Don't Let Go

by Jaci Burton

  "Aww," Molly said. "If you're late, you could have a Christmas baby."

  "Or, if you're early," Jane said, "a Thanksgiving baby."

  Chelsea laughed. "Either way, I'm happy. Like, obscenely happy. So is Bash. We're kind of disgusting right now."

  "You are not disgusting," Jane said. "You're happy."

  "And what about you, Jane?" Des asked. "Still having baby yearnings now that Chelsea is all pregnant and confirmed?"

  Jane beamed a smile. "I've talked to Will. He's totally on board the baby-making train."

  Emma's eyes widened and she placed her glass of iced tea on the table. "So you're going to try to get pregnant?"

  "As we speak. I mean, not at this very moment or anything, but yes, we'd like to have a baby, so we're having sex all the time. Which, I have to tell you, is a lot of fun. And not easy to do when you have a husband who works strange hours and two kids who want a lot of attention when he's home."

  Molly laughed. "Try showering together. Or make a rule about the kids not interrupting you when you're in the bedroom together with the door closed."

  "We already have that rule. Unless someone is throwing up or bleeding, no one is allowed to come into the bedroom."

  Des's lips curved. "I'm going to have to remember that rule for when Benjamin is older."

  "But nightmares can totally usurp that rule, right?" Emma asked. "I can't imagine little ones having nightmares wouldn't trump the closed-door rule."

  "And thunderstorms," Molly added. "I always hated those and would crawl into my parents' bed."

  "Or mine," Emma said.

  Molly laughed. "That's true."

  Jane nodded. "Of course. Frightened children can always come into the bedroom."

  "I should have brought my notebook," Chelsea said. "I'm going to have to start making lists."

  Megan laughed. "You and your lists. Your little one is still cooking in your belly and you need lists already?"

  Chelsea gave Megan a look of surprise. "It's like you don't even know me."

  Megan laughed. "Okay, fine. List away. But you're not stressed right now, are you? I mean about the wedding?"

  "Shockingly, not at all. With all of you helping out, and the incredible help that Des's Hollywood crew has provided, it's been amazingly stress-free. Thank you all so much. I couldn't have done this all so quickly without you."

  Megan smiled at her. "Hey, that's what friends are for. And I'm going to make you a killer cake."

  "And I'll give you the most beautiful flowers you could ever imagine," Sam said.

  "Which is why I'm not stressed at all."

  They ate wonderful food that Martha cooked, and Megan had made a sheet cake, along with a triple-decker chocolate and caramel cake that everyone pronounced delicious.

  "How am I supposed to fit into my wedding dress if I keep eating stuff like this?" Chelsea asked as she slipped her fork into another slice. "I'm lucky that I haven't suffered any nausea with this pregnancy so far. All I want to do is eat."

  Megan laughed. "Enjoy the cake, Chelsea."

  "I intend to. But only one skinny slice. I mentioned my wedding dress fit perfectly, didn't I?"

  "You did."

  "I have to make sure it stays that way."

  "I don't think one small slice of cake will make a difference."

  She slid a bite between her lips, then moaned. "You never know. This baby could decide to make my belly pop out at any moment."

  Megan laughed.

  Chelsea had insisted on no gifts, since she and Bash already had their house and it was fully stocked, but all the girls got together and bought her a gift certificate for one of the spas in Tulsa so she could have a nice relaxing day before the wedding.

  She teared up when she opened the envelope. "Oh, this is perfect. Thank you all so much. I'm really going to enjoy it. I'm going to have a massage and a facial and a mani-pedi and I'm going to knock Bash on his ass when he sees me."

  Megan laughed. "I think you already do that every day."

  "This is true. But I'll be even more alluring on my wedding day."

  "You know we're all just as excited about the wedding as you are," Des said, cuddling baby Ben to her chest. "And I've got a babysitter, so Logan and I will get a night out."

  "Same here," Emma said, looking over at the vibrating rocker where baby Michael lay sleeping. "It'll be a fun night."

  "Of course it will," Chelsea said. "We're going to party that night. I won't be drinking, but we're all going to party."

