I’m in love with my Blue.
I love Brady Pruitt.
And here I am, blowing up and acting bonkers because I love him so truly and deeply and he’ll never know.
I’ve lost my shit—and the plot—because I’m terrified Harry Jay will exploit the past to run him off like he did to my mom.
I don’t answer, but I don’t need to.
A knowing smile hangs on Elle’s face as she gets up to call into the cabin, telling the captain we’re ready to start making our way home.
We stare at the pretty scenery a little while longer while rocks bang around my head and Elle tells me about their home away from home.
Woe is me.
The kind of misery that no number of tall trees and scenic rocks and a glimpse of a black bear can fix.
The bear’s pretty cool, though, no lie.
And I feel a little lighter as the boat slides back into its dock and my phonefinallypings.
But it’s not Brady.
It’s Dr. Ezzie, and her text is just a link to a news story.
A Seattle news story.
An exclusive about big-time developer Harry Jay and some insanely dirty business dealings.
Every drop of blood drains from my body as I read.
The article discusses the myriad ways Harry manipulated property owners to accept his offers: strong-arm sales involving code violations, county fines, sudden liens out of nowhere.
The same familiar shit show he’s made us live.
“Oh my God,” I manage, taking a seat on a bench by her docks. “Holy shit.”
“Holy what?” Elle yanks the phone from my hand and starts scrolling, her eyes flicking with excitement. “Lena ... this is brilliant!”
“It’s something,” I grunt. I feel like I need to be coached to remember how to breathe. “It’s—”
A disaster.
A death wish.
Nowayin hell will Harry ever let this go.
Everything I thought I was protecting Brady from just sealed his fate. And just like Elle’s blue cardinal, I’m scared he’s picked a fight he can’t win.
But Elle doesn’t see it that way, of course, not when her glass is always half full.
“Now you’ve got him. This is huge!” she whoops.
“This wasn’t me. I didn’t do anything.”
“No, but between you and Brady, you’ve got that jerkwad’s balls in the vice.” She leans over the dock and spits like the delicate lady she is.
“Heisa jerkwad,” I agree.
