Page 7 of Hard to Break

“Why did you agree to go hiking with me? You hate winter hiking.”

“But I love you.” Her wide smile eases the tension in my chest.

“I love you too,” I say and mean it. Nova’s friendship is one of the greatest gifts I’ve found here in Denver.

We start back up, slower this time.

“You ever decide you don’t want to do this art thing any longer, you could have a long and successful career as a motivational speaker,” I inform her. “You and Clay could take your act on the road—high-performance stress management.”

She laughs. “Can you imagine Clay being a motivational speaker?”

“He’d be great. Except for the motivational part. And the speaking part.”

Nova’s phone vibrates, and when she glances at it her eyes light up. “Yes! I have some interest in a show from this gallery in LA I’ve followed for years.”

“That’s amazing!” I peer over her shoulder at the profile for Coastal Gallery.

They have a large following and have featured an eyebrow-raising array of prominent artists. Working with them would be huge for my friend’s career.

“There’s a problem.” She makes a face. “When I show them my new pieces, they find an excuse or ask about things I’ve done before this year.”

There’s a clearing in the trees, and I force myself up the last couple feet and step out into it. A drop-off in front of us offers a sweeping view of mountains and a frozen river.

Nova’s right behind me. “Oh wow. It’s gorgeous.”

I turn toward my friend, soaking in her flushed cheeks, the pink braids sticking out from under her hat. She’s such a bright spirit with a kind of earnest fearlessness that’s admirable.

“It’s like you said—change is hard,” I decide. “But we’ll show the world that the beauty is worth the risk, starting with Coastal Gallery.”

3

MILES

For most of my life, I wasn’t invested in who was the big or little spoon. Cuddling with another person, sharing their space, never made my wish list.

But since Brooke moved in, there’s no hotel bed that can stack up to the feel of this woman in my arms. Her skin against mine. Her back fitted to my front so that I can see her, smell her, feel her. It’s Brooke in surround sound.

She can call me out, wrap me around her damned finger, but she’s still my little spoon.

I brush her hair back to murmur against her ear, “Morning, Princess.”

She grumbles a response.

Without any intervention, she can sleep until noon. Maybe that’s why I was able to seduce her—through coffee. Whatever the reason, I’ll take it.

Last night, I went over to Grams’s new retirement home to check that the new furniture I got her had been delivered and installed. It also took my mind off the shoe deal. The first payment is supposed to come in once we announce all-star week, whether I land a spot or not.

But I haven’t heard anything lately, and the meeting with Chloe and management is still on my mind.

Apologize to Kevin.

When I updated Brooke on the meeting yesterday, I left that part out.

There’s no way I’m apologizing to the piece of shit who thought he could make her life hell—the one who seems as if he’s decided he’s not over the tiny bit of payback he got when I slammed my fist into his face years ago and told him never to go near her again.

My hand twinges thinking about it.

He’s not coming back.

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