  Megan went into the kitchen to refresh her glass of sangria. Sam followed.

  "Will you and Brady be going to the wedding together?" Sam asked.

  Megan turned and leaned against the counter. "I actually hadn't given it much thought."

  "In other words, you haven't talked to him about the wedding."

  She took a sip of her sangria, which was delicious. "No, I haven't."

  "So ask him. The two of you have been spending a lot of time together, right?"

  "We have." She smiled just thinking about the other night.

  "I'm sure he'd love to come to the wedding."

  "I don't know about that. Big parties aren't really his thing."

  Sam shot her a look. "And you know this how?"

  Megan shrugged. "Okay, I don't know that it's not his thing. I'm totally guessing."

  "Even if that's true, you are his thing. So ask him to be your date for the wedding."

  "You're a very pushy friend, you know."

  Sam laughed. "That's why you love me."

  "True. Fine, I'll ask him."

  It was Saturday, so she had no idea where Brady was. After the party she texted him but got no answer, so she took care of some housecleaning business that usually got left undone because she was typically busy doing other things--like baking.

  It was an hour later by the time she realized Brady had texted her back and told her he was at the shop painting, but she should stop by.

  She took a chance and decided to drive by the auto shop. When she saw the front was locked up tight, she drove around to the back of the shop. The garage door was open, so she figured Brady must still be working. She parked alongside the back wall and got out.

  Brady was inside, painting a bike. Fascinated, she stayed quiet as she approached since she'd never watched him paint before. This wasn't like body paint. He was working a design on the tank of a beautiful cherry red bike. It looked like he was painting barbed wire onto the fender. He was leaning close, and the design was meticulous and oh-so-detailed.

  She didn't want to disturb him and cause him to make a mistake.

  "I know you're back there."

  Obviously he was more aware than she knew. "I'm sorry. I didn't want to cause you to flinch."

  "Roxie gave you away."

  She hadn't even noticed Roxie on her pile of blankets in the corner of the shop. She was standing and wagging her tail.

  "Oh, I see her now. Hey, Roxie."

  He stopped, leaned back, and set down the paint he was using. He stood and stretched his back, then grabbed a rag to wipe his hands. "It's okay. I needed a break anyway."

  When he stepped away, she got a full look at the work he'd been doing. It was more than barbed wire. It had a purple demon encased within it, and the details were breathtaking.

  "Wow," she said. "You painted that?"

  He looked down at it. "Yeah."

  "That's . . ." She dragged her gaze away from the bike's tank and onto Brady. "It's amazing."

  "Thanks."

  "How do you do it? I mean, I don't see a stencil. You freehand that?"

  He nodded.

  She shook her head. "It's incredible, Brady. I don't know how people aren't lined up down the block to have you paint their bikes."

  He laughed. "Well, thanks for that compliment. Maybe you should do my PR for me."

  "I'm serious. This is kind of mind-blowing."

  "It's okay. It's not done yet."

  She couldn't believe he wa
s being so matter-of-fact about it. "It's more than okay. It's a work of art."

  He gave her a short laugh. "Hardly. It's just paint, Megan."

  "How can you downplay something like this? I think it's magnificent. The level of detail, even down to the eyes." She leaned over to get a closer look, and suddenly Brady was behind her, his hand scooping up her hair.

  "I don't think you want your hair in the wet paint."

  She straightened immediately. "Oh. I'm so sorry. The last thing I want is to mess up that awesome paint job."

  "I was more worried about you getting paint in your hair."

  He would be more concerned about her. "Well, thank you for that. I'm sure whoever is getting this bike is going to love it. I would, if I rode one."

  "You could, you know."

  "Ride a bike? I don't think so."

  He cocked his head to the side. "Why not?"

  "I . . . I don't know. I guess it's never something I considered."

  "Anyone can ride a bike, Megan. All it takes is desire."

  "I suppose you're right. Maybe if I had a gorgeously painted bike like that, I'd want to take it out and show it off."

  He laughed. "There you go. If you ever decide you want a bike, I'll paint it for you."

  She pulled her gaze away from the bike and onto him. "You will, huh? What if I want cakes and muffins on it?"

