Bittersweet Moments Page 3

  “You need to leave.” Nate’s commanding voice rockets through the space that seems to be closing in on me.

  “Do you still love me?” Brax ignores Nate, his eyes never leaving me. I want to scream yes, but people outside this life can’t comprehend the sacrifices I have to make to keep myself sane, and to keep my only friend, who happens to double as my bodyguard, safe and breathing.

  At this moment, I know Brax was my version of playing with fire, and I just burned the house down.

  “I never did,” I lie, trying to force a smile, but my lips only slightly twitch upward. My throat constricts, blocking off most of my airflow. My dress is too tight and my skin burns.

  “You are a coward,” he spits out. It’s true; I wish I could stand up for myself. I hate that I can’t. But if I were to say the truth, I would be killing our baby’s future.

  The thought of that drives me to hurt the only man I’ve ever loved. A future with my baby is worth more than one without him. It’s the only way I can live with myself for my next action.

  “Brax, you’ve never been the only one.” I need him off this property and away from everyone connected to me. In this moment, I know what I have to do next. The only way I can secure myself is to run away from all this. “I’m getting engaged tonight to another man.”

  Nate glances over his shoulder, needing to see if I’m telling the truth. It’s the truth my family wants. I have a hard time looking at both of them. The pain in my chest is overwhelming.

  I watch as Brax stumbles backward. I’m not sure if it’s my ugly truth that pushed him back or the fact that he drank too much to be steady on his feet. His mouth gapes open before he takes off his signature baseball cap, showcasing his wild, sun-kissed hair underneath. His fingers roll the mesh into his palm at the same time his hands pull.

  I hear my mother call into the room—something she never does, as it’s not lady like to raise your voice. Every now and then, my mother comes to my rescue. This is one of those times. I know my father will be on her heels shortly.

  “Go home, Brax,” I firmly say. “You smell like cheap booze.” Then I set my gaze on Nate. “Get rid of him.”

  Nate steps forward, ready to use his muscles to get Brax off the property, while I turn, meeting my mother’s questioning face.

  “Who was that, dear? And why did you answer the door?”

  “Mother, people answer their own door all the time. It’s weird that we don’t.” I roll my eyes. My adrenaline has spiked through the roof. My feet feel as unsteady as Brax’s. I stand, not trusting my feet to move me forward, wishing I had a glass of champagne in my hands to give my vibrating fingers something to grasp.

  “I’m proud of you.” The words are barely a whisper, making me think I imagined them. Looking back at my mother, there is something in her eyes.

  Stepping toward her, I give her a hug. Her petite frame holds me tight, like she knows this will be the last time she hugs me. My eyes must give me away, and the fact that she knows I can be spontaneously reckless when I feel like I have no other options. Right now, my head spins as I wing each of my movements, yet this hug shows me my mother may know me better than I do myself.

  CHAPTER 6

  I walk into the butler area, taking a freshly poured flute of champagne. No one dares to tell me no. They replace the one I take with another just as fast. The bubbles dance up my nose from swallowing it fast. My hand reaches out to take another before it pauses.

  What the hell am I doing?

  Slowly, I take the second glass, not wanting the household staff to talk, before heading back to my bedroom where I plan to leave it. Nate is already waiting at my door, like he already anticipated my actions before I did.

  “You have that crazy look in your eyes,” he observes.

  I take in his words, my lips puckering as I think about what level of crazy I can get away with. Stepping around him, I enter my room, going into my closet to pull out a large handful of clothes and scattering them around my room until no floor is seen.

  “Do we need to talk about this?” Nate cautiously asks, his forehead ruffling as he takes in my out-of-character actions.

  “It’s probably safer if we don’t.” I look around my room for anything that I truly treasure. Picking up a recent photograph of my family, I place it in the middle of my bed along with the one picture I have of me graduating college. Changing my mind, I rip my bed sheet off before only replacing my picture on my naked mattress, hoping it’s the only thing to not burn. Placing my hands on my hips, I wonder if that’s what I want to leave behind. It will be the only thing my parents will have left of me.

