don’t care what my future looks like as long as I get to share it with you and our baby. I want to make you happy, to create a family with you, and to grow old with you by my side. Please, will you marry me?” I pull out the ring I had fashioned from my mother’s alexandrite gemstone from my pocket and present it to her.

  Tears dot the corners of her eyes as she nods, her gaze never dropping to the ring, her hands cupping my cheeks as she pulls me in for a kiss. Around us, cheers and whistles ring out and Sierra laughs against my lips. “Yes, yes. Of course I’ll marry you.”

  After we break apart, I slip the ring onto her finger and feel my chest swell with emotion at the perfect fit. “This was my mother’s stone. It’s alexandrite.” I explain, running a finger over the teardrop gemstone that I had made into a ring with tiny diamonds bunched on each side.

  Sierra gasps. “This isn’t the gemstone that Carter was saving for Daisy, is it?”

  I look up at her, moving from my knee to the spot next to her on the bench. “You know about that?”

  She nods.

  “It is. It was a pendant that I had made into a ring for you. When I went back to Georgia the last time, Carter and Daisy and Jax, via FaceTime, explained to me how Taylor’s dad was recently able to buy the gemstone back for Carter. They all agreed that I should have it, to give to you. Daisy said you’re her sister and she wants us to have something that belonged to Mom as we begin our new life and new family together.”

  “It’s beautiful.” Sierra says, glancing down at her finger, tears spilling onto her cheeks. “And I’m honored to wear it.”

  “Good. Because I’m honored to marry you.” I tell her before capturing her lips once more with mine.

  36

  Sierra

  “Mom! I’m engaged!” I hold my finger up to the laptop screen and laugh when my mom gasps.

  “Oh my gosh! Wow! Congratulations! You too, Denver!” She exclaims, waving as Denver’s face joins mine in the frame.

  “Thank you, Jenni. I’m just relieved Sierra said yes.”

  “Of course she said yes. She’s been pining for you since she was nineteen.” Mom announces and I feel my cheeks redden.

  “Th
anks Mom.”

  “Oh, honey, please. You’re having a baby together. You’ll be sharing a lot more embarrassing moments than this one during labor.”

  “And she just keeps going.” I joke, looking up at Den to gage his reaction at my mother’s embarrassing over-sharing.

  But he just shrugs, laughing at us.

  “That ring is stunning. Show me again.” Mom commands, calling out for James and Liam. Unbeknownst to me, Lach and Callum are both visiting so we get the whole family, with all the shouting and exclaiming and excitement.

  Denver is smiling harder than I’ve ever seen and I can’t help but wish we were with my family in Scotland, about to go out for a big celebration. The consolation is that we’re flying to Georgia for Christmas tomorrow and we will celebrate with his family in person.

  “When’s the wedding?”

  “Better question, where’s the wedding?”

  “Is the baby going to be involved at all?”

  My family tosses out question after question but Denver and I just look at each other and laugh. “Guys, we just, just got engaged. As soon as we have more information, I promise to let you know.”

  “Like for real let us know or wait a ton of months?” Liam asks and I stick my tongue out at him as my other brothers laugh.

  “For real let you know.”

  “Alright, alright but we’re waiting.” He replies.

  We chat with my family for several more minutes before we disconnect. I fix us some mugs of hot chocolate, tossing some marshmallows on top, and we snuggle on the couch.

  “I can’t believe we’re getting married.” I admit, smiling at Den over the rim of my mug.

  “I can’t wait to marry you.”

  “Do you think we should do it before or after the baby?”

  “Whatever you want. If we do it before, it will be rushed and I don’t want you taking on all of that extra stress so we’ll have to keep it simple with the planning.” He raises his eyebrows at me and I try to keep my face a mask of innocence. “But, if we do it after, it may be tough with all the new baby stuff going on.”

  I nod, agreeing. “Can we wait a little bit to decide?”

  “We can wait as long as you want.” He pulls my legs into his lap.

  “I am so in love with my ring. I need to get a manicure.” I look down at my hand again, my breath catching in my throat every time I see the shifting color of the alexandrite.

  Denver laughs and places his mug on a side table before doing the same with mine. “I’m glad you love it. My mom would have loved you and it makes me happy to see you wearing something that belonged to her.” He admits, moving closer until he’s hovering over me.

  “Me too.” I smile up at him, winding my arms around his neck and pulling him closer. Closing my eyes, I breathe him in just as he settles between my legs and lowers his mouth to mine. Although we can’t get carried away, we definitely push the pelvic rest envelope.

  “Seriously, what is it with you and couches?” I ask him as he trails kisses down my ribcage.

  Denver laughs, the sounds rich and warm, and I close my eyes, loving that I get to hear it for the rest of my life.

  “Sierra, you have a package.” Denver calls out the next morning as I’m frantically trying to squeeze everything into my suitcase before we head to the airport.

  “Another one? Pottery Barn Kids is seriously taking over our lives.” I call back, sitting on my suitcase and fighting with the zipper.

  “I think you’ll want to open this one.” Denver comes into the room and hands me a small box.

  I glance at the return address and forget all about my suitcase. Reaching out to take the package from his hand, I hold it to my chest. “It’s from my dad.”

  Denver nods, his face thoughtful as he watches me.

