Don't Let Go (24 page)

BRADY SAT IN
his one-room efficiency in Denver, scrolling through the apartment rentals.

He had a line on a job that looked promising. He'd interviewed at an auto body shop this morning, and the owner told him he'd probably have an offer for him this afternoon, but he'd promised his wife he'd interview her nephew, so he had to go through the motions. But the guy said the nephew didn't have a quarter of the experience or skills that Brady had, so Brady knew he had the job. Which meant he'd have to find a place to live. This efficiency hotel was fine for an interim, but he'd need at least a studio apartment, which would likely be cheaper anyway, from what he'd seen in the apartment rentals section of the real estate ads he'd reviewed.

He put his laptop aside, stood and stretched, then took Roxie for a short walk. He breathed in the cool, crisp air.

Yeah, Denver would work out. He didn't know anyone here, and that suited him just fine. Plus, he liked the mountains. He'd been here before. He and Kurt had come here one January to ski with some friends. They'd had a great time.

He took Roxie to a nearby dog park and let her run loose
with some of the other smaller dogs. She was having a blast, so he picked a bench and sat, keeping a close eye on her. So far, so good. He'd like to find a place near a dog park. Watching Roxie play with the other dogs made him realize she needed some companionship.

He didn't, but his dog definitely did.

He stared up at the mountains, remembering the year he and Kurt had come here. He'd been eighteen, fresh out of high school. Kurt had been twenty, and they'd packed up their car, along with two other friends of Kurt's. They'd rented a one-bedroom condo, mostly crashing on the floor and couches, and skied their asses off.

Hell, that had been fun. He'd been on a lot of fun adventures with his brother. Camping trips and canoeing and hunting. Except for the one year he'd found Kurt facedown and passed out, stoned out of his mind, when they'd taken a summer vacation in Fort Lauderdale. God, he'd been scared to death that time. But he'd been able to rouse his brother, who'd told him it was no big deal.

Yeah, no big deal. He'd believed him then. And so many other times when Kurt had told him to mind his own business, that he could handle the addiction.

There'd been good times with Kurt. And some shitty times, too.

It struck him right then that no matter where he went, no matter how many places he traveled to—his memories of Kurt would always travel with him.

He'd never get his brother out of his head. Those life experiences he'd shared with his brother—the good and the bad—would always be with him.

He hadn't left Hope because of Kurt. He'd left Hope because of himself, because he was afraid to lose what he'd built there.

Friendships. Love.

Megan.

That fear had become a real, tangible thing. And now he was afraid he'd really lost everything he'd built, everyone he cared about.

He looked up at the clear blue sky, at the mountains, at the beauty of the landscape, and suddenly that landscape shifted. All he could see was the warmth of a beautiful smiling face, gorgeous brown hair, and melting brown eyes.

He called to Roxie, and they headed back to the efficiency. He dug through his things and found a brand-new sketch pad, then pulled out a pencil. He tore the wrapper off the sketch pad, the ideas coming fast and furious now. He propped his feet on the coffee table and started drawing.

When his phone rang, he glanced at the number, then ignored it and kept drawing.

He had to get these images out of his head and onto paper. Then, he had to get back to Hope.

And hope like hell it wasn't too late to make things right.

IT WAS A
crap day. Megan had been up all night, because the thunderstorms blowing through town had been furious. First, they'd knocked out the power, and then the thunder had been so loud it had kept her up. By the time the power had come back on, it had been an hour until she was due to get up and go to the bakery, so she went in early, hoping the power was on at the bakery.

Fortunately, it was, so at least she had a head start on her baking for the day. She was more than ready by the time the bakery opened. And apparently everyone coming in was as cranky as she was, because they wanted coffee and pastries in a hurry. She and Stacy had their hands full until there was enough of a lull for Megan to start cleaning up in the back. By the time they put out the closed sign, they both looked at each other in utter exhaustion.

Stacy helped her clean the kitchen, then Megan ran to the bank, and she had nothing in mind other than falling facedown in bed and sinking into oblivious sleep for at least an hour. She was certain she'd feel a lot better after a nap.

The rain had settled into a steady downpour—minus the thunder and lightning—so she planned on letting the sound of it lull her into a lovely sleep.

What she hadn't planned on was seeing a motorcycle in her driveway, or Brady standing on her porch.

She got out and ran to the porch. “It's raining.”

He smiled at her, the first smile she'd seen from him in what seemed like forever. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“You're all wet.”

He reached out and grasped a tendril of her soaking wet hair. “So are you.”

“Why are you—never mind. Let's go inside.”

She unlocked the front door, and he followed her inside. She turned to him. “Wait here.”

She threw her purse on the island, then went into the bathroom to grab two towels. When she came out, she threw one at him. “Dry off.”

She did the same, shrugging out of the jacket she'd hastily thrown on at the bakery. Not that it had done much good. She was still wet. And now she was cold.

