Page 130 of When the Storm Breaks
“Thought I’d leave that up to you.”
“I’m gonna call him Spider-Man.”
I laughed. “You think he looks like a Spider-Man?”
He looked down at the framed photo on his hand. “He looks like he could use a best friend. I’ll be his best friend.”
And my fucking heart cracked just a little bit more. I scrubbed my hand over my face to hide my emotions. Lila squeezed my arm. Kate gave me a little smile and nodded as if to say that everything was going to work out just fine. But I had no idea how that could possibly be true when everything was broken beyond repair.
* * *
One week later,on a Sunday evening, I showed up at the Petersons’ front door. I’d just dropped Noah off after having spent the weekend with him and I wanted to try to make things right.
Dale answered the door, looking wary as if he was nervous that I’d plant my fist in his face. “What did you need, Brody?”
He didn’t open the door all the way nor did he invite me into his home. That said it all, didn’t it? But fuck it, I was here for Noah, so I’d say my piece despite the chilly reception. “You can think whatever you want about me…” I refrained from adding that I didn’t give a shit what he thought of me. “But my boy deserves better. Don’t punish him for the sins of his father.” The irony wasn’t lost on me.
He rocked back on his heels and tucked his hands in the pockets of his pressed khakis. “We just don’t feel comfortable letting Hayley spend time with you. As a father, I’m sure you can understand where we’re coming from.”
I wanted to argue that I was the same man who had hosted all those playdates for Hayley and Noah. I hadn’t changed, but the media had painted me to look like a villain. A man with a history of violence just like his ‘father’. In the days following that first story, they’d dredged up more shit about me and unleashed a media storm. My mother was a junkie, my father was a murderer. I was the spawn of the devil.
People came out of the woodwork, speaking up about Brody McCallister’s ‘character’ or lack thereof. The asshole sheriff had confirmed that I’d been a juvenile delinquent and as far as he could tell, I was still a brawler and a rule breaker with a bad attitude. Hell, there were even guys from my rodeo days who claimed I had a quick temper and was always the first one to throw a punch. A woman I’d supposedly slept with claimed that I’d ‘roughed her up.’ That was a goddamn lie. I’d never laid a hand on any woman. Everyone wanted their twenty seconds of fame. The truth got twisted, the stories were sensationalized and that video of me punching Landry had gone viral. Interestingly, Landry came out looking like the victim, my ‘attack’ unprovoked according to him. Fucking weasel.
By now, my story was yesterday’s news, taking a backseat to all the other scandals going on in the world of celebrity gossip. But once that shit was on the Internet, you couldn’t do a damn thing about it and you couldn’t make it go away. It was out there for everyone to Google and read about.
“Hayley is Noah’s best friend, and I don’t want him to lose her because of me,” I told Dale.
He nodded. “I can understand that. They’re still friends. Noah’s a good kid. Meredith and I are happy to let them play together. But like I said, we’re not too comfortable leaving our baby girl with you. We’ve decided that would be best for now. For our own peace of mind.”
How could I fault them for wanting to protect their daughter? I couldn’t. Having no choice but to accept it, I nodded. “Thanks for your time. Sorry to interrupt your Sunday.”
“Thanks for stopping by.”
My eye caught on Hayley who had come to stand next to her dad. He put his hand on her shoulder as if to stop her from taking a step closer to the bad guy. She smiled at me, the dimples in her cheeks making an appearance and I returned her smile. Then the door closed in my face, blocking my view of Shiloh’s little girl. It felt like I’d lost the very last piece of Shiloh. Like there was nothing left of our relationship except for the memories. And I had a shitload of them.
Some days I wished I could shut them off. Whenever I closed my eyes, I saw her face. I heard her voice in my head. And I remembered all the good times we’d had. The smiles and laughter, the sex and intimate moments, and all our conversations when we opened up and shared pieces of our soul with each other. Even though she was gone and there was no hope in hell she’d ever come back, I couldn’t stop loving her or missing her or hoping she was okay. All I’d ever wanted was to be the man who never failed her. The one man in her life who would be there for her through thick and thin, the one person she could rely on when she didn’t know who to trust. But that wasn’t how it worked out.
I was there the night Michael Jenkins shot and killed Shiloh’s mom. I stayed in the car like he’d told me to do. Scared shitless that if I didn’t do as he said he’d punish me for it. What kind of a monster would bring an eight-year-old kid to an armed robbery? I’d hidden in the back seat. It was dark and I was scared, and I heard the screams, and sirens from the police car. But I’d stayed hidden. By the time the cops had found me, I’d peed my pants. I’d been so ashamed for peeing my pants that I’d refused to answer any of their questions. After that night, I’d blocked the memory, never to be revisited.
Until the night Landry had shown up at Shiloh’s hotel room and flashed his phone in front of my face, forcing me to confront a sick and twisted turn of events I’d never in a million years have thought possible.
What were the chances that my path would have crossed Shiloh’s on that fateful night? One in a million.
* * *
Later that evening,I went to visit Phoenix in the pasture. She came right over to me when I whistled, like she knew it was her I’d come to see.
“Look at you. You’re a beauty, aren’t you?” I rubbed behind her ears and she nudged her nose against my side. “Yeah, I brought you something. Don’t tell the others. They’ll get jealous.”
I fished the apple wedges out of my pocket and fed them to her. “What am I going to do with you now? You were born to do better things than hang out in a pasture all day.”
Phoenix didn’t have an answer for me.
“Talking to your horses now?” Ridge asked, joining me next to the fence.
I’d always talked to my horses, but I didn’t usually have an audience. I side-eyed him. He’d just come home from work and smelled like smoke from the barbecue pit. The bruises on his face had faded but I still remembered his words, that he wouldn’t let anyone talk shit about his brother. Ridge and I had come a long way over the past year. “You doing okay?”
“Better than you.”