  “I’m pretty sure you do need my help.” I look up to see him sitting at my vanity table, his legs crossed as he watches me with amusement. “Because, honey, my life is attached to yours.”

  I think about the meaning behind his advice. It’s true; if something were to ever happen to me, he would have the same fate laid down for him. If I go through with my plan, Nate would not survive it if he stays behind.

  The level of trust we need to pull off this insane idea is astronomical. I stand there staring at him, deciding our fates. Minutes pass, my heart pounding with anticipation, then I hear our butler greet betrothal number one. It’s only then I nod. I can’t have Nate die, because I have no interest in staying.

  Betrothal number two is heard next as the voices echo up the stairs into my open bedroom.

  “Let’s burn it down.” A crazy giggle bubbles out of my throat, my smile hurting my face. I’ve gone mad. I’m losing it. “And live the lives we dreamed about.”

  Nate stands up, nodding, his face ever serious.

  “You have two hours to pick your husband.” His dry sense of humor makes me laugh harder before I curtsy to him. I will give my father the illusion he gets to marry off his daughter tonight, because come morning, he will have to live with the idea of burying me.

  I have no idea what Nate will have to do to pull off this type of plot, while keeping us alive and off everyone’s radar. But if anyone can do it, it’s him.

  I walk out of my room and down the stairs to kiss my father on the cheek. His typically angry, pinched features are relaxed, as he gets to finally pick a husband for me. He’s been waiting for this moment since before I was born.

  *

  The woman in blue that stood in front of me is not my Raya. My thumbs dig into my shoulder muscles that line my neck, as I pace back and forth. That Raya had the joy of life sucked out of her. Her face and eyes haunted me as she continued to tell me lies.

  There are two things I am sure of: One, she was scared, and two, she still loves me.

  Opening up my motel room door to go see Raya once again, I trip over the newspaper rolled into a plastic delivery bag outside. Bending over to pick it up, the picture catches my attention. Raya’s gorgeous face stares into mine.

  Heiress Dies in Blazing Fire

  I read the thick bold headline over and over again, looking for any clue that this is not my girl. Lowering my eyes, I read the next line.

  Raya Stratton’s body found in ashes along with her bodyguard.

  Sources have confirmed the body of Raya Stratton and her bodyguard have been recovered from her parents’ burned home after an explosion sparked the five-alarm blaze. She is the only child to the billionaire tycoon Joseph Stratton. He is most known for his research in natural resources and his stand against global warming. Police are still investigating the cause of the fire, but the deaths are not being treated as suspicious.

  The paper falls from my hands, needing to place them on the wall beside me as I become lightheaded. This is impossible. Visions of my last serious girlfriend, Cynthia, come to mind. She’s dead as well—not from a fire, but at the hands of my sister, who allowed our brother to take the fall for her.

  I can feel my knees buckling under me then the hard carpet hitting my knees as I do nothing to stop the fall.

  It can’t be. Not again, not another woman I love. I refuse to bel
ieve it. There is no way.

  My mind shuffles, trying to explain the newspaper article, but no explanation comes. I have to see it for myself.

  Driving to her house, I expect to see it in one piece, the perfect white mansion of the elite. I even make a vow that I will leave her alone, knowing she’s better here anyway. What I don’t expect is to see the remains of a once great house all black and half fallen in.

  I stop the car, not caring where on the street. There is still a crowd of people in front looking at the mess. I walk up to the tape with a purpose. “Raya,” I holler, hoping just maybe she will answer me. Taking another step closer, I duck under the tape, consequences be damned, when I’m yelled at to stand back. I ignore the voice, needing to see for myself. I won’t be able to let her go until I can see with my own eyes. I don’t feel the hands on me pulling me back at first. I’m too consumed with finding her.

  The next few days stay a blur. The image of her house is in my mind’s eye at all times. I stand at the back for her funeral, watching her parents go through the same grief as me.