  Sitting on the end of our bed, Denver next to me, I open the package delicately, nervously. Unsure of what it contains and what it means, I unwrap the tissue paper gently, and tears spring to the corners of my eyes as I look down and see the small painting of a field of flowers—yellows and purples and oranges. Vibrant and lifelike, they are textured to appear as if they’re growing out of the painting. And then, in the center, is a tiny string of hearts, the end of one beginning the top of the next. And I know, without him here to explain it to me, that it’s his heart, my heart, and the peanut’s heart. The first one is the largest and the third is the smallest, and it’s a family tree of sorts. Of course, it’s not accurate, but it’s his way of giving me something, of showing that he does care, that I do matter.

  “There’s a note.” Denver bends down to pick up the small card stock that fell out of the package.

  “Dear Sierra, You’re going to be a wonderful mother. I hope your daughter has your strength, your spirit, and most of all, your passion. Thinking of you.” I read aloud, tears tracking my cheeks.

  Denver wraps an arm around my shoulders and holds me close while I cry.

  “Baby, don’t cry. This is a good thing, right?”

  I nod into his shoulder, trying to explain myself. “I’m not crying because I’m sad. I’m crying because I’m happy.”

  “Okay.” He drawls, his expression unsure.

  “I’m serious. This,” I clutch the painting to my chest, “this is closure.”

  Den pulls me closer and I rest my head against his heart, hearing the rumble of his chuckle and laughing through my tears.

  Epilogue

  Denver

  “Wheels up.” Sierra wrinkles her nose at me, and I reach over to clasp her hand in mine.

  “We’ll be there before you know it,” I reassure her.

  “I know. It’s not even that I hate flying, I don’t. It’s just, things are different now.” She looks down to our sweet peanut.

  “I know what you mean,” I say, my eyes locked on hers.

  “Do we have a lot of plans while we’re in Ashby County?”

  “Besides telling everyone we’re engaged?”

  She smiles. “Besides that.”

  “Not much. Evie and Jax should be there by the time we get home. Taylor and Carter already have a tree at my family home set up, all ready to decorate. I know Daisy’s been baking like crazy and had a stocking made for the peanut. Just, you know, a normal Christmas.”

  “Can we have hot chocolate and sing Christmas carols?”

  “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

  “It’s going to be strange without any snow.”

  “I’m definitely not missing winter.” I look out the window, eager to get home, see my siblings, and share the news that Sierra and I are getting married. We called her family last night and the Begay-Anderson reaction was overwhelming. I’m expecting something similar from the Kanes.

  “Thank you.” Sierra rests her head on my shoulder, her eyes glancing down at the alexandrite. “For moving to New York. For fighting for us.”

  I kiss the top of her head. “Thank you,” I tell her quietly. I don’t say the rest. About how grateful I am to have her and the peanut in my life, about how she’s been a game changer for me. About how guys like me only dream about chances with women like her.

  But the way she smiles up at me, her dark eyes sparkling, lets me know that she knows all of it anyway.

  The thing I’m most excited about is starting the next chapter of my life with Sierra and our peanut.

  This Christmas will be full of all the usual Kane family traditions, with a few new additions and twists.

  And I can’t freaking wait.

  * * *

  <<<<>>>>

  Daisy’s Story

  Stay tuned for Daisy Kane’s story - a hot and sweet workplace romance set in Edinburgh, Scotland - coming February 2018.

  To celebrate Christmas with the Kane Brothers and learn more about Daisy and Finn, sign up for my newsletter for a FREE novella prequel!

  The Last First Game

  Have you read The Senior Semester Series yet? Dive into The Last First Game, a sweet New Adult sports romance, an
d learn how sparks fly between football God Cade Wilkins and medical intern Lila Avers. Now available on all platforms.

  September

  Chapter One

  Cade

  The airport is packed with the bustle of businessmen in crisp suits and compact luggage, weaving in between the slow gait of college students and their mother’s tear-stained faces. It’s the end of summer and back to school season is upon us. I shake my head with a laugh. I’ve been back at school since July. Our first game is in eight days against Arizona University. We’ve got to give ’em hell.

  I sit down near my gate, checking my boarding pass to make sure I’m in the right place. Gate A24. Yep. I stretch my right leg out, flexing my knee. The soreness eases a bit as I rub the tender joint.

  The weekend went by quickly, a lot faster than I anticipated. It was solid of Coach to even let me fly home for the weekend with the season opener so close. I close my eyes. I wish more than anything that I didn’t have to come home for yesterday’s memorial service. That this weekend didn’t mark the one-year anniversary of his death. I dreaded each moment of being in the suffocating walls of my childhood home in New Jersey, struggling to breathe against the influx of memories that all center on him: tossing the pigskin in the backyard, washing down leftover cold pizza with flat beer on Sunday mornings, squeezing Mamma in between us in big sandwich hugs, helping Dad wash his car in the driveway during summer. Jared’s death in Iraq last year—IED roadside explosion—was the worst day of my life.

  His one-year memorial service was second.

  I open my eyes and scan the airport. An old man bounces a baby, presumably his grandson, on his knee; two young girls huddle together on the floor, using the sticky blue seats as beds for their dolls; a young hipster pounds on the keys of his laptop, his eyes narrowed in thought.