30
A little hollow
Christmas was wrapped in all the right things — good food, crackling fires, laughter echoing off the walls — but for Rafferty, it was still laced with something he couldn’t shake.
His siblings were settled and smiling in that easy, effortless way he envied.
Jo glowed when she announced her pregnancy, eyes shining as the room erupted in congratulations.
Essie had been nervous about bonding with her baby stepdaughter, afraid the connection wouldn’t come naturally.
But you wouldn’t know it now — she was settling into married life with Max with surprising ease, chatting about hospital shifts and babysitting schedules like she’d been doing it all her life.
Aidan, true to form, still glowered from across the room. When little Jamie tripped and burst into tears, Rafferty reached him first — only to have Aidan swoop in like a hawk, scooping the toddler out of his arms, and offering Raff nothing but a cold nod.
Even Sully joined, his royal duties keeping him away in person but not in spirit — his face bright on the screen, his voice warm and teasing. He chatted about his wedding, the date confirmed for the last week in May.
His mother beamed through it all, her happiness worn proudly like a holiday brooch. And Rafferty smiled, clapped people on the back, lifted glasses, and laughed when expected.
But it all rang a little hollow.
Eventually, he slipped out the back, trading the noise and warmth for the bite of night air and silence.
He found himself on Brandy-Lyn’s dark veranda that night, the chill settling into his bones.
The house was empty — quiet in a way that mirrored his mood.
He stood there a long time, hands buried in his pockets, staring into the dark.
She was away, sunning herself in the Caribbean.
And he hoped she was having a good time.
God knew, she deserved a time of fun and play.
But fuck, he missed her.
To add to his misery, his mother had taken up matchmaking like it was a full-time job. Subtlety had never been her strong suit, and it annoyed him to no end, because his heart, whether she liked it or not, already belonged to a russet-haired woman.
The new accountant — quiet, competent, and clearly uncomfortable — had been persuaded to stay for dinner twice under the pretense of “not eating alone.” Then Aunt Marlene and Uncle Fred showed up with their niece in tow, a perky divorcée freshly returned to help run the diner, her eyes bright with interest and zero understanding of the brick wall she was about to hit.
And of course, there were the not-so-subtle mentions of Maggie, Siobhan’s hairdresser friend, a single mom in her early thirties who “just needed a good man and a fresh start.” He endured it all with gritted teeth and tight smiles, counting the minutes until he could