Your husband,
~Brett
After that, Liz had snuck back in, carefully put the letter back, and, muffling the uncontrollable sobbing that had started the moment she began reading, made her way to Jake’s room, slid into a T-shirt that smelled like him, and folded into his bed. She needed him; she needed to have someone hold her, touch her, tell her it would be okay. Brett had loved her mother, and all this time, her mother hadn’t known.
She was angry with Brett for never telling her. She was angry with him for being a coward, a self-serving selfish prick and not facing them all with the secrets he so obviously regretted keeping.If he’d told them about his cancer, her mother could have said goodbye.
It hurt her heart to know that her mother could have felt with Brett what she was feeling for Jake, but it was denied to her. So she had let the tears out, and when Jake had finally come to bed, her need was so strong she’d just reached out to him. And he gave her what she needed.
Her mother deserved a love like that.
Jake stirred, and she turned as he rolled over, a sleepy smile on his face as he reached out and ran his hand up her arm.
“Mornin’,” he said, gravel in his voice. “You need to get moving?”
She looked over at the dresser, where a small clock sat ticking away. It was almost five thirty. Soon. Horses waited for no man, nor drama.
“Not yet. Just—”
“You want to talk about it?”
She nodded and laid herself down, her head resting on his stomach as his hand went to her hair, combing it back. She closed her eyes, the comfort in that gesture swelling her heart, threatening tears. Would she ever get used to how good it would feel, these touches?
“You read your letter?” he asked quietly. “That good, huh?”
“I read Mom’s too,” she admitted. His hand stopped, and she opened her eyes. His eyebrows were raised, a quirked smile of amusement appearing as she did.
“She know that yet?”
He shifted and sat up against the headboard, so she did as well, and they looked at one another on the bed. He sighed and reached for her.
“You can’t help yourself, can you? You have to know what’s happening, know what to do.” He chuckled, and kissed her forehead. “I get it. I would love to know what he wrote to Tanner and Brady. But, jeez, Liz, you couldn’t have just waited and asked?”
She rested against him, and they folded in together, comfortable and easy. It was too much, and her eyes were wet with tears. She was in love, and it was overwhelmingly emotional, especially added to everything else that had happened.
“He said he loved her and—”
“Don’t. That’s for your mom, not me,” he said. “Listen, this has been gut-wrenching for all of us, and now, with it all out in the open, we can move on. Your mom can heal, my brothers can do what they are meant to do, and I can—”
“Can what?” she asked, a nervous ping flitting through her stomach. If he went back on what he’d said last night, she was going to murder him and then fall apart.
“I can figure out where I fit in all of this,” he finished.
“Right here.” Liz sniffled and looked him square in the eye, deciding defiant was how she would defend any argument he came up with, damn it. “With me. With us. Here.”
He was studying her again, his face serious, unreadable, that wrinkle in his forehead a copy of his brother when he was about to say something profound, or close down the conversation. She waited, anticipating some sort of noncommittal answer. Even now that they had pledged themselves to one another, she was expecting the disappointment.
“I meant what I said, Liz. I love you. There’s no going back. This is it.”
“It is,” she echoed back, relief washing over her like a heavy stone had been lifted off her back. She barked out a laugh and rubbed at her face. “I have had enough crying for a lifetime. Shit, I’m a mess.”
He laughed at that and got out of bed, stretching. When he turned to her, smiling, his hair rumpled and stubble over his jaw, she wondered how she’d gotten so damned lucky. He was hers, and he was beautiful.
“I’m hungry. Let’s go make breakfast for everybody. The heavenly aroma of bacon should get ’em up, you think?” he said, and turned to head to the bathroom. Liz flopped back onto the bed, smiles replacing the tears, the worry gone.
Was this what true happiness felt like? It must be, because she couldn’t describe it any other way.
Chapter Thirty-eight
