Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 121296 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 606(@200wpm)___ 485(@250wpm)___ 404(@300wpm)
“I wasn’t on board at first,” he says gruffly. “Didn’t vote for it. Told Conway it was foolish to drag some poor woman into this mess.”
I watch him, surprised he’s opening up at all. His profile is sharp and unforgiving, but there’s a crack in the armor now. A sliver of vulnerability.
“Why?”
Brody shrugs, jaw working like he’s chewing on words he’s never said out loud. “We’ve already failed at it. Three times. Good women. Strong women. None could handle this life…” He shakes his head. “Couldn’t handle us.” He glances sideways at me, his gaze sharp. “You wouldn’t stay, either.”
I don’t take the bait. I don’t flinch.
“I’m not here to stay,” I say honestly. “I’m here to write.”
The wind shifts, carrying the faint scent of hay and musty animals.
Brody nods again like he expected the answer. “Good. Don’t let them charm you. Don’t let them under your skin or into your heart. This place looks pretty until you’re stuck in it. Get out while you can.”
I let the silence hang, let his words land, but deep down, something twists. A small seed of defiance.
“Maybe you’re wrong about me,” I say, softer this time but steady.
Brody doesn’t move for a second. Then, the corner of his mouth tugs upward with the faintest ghost of a smile. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
***
We return to the truck in silence. Brody stays a step ahead, shoulders tense but looser than before, like a man who’s finally laid down a burden.
The others are out by the barns, moving hay and tending to horses. The kids’ laughter drifts faintly across the fields. They must be done with their lessons and enjoying some wild time.
We leave the vehicle parked at a casual angle. As we approach the house, Brody slows and then stops just shy of the porch.
“For what it’s worth,” he says, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck, “you didn’t quit out there. Most would’ve.”
I meet his gaze, holding steady. “I don’t scare easily.”
His lips quirk again, the barest flicker of approval. “Figured that out.”
We stand there, the space between us lighter somehow, a thread of understanding tugging at the rough edges.
“Thanks for letting me come today,” I say, meaning it.
Brody tips his hat back a fraction, eyes squinting. “That’s Conway’s doing.”
I grin. “You didn’t stop me.”
He grunts, mouth twitching. “Don’t push your luck, city girl.” He’s two paces further away when he calls over his shoulder, “And don’t forget what I said.”
He strides toward the barn, leaving me with the knowledge that I’ve earned at least a sliver of ground. The Brody Delaney puzzle isn’t solved by a long shot, but I feel like I’ve unpicked the first thread.
20
BRODY
I watch from the porch as Grace disappears with the kids down the dirt path toward the fence line and the rusty old swing set. Beau trots happily beside them, tail wagging like a damn fool. Their voices float back on the evening breeze—off-key nursery rhymes, squeals of laughter. Bright sounds that don’t belong out here in all this space and silence.
Junie’s leading the pack, strutting like she owns the land, dressed in her glittery tutu. Matty’s spinning in circles, arms flailing, scuffed knees still healing from the last time he fell over. The twins are already plotting mischief, racing ahead to climb the fence even though they’ve been warned a thousand times. Rory bounces along on Grace’s hip, his grin so much like Levi’s, it makes me want to laugh.
But it’s Eli that stops me cold.
That kid rarely smiles and hasn’t skipped since her mom left with a single suitcase and no note, like none of us mattered, especially her kids.
Now? She’s running after Beau, skipping, cheeks flushed with pure joy as Grace calls after her to “be careful, wild girl.”
My jaw tightens with a raw, gnawing ache I don’t have a name for, and feel ridiculous for allowing. The screen door slams behind me. Time to get inside before someone notices me standing, watching like a goddamn sap.
Inside, the big dining table is set up like a council of war. Chairs scraped into place, steaming coffee mugs ready, papers spread out before Conway, ready for strategic discussion. My eldest cousin could make the drafting of a shopping list as serious as a National Security review. The overhead light flickers once, like it knows what’s coming.
Conway stands at the head, arms crossed, eyes dark and steady. His gaze flicks around the room, waiting for everyone to settle. Levi leans back on his chair like he owns the joint, Harrison’s already scribbling something on the notepad he keeps in his pocket, and Lennon’s got his usual clipboard balanced on one knee.
The tension is a living thing in the room.
I take my spot at the end, folding my arms across my chest. The chair creaks beneath me, loud in the quiet.