Page 78 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“I’ve been so wrapped up in this Gold Crest nonsense, I haven’t. Why, what’s going on?”

“Nothing. He just… All that stuff with his dad. He hates to ask for help, even when he desperately needs it. I’m still surprised he asked the other vets for help. But while the vets have Ron, Brady doesn’t have anyone. He always thinks he’s a burden, so he’ll keep to himself, avoid phone calls, and texts, which he’s been doing the last few days. He’s done it since we were kids. Franc and I usually figure it out eventually and go to him, but he has you now.”

“I was going to call him, but I’ll swing by his place instead.”

“Thanks.”

Brady might not have been blood, but to Laurent, Franc, and everyone else in our family, he might as well have been. We looked out for our own, and Brady was our own. But I wanted to be that person for him now.

“He’ll resist,” Laurent said. “Just be you and you’ll be fine.”

“I don’t know whether to be offended or flattered.”

Laurent smirked. “Maybe a little of both.”

I glanced toward the window; the sun had set long ago, but the stars twinkled above, the streetlights shining across the parking lot. Brady was a stubborn pain in the ass, and I knew this would be a battle, but for Brady, I wouldn’t just go to battle; I would go to war. He was worth fighting for, and it was about time he knew that.

“Anything else I need to know before I get there?” I shoved my notebook in my bag and stood from my desk.

Laurent rubbed his chin. “He won’t say it, but he’s hurting more than he leads on. Don’t let him push you away.”

Brady had been battling the world on his own for too damn long, and that ended tonight. If we were going to be together like he proudly announced to Odette, then that meant he didn’t carry everything alone anymore. Being together was more than sex and holding hands. It was about standing beside each other when the weight of the world got too heavy to bear and when those voices in your head said you weren’t enough. Brady had been listening to those voices for too long.

I marched toward the door. “He can try.”

He could fight me, push me away all he wanted, but I wasn’t going anywhere.

Not now.

Not ever. And it was about damn time he knew that.

***

The wind cut through my dress pants and goosebumps exploded on my legs. I was in a rush and forgot my coat. I had plenty more at home. I could deal with the cold for now.

Winter was rearing its ugly head, and it was only a matter of time before the temperatures continued to drop. Normally I hated the cold, harsh winters, but the thought of sitting by the fire with Brady, reading our books while Jack cuddled at our feet shot warmth through my body.

We could have it all if I could convince him he deserved it. I drove through town and made my way to Brady’s cabin in the woods. He said this house was his escape away from everyone, but now I wondered if it was because he didn’t feel like he fully belonged in the community. He’d always been an outcast, and even as an adult, he continued to allow himself to be just on the outskirts, never fully belonging.

I pulled into his driveway and threw my car in park behind his truck. Without hesitation, I hopped out of the car and went right to his front door. My heels clicked on the wood planks, echoing in the still night around me. I raised my hand and knocked hard.

A moment later, Brady yanked the door open, but his eyes widened when he took me in. He was probably expecting Franc or Laurent.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said with an edge, but his voice was gruff and raw, as if he’d been shoving down emotion for far too long.

I stood my ground, refusing to let him intimidate me in any way or to feel guilty for showing up for him. “Why?”

His face contorted in anger, jaw tightening, lips pressing together. “I don’t want him near you.”

Jack ran past his legs and into the wooded area along the perimeter of the yard.

“Fuck,” Brady muttered and slammed the door behind him probably before Fanny could escape. He stepped onto the porch with me. He was so close, yet he felt so far away.

I reached for him, but he leaned away from my touch. I didn’t let it wound me. He didn’t want to push me away; it was just his defense mechanism to protect himself. He needed reassurance, not someone who would take his words at face value.

“Let me help.”

He turned from me, pacing the porch, and shoving his hand over his hair that was pulled into a tight bun. “There’s no checklist for this. You can’t fix it.”

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