And mad. “What are you doing here, Brady?”

“I came to see you.”

“All the way from . . . wherever it was you left Hope for?”

“I was in Denver.”

“Long drive just to see me.”

“You're worth it.”

She frowned. “Don't be nice to me.”

“Ohhkay. Why not?”

“Because you weren't nice to me the last time we were together.”

“I know. About that . . .” He reached for her and she backed away.

“You hurt me.”

He had the decency to look ashamed. “I know I did. I'd like to talk to you about that.”

She used the towel to dry her hair. “I don't know if I want to talk to you anymore. The last time didn't go so well.”

“Please, Megan. I have a lot of things to talk to you about.”

She supposed she had to make a decision about that, rather than let him stand there dripping wet on her tile floor.

“Fine. I'm going to go change clothes. Dry off and I'll make some coffee. Providing you don't have any criticisms about me making coffee.”

“No. I'd like some coffee. Thanks.”

“I'll be right back.” She started to turn away, then stopped as a realization hit her. “Where's Roxie?”

“She's at Carter's shop. I stopped there first, so Molly's watching her.”

“Good to know. I just wanted to make sure you didn't dump her, too.”

He looked down at the floor, then back up at her. “I guess I deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.”

She went into the bedroom and changed into dry clothes, then headed into the bathroom for a quick blow-dry of her hair. She knew she was leaving him out there a lot longer than she should, but the hell with it. He'd dumped her and left her. If he had to wait ten extra minutes while she dried her hair, that wasn't too much to ask, was it?

She came out and he was sitting at the island nursing a cup of coffee.

“I made one for you, too,” he said.

“Good to see you still remember where everything is.”

“I remember everything about you, Megan. And I was only gone for a couple of weeks.”

An eternity to her broken heart, but she wouldn't mention that to him.

Even with his hair slicked back and wet, he was a force of sexy male. In some ways, it was good to see him. In others, it was traumatic, because if he'd come back due to some crisis of conscience and he wanted to apologize for his behavior in order to get some kind of decent closure, it was only going to rip her heart out all over again. She didn't think she'd be able to handle it.

But she supposed she'd only know if she asked. “Okay, Brady, why are you here?”

“First, to apologize for the way I treated you in the days leading up to and on the day I left.”

She wanted to wince. This was it. This was his apology and his closure. She braced herself.

“Okay. Is that it?”

“No, that's not it. There's a lot more. I went to Denver so I could start over, forget about everything here. Forget Hope. Forget the friends I made.”

She waited.

“Forget you.”

Okay, that hurt more than she had expected it to.

“And? Did you?”

His lips curved in a wry smile. “Hell no. It only got worse. I was trying to run away from everything I felt. Everything I cared about. Everything I loved.”

She'd been studying her coffee, but when he said
love
, her gaze snapped to his. “What?”

“While I was there, I started thinking about Kurt, about the good times—and the not so good times. At first I thought I was trying to get away from all the memories I had of him. Then I realized I'd never be able to escape the legacy of my brother, because no matter where I am, Kurt is always going to be a part of my life.”

“Of course he is. You can't erase those memories, Brady. The good ones or the bad ones.”

“I know. It took me a while, but I finally came to grips with that. I also came to the realization that I just have to let it go. I have to let him go.”

Well, that was something. “I guess that's a good thing?”

“It is. But in the meantime, something else happened while I was in Denver.”

She frowned. “What happened?”

“I was sitting in a dog park with Roxie, and suddenly the only images in my head were of you. So I went back to the hotel where I was staying and I got out a blank sketchbook. I want you to take a look at what I drew.”

She cocked her head to the side. “You made sketches?”

“Yeah.” He pulled a sketchbook from his backpack and handed it to her.

She flipped open to the first page and saw a penciled drawing of her face. Uncannily, it looked exactly like her.

She glanced up at Brady. “You sketched. You told me you never sketch.”

“I was inspired. You were suddenly in my head and you were all I could think of. All these images hit me at once and I had to get them down.”

He motioned with his head to the sketchbook, so she flipped to the next page. Her at the bakery behind the counter. Waiting on customers. She kept flipping pages. Her sitting on the grass by the lake. Here at the house. Playing with Roxie.

They were incredible. Page after page of sketches of her. Some were just random drawings. Her face. Her smiling. Her laughing. But others were incredibly detailed. Her dancing at Chelsea's wedding, one of her wearing his shirt—and only his shirt. She blushed at that one. She'd never seen anything like these.

When she got to another page, it was pictures of cars and bikes. He'd drawn the side of a car with dents, then another one of it smoothed out.

She looked up at him.

“I was trying to figure out what was wrong in my life,” he said. “When I work on a car that's been damaged, I can see perfectly how to fix it. How to smooth out the dents and the damage.”