  "If that's what you want, I'll do it."

  "Really? I can't see you painting cakes and muffins on a Harley."

  He shrugged. "You'd be surprised what I've painted on motorcycles before."

  He headed to the back of the garage to release Roxie's leash from where he had her tethered.

  "She needs a break, too. Wanna walk with us?"

  "Sure."

  He shut the garage door, and she followed him as he led the dog.

  As they walked, she thought about what he'd said. "Okay, now I'm curious. What kinds of things have you painted on bikes?"

  "One guy wanted a casket on the gas tank, flowers inside of it. Another asked me to do pink flowers all over the tank and fenders. One woman wanted all makeup thingies on hers--like lipstick and makeup cases. A guy wanted a picture of his mom. Oh yeah, and there was the one I did with worms."

  She grimaced. "Worms?"

  He laughed. "Yeah. Bloody worms. Some cut up, some whole. It was pretty gruesome, but it actually turned out awesome. I have photos of all the bikes I've done. Some are on my phone, but others are in photo books."

  "I definitely want to see."

  After they walked Roxie to the park and back, he took her upstairs, where Roxie got a drink of water and settled in on her dog bed with her chicken.

  "You want something to drink?" Brady asked.

  "I'd take a glass of water."

  He filled two glasses with ice water and brought them over to the sofa, where Megan had kicked off her shoes and pulled her legs under her.

  Brady sat and handed Megan a glass.

  "Thanks." She took a sip, then set the glass on the coffee table.

  "What did you do today?" he asked.

  "I went to Chelsea's wedding shower out at the McCormack ranch."

  He nodded. "I heard about the shotgun wedding."

  She laughed and nudged him. "It is not a shotgun wedding."

  "Okay, so it's a she's-knocked-up-and-they're-doing-it-in-a-hurry kind of wedding."

  "No, it's more like they want to get the wedding part over with since they found out she's pregnant. But it's not like Bash is in any way reluctant."

  "That's true. He's pretty happy about becoming a dad."

  "He told you that?"

  "Yeah. The other night after basketball, when we all went out to eat. He seems pretty excited."

  "They're both happy. It wasn't the way they planned it, but, you know, sometimes things happen that you don't expect."

  He took a long swallow of water and set it down on the table. "Yup."

  "Speaking of the wedding, that's actually why I came over."

  He arched a brow. "You're not planning to propose or anything, are you?"

  "Hardly."

  "Oh, now I'm offended."

  She snickered and grabbed his forearm, loving the solid warmth of his skin. "No, I wanted to ask if you'd be my date for Chelsea and Bash's wedding next Saturday night."

  "Oh. Sure."

  Well, that was easy. "Great."

  "You know, you didn't have to come all the way over here to ask me that. You could have texted or called me."

  "I could have, but then I wouldn't have seen that amazing bike you painted. And speaking of, how about some pictures?"

  "Oh, right." He dug into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and scrolled through it. "Here are a few I've done recently."

  She looked in awe at all the photos, including the ones he'd described to her when they were on a walk earlier. But there were more, incredibly beautiful photos of other bikes he'd done. They were all magnificent, exceptionally striking, and detailed paint jobs he'd performed.

  She looked up at him. "You are very good at this. You must really love what you do."

  His lips ticked up. "Thanks. It's something I've enjoyed doing for a long time. I'd like to think I've gotten better at it over the years."

  "I'd say you have. Truly, Brady, you're an artist."

  "Nah." He shoved his phone in his pocket. "Kurt was the artist. If you think what I do is good, you should see some of the work he used to do. I actually kept some of his drawings."

  "Show me."

  He tilted his head. "You don't really want to see those, do you?"

  "Of course I do."

  "Okay." He got up and disappeared downstairs. She sipped her water and looked over at Roxie, who was sound asleep on her bed.

  Brady came up a short time later with a box.

  "Just a few things," he said. "My parents have more of his stuff, but there were a few of his things I wanted to keep for myself."

  He took the lid off the box and pulled out a sketchbook. "Kurt was always drawing things. Before he fell into drugs, when he was clearheaded, he was great at it."