  Waking up at her tombstone, I have no idea how long I’ve been here. My eyes hurt from the sun; my clothes are days old. I have seen her mother come to this same place multiple times and cry as I have.

  “You need to go home, son,” a kind voice says to me. Her face has a halo around it, making her look like an angel, an angel that looks like an older version of Raya.

  “Raya, am I dead?” The thought doesn’t frighten me, knowing we can spend eternity together.

  “You need to go home, Brax,” she tells me. “Sleeping at her grave won’t fix this. You need to go home to your family now.”

  Looking down at the tombstone, I see my bottle in a brown paper bag. That must have been how I fell asleep here. Turning my head back to the angel, I see she’s gone.

  Slowly, I pick myself up and take a sniff. I could use a shower; I look like a homeless man. Raya won’t be coming back to me, so it’s time to leave.

  “I will never love another like you.” Bringing my hand to my lips, I place it on the warming stone. “Until next time.”

  On the way home, I decided the ranch will now always come first. No more women—my heart has been broken too many times. I’ll prove myself through my career. I’ll give Three Rivers a reason to talk about me, and that reason will only be my success. Soon, even I will forget how love feels, as I will push it out of my life.

  CHAPTER 7

  5 years later

  “I’m not going,” I flat out state, pacing in front of my kitchen window. “I can’t. It’s irresponsible.” My hands turn to hold onto the steel sink, feeling the verge of a panic attack about to hit my lungs. I try to focus on the cold under my hands as I try to get my breathing under control.

  Feeling my lungs lighten, I lift my head to watch little Madden going up and down on the small plastic slide we found at the church garage sale. He has the same piercing blue-gray eyes as Brax, with dark brown hair that neither he nor I possess, at least naturally.

  I place my now dark chestnut-colored hair behind my ear. My reflection showcases my bright green eyes, covering up my once earthy toned irises. My lips are flattened, my worried eyes staring past my image and hitting Nate’s behind me.

  “I love you, girl, but you need friends. You can’t make Madden your whole life.” Nate’s voice hits me like a sludge hammer, winding me.

  Looking over my shoulder, I disagree, “We uprooted our life for Madden. I would say that yes, I can and will make Madden my whole life.” I go back to watching my son play in our backyard. I honestly can’t believe Nate of all people would ever suggest this.

  “What’s one night? You trust me. I will keep him safe.” This is nothing about keeping my son safe for one night. I’m looking at the bigger picture. One mistake could send us on the run forever.

  I turn fully around, crossing my arms. “Are you forgetting it’s a Rhett Steele concert?” I would do anything to go. I could finally make a friend, while possibly catching a glimpse of Brax. But it’s too risky. Nate is the most levelheaded, calculating person I know. Why he would allow such a stupid idea baffles me.

  “Your dad won’t find us. If he does, we will move.” He says it like this is no big deal. His posture is relaxed as he leans onto the island counter in front of me.

  “Maybe, but that’s the thing, Nate. We keep moving. Madden will be entering kindergarten in a year. We can’t keep uprooting his life once he’s in school. I love this town. It’s the perfect location. Close enough you can help me with keeping up to date with Brax, yet far enough away we can live in peace.”

  The mention of Brax causes a pang in my heart. I have never forgotten about him. Each day, I think of what I could have done to allow us to be together.

  “Your father has fully accepted your death. In his eyes, it has only made him stronger.” Nate isn’t trying to be mean; he is simply stating the truth.

  I shouldn’t be hurt that I was easily placed into a coffin by my own parents and that they thrived from my death. But Nate is right—it has made my father stronger. Something I had no idea was possible. Bring up the fact that, if he did find us, there will be no forgiveness. The thought terrifies me. I stare off past Nate into empty space, accepting my new reality.

  “I already promised Madden that he and I would watch TV all night,” he says.

  My eyes dart back to Nate. He fights a grin unsuccessfully while he enjoys teasing me, knowing I have a strict no TV rule.