She flipped to the next page and she saw a man's body, bent over and broken, the limbs not in the right places.

“That's me, Megan.”

His voice had gone soft.

“I've spent all these years railing about my brother—about how fucked up his life was. All I could see was this wall with Kurt on one side and me on the other. Turns out he and I weren't so different. He might have had an addiction to drugs, but I'm messed up, too, just in a different way.”

When he looked up at her, she saw so much pain and misery on his face it took everything in her not to go to him and wrap her arms around him. But she held back, knowing he needed to give voice to what was inside of him.

“It took me a long time to figure out that I'm the one who's broken, Megan.”

Her heart did a small leap. She looked again at the sketch, then at him. “What do you mean by that?”

“I'm a master at fixing cars. But I can't fix myself without help. I need you. I screwed this all up. I spent so much time isolating myself after Kurt died, thinking that if I held it all in I'd be fine. And then you and everyone else pulled me out and made me start living life again, and I thought if I could do that without feeling anything, I'd be okay.

“But the problem was, I couldn't do that without feeling, because you made me feel things I'd never felt before. I never even realized I was falling in love with you until it was too late, and once I did realize it I got scared and I ran away from you as fast as I could. I didn't want to feel that deeply, and because of that I hurt you. I don't have enough words to say I'm sorry for that.”

Her heart pounded as she listened to him talk. He hadn't come back for closure. He'd come back to tell her he loved her. But could she trust him? She'd told him when he left that at some point he'd need her and she wouldn't be there for him.

Was she really the type of person who could walk away when he was this vulnerable?

Then again, she'd been vulnerable, too. She'd laid out her heart to him, and he'd stomped all over it. He'd not only stomped all over it—he'd kicked it on his way out the door.

She looked down at the sketches. “These are amazing, Brady. Thank you for drawing them.”

“They poured out of me. Every feeling, every emotion I'd tried to hold back for so long, I suddenly couldn't hold them inside anymore. Because of you—because of how I feel about you.”

She was trying so hard to stand firm, to keep her own emotions in check.

She delayed by flipping through the sketchbook. There, on the last page, was that man with the broken body, lying on the ground. And above him, was an angel—an angel who looked a lot like her. She was reaching for him, their fingers almost touching.

“I'm not complete without you, Megan. I need you.”

Tears filled her eyes as she lifted her gaze to his.

“I love you,” he said. “I'm so sorry I hurt you. I'm sorry I left you. I'm not whole without you. Please forgive me.”

No, she wasn't the kind of heartless person who could walk away from a broken person who needed her.

He loved her. And she wasn't complete without him, either.

She laid the sketch pad on the island and slid off the chair and stepped between his legs. His arms came around her, and she'd never felt anything better than the warmth of his embrace.

“God, I've missed holding you,” he said as she laid her head on his chest.

“I've missed you, too.” She put her arms around him.

He smoothed his hands over her back, and she nestled in closer, breathing in his familiar scent. She might never move away from him. For the first time since he left, everything felt right again.

“I love you, Brady.”

He pulled back and he looked at her. “I love you. I mean those words. They're not ones I take lightly, because I've never said them to another woman before.”

She shuddered in a breath, and then he kissed her and she felt those same dizzying heights she always experienced when his mouth was on hers. It was like being lost somewhere magical, where only the two of them existed.

They didn't need to say anything as she led him to her bedroom. They undressed and got reacquainted with each other's bodies, taking their time to run their hands over each other.

And when he entered her, it was with their gazes locked on each other, with such intimacy it took Megan's breath away. She knew then that Brady was fully there with her, his fingers entwined with her as he moved against her in slow, fluid movements. He took his time in such a sweet, sensual way, and when she climaxed, he kissed her, groaned against her, came with her. It brought tears to her eyes and he kissed them as they rolled down her cheeks.

After, he stayed locked within her.

“Good tears, I hope?” he asked.

She smiled up at him. “Yes. Good tears.”

They stayed entwined together in bed for a while, their legs draped over each other.

“What are you going to do now?” she asked.

“I talked briefly with Carter. We'll talk more tomorrow. I already apologized for leaving and explained that I needed to get my head right. Because Carter's a great guy, he told me I could have my job back. He hasn't hired anyone to replace me yet.”

She smoothed her hand up his arm. “That's great.”

“Yeah. But I think it's time for me to move on, so I'll take the job back for now. But I'll let Carter know it's only temporary. I want to look at that building Reid mentioned.”

“The one you wouldn't discuss with me when I asked you about it.”

His look turned serious. “Yes. I'm sorry. That was kind of the catalyst for my panic and my running. Thinking about the future. About who I wanted to be. Where I wanted to be. But mainly you and me. Reid also told me about a plot of land near where he and Sam live that's for sale. A place where I could potentially build a house. And that got me to thinking about you and me and forever.”

Her breath caught. “What?”