  He flipped through the sketchbook and passed it to her. "He had a vivid imagination for fantasy. Like this dragon here. He did this in high school, and ended up painting it on someone's bike years later."

  Megan studied the sketch. "Wow. The level of detail here is amazing for someone so young." She flipped through the pages. "These are all really good."

  "There's more." He handed her book after book. "These are some he did later, when he and I started talking about painting bikes."

  She could see the vision on the pages. "They're so striking. I love the skulls and the demons. Kind of scary beautiful."

  "Right? You should have seen the rendering of that dragon on the bike. The scales were a deep green with gray undertones. He had such an eye for detail."

  She lifted her gaze to his. "So do you."

  He shook his head. "I could never be as good as Kurt was."

  "I beg to differ." She handed the pages back to him. "You're just as talented as your brother was. It's clear you were both artists. You have a very special talent, Brady. Have you ever thought of doing a painting that isn't on a bike?"

  He laid the sketch pad on top of the others, then put the lid on the box. "You mean like on canvas? No. I'm not that kind of artist."

  "But you could be. What you do is art, just in a different form. You could experiment with different mediums."

  "Expressing myself on motorcycles is where I do my best work."

  She laid her hand on his thigh. "I understand that. I just thought maybe you might want to consider painting on canvas. Or even sketching, like Kurt did."

  He frowned. "That was Kurt's thing, not mine. My imagination doesn't work that way."

  "Okay." She could tell she'd touched a nerve, and the last thing she wanted to do was upset him. Brady was so sensitive and raw whenever the topic of his brother came up. She knew to tread lightly, even though at some poi
nt she'd love to be able to have a real, honest conversation with him about his brother.

  She knew the pain inside of him was still a living, breathing thing that continued to hover around him. She wanted so badly to help him eradicate it. But until he was ready to face it and let it go, there wasn't much she could do.

  But when he was ready, she intended to be the one who was going to hold his hand and help him exorcise those painful ghosts.

  As if he wanted more than anything to erase that tense moment, he smiled at her. "I don't know about you, but I'm hungry. You wanna to grab something to eat and then hang out and watch a movie?"

  She was more than grateful to let the moment go as well. So she smiled and nodded. "Sounds like a good plan to me. If you want to come over to my place, I baked some salted caramel muffins we could have for dessert."

  "How's a guy supposed to say no to an invitation like that?"

  "You're not. That's the idea."

  When she stood, he slipped an arm around her waist and tugged her close.

  "I'm glad you stopped by."

  "I'm afraid I interrupted your painting momentum."

  He grinned, then brushed his lips across hers, making her forget all about ghosts to exorcise and her worry about his anxious state.

  "I'll get back to painting the bike tomorrow. You're a good distraction, and now my mind is on other things. Like cheeseburgers, a good movie, and sex. Followed by muffins."

  Her lips curved. "All good ideas, Brady Conners. Except maybe substitute the cheeseburgers with Chinese food."

  "Uh-huh. Obviously we'll discuss it on the way to get the cheeseburgers."

  She laughed as she went to grab Roxie's leash. "Don't forget who wields the muffins."

  He stood at the door. "I'm not going to win this one, am I?"

  She picked up Roxie and scratched her behind the ear. "Not this time."

  "Damn. Chinese food it is."

  Chapter 23

  BRADY FINISHED PUTTING the bike together just in time for his client to pick it up Saturday afternoon.

  It had turned out pretty damn good, with a bright orange base, screaming yellow demons, and red flames.

  "It's just like I described it to you," Randy said, walking around the bike. "It's perfect. More than perfect. You exceeded my expectations, Brady."

  "Glad you like it."

  Randy paid him, exclaimed about the bike for another twenty minutes, and told him he had at least three guys to refer to him, which made Brady happy, since referral business was important.

  He should really think about having business cards made, but Randy had his number, so that worked as well. At some point, once he had his own shop and could launch his business, he'd have all that fancy shit. For now, this would do. He had more than enough work to keep him busy doing the bodywork during the week and the extra custom paint jobs on the nights and weekends. He was banking more money than he had thought he would, getting him closer and closer to his goal of being able to open his own shop.