  “Kidding, but so worth it to see your reaction. Now go upstairs and get ready.” I turn back to the window, biting on my lower lip. Madden does love his uncle Nate. Boy time would be good for them. I know I can be, let’s say, overpowering, in the protective category. I can’t help it; my momma bear claws are always out.

  “Okay, I’ll go,” I reluctantly agree. “But I’ll make sure I stay in the shadows, won’t draw attention to myself—”

  Nate places his hand over my mouth. “Stop. Tonight, your job is to go have fun. Let me be the one to worry. That is why I’m here.”

  I let out a gust of air, hating when he says that. It’s not true.

  “Stop looking at me like that. Now go!” He taps me on the ass as I hurry upstairs to get ready.

  My stomach flutters with excitement at the possibility of having one night to be me. Not Madden’s mother, not the girl who faked her own death, not the panic-stricken woman who is terrified of her family. I get to be me.

  *

  “Do you think Rhett will show up on his tour bus?” my new friend Gloria asks, her hazel eyes searching for anything and everything Rhett Steele. Gloria is short at five foot two, her naturally curly short brown hair bobbing with her body. She dressed the two of us in Rhett Steele fan wear, insisting my nice boutique shirt wouldn’t cut it.

  My fingers run up and down my jeans. It feels like every nerve in my body is firing, not knowing how to contain themselves. I’m excited and petrified that after all this time I may see Brax again. I refused to entertain the idea before, but now that the possibility is right in front of me, it’s all I can think about. Gloria mimics me, except her excitement is to catch a glimpse of Rhett. I feel like we are two teenage girls waiting for our crushes to walk by as we loiter outside the old brick building on this warm evening.

  Gloria has been following Rhett’s career since the day he left Three Rivers. She is what I would call a super fan.

  Turning around, I look at the little hole in the wall bar, not really sure this place has the glitz and glam I’ve seen videos of Rhett playing at. His poster for this impromptu mini-concert looks out of place on the crumbling old brick side. “He must know the owner,” I say out loud, unable to think of any other reason why he could be playing here.

  “That’s where you’re wrong. He played his first concert here back when he was still too young to drink.”

  I quickly glance back at her. She doesn’t even look up at the building while she lays out another fact she has memorized a
bout him.

  My hand goes to touch the poster, comparing each feature of Rhett’s to Brax, while I evaluate how similar they look. Feeling Gloria’s hand squeeze my elbow, the pinch causes me to turn around to see a large F-150 pickup truck roll toward the bar.

  In what seems like slow motion, we watch a large black cowboy hat slowly tilt up, and I know instantly this is Rhett Steele. His resemblance to his brothers Kellen and Brax is uncanny.

  “Holy shit,” Gloria whisper-yells. I can feel her trying to stop from jumping in place. Her grip on me tightens, making little pin-like pricks shoot up my arm. My heart pounds inside me as I search around to see if Brax or his sister Shay are anywhere near. My mind is telling me that I should run inside, hide in the shadows, but I can’t do it. I want to see Brax, and I miss my old college friend Shay. She was my best friend, the only true friend I ever had outside of my parents’ household.

  “Isn’t it rumored he’s been in rehab, and that’s why he stopped performing?” I lean into Gloria while asking, both of us watching each and every move of the man who is jumping out of the pickup truck. What must be a band mate tosses his guitar out with no case, looking unconcerned about its well-being. He looks confident, having the same strut as Brax.

  “There is also a rumor of an elopement too,” she whispers, rooted in place, her grip slipping off my arm. We continue staring out, neither of us able to pull our eyes away.

  “Hello, ladies,” he drawls, looking at the two of us. I’m pretty sure Gloria may faint at his feet. I watch her open her mouth only for nothing to come out. “See you in there.” He gives us a wink, and she melts into the side of me. I scan the area to see no familiar faces. I should be pleased about this, when in fact my heart drops, disappointment needling its way into me.

  “He does nothing for you?” My friend looks at me like I’m a new breed of woman, not understanding my non-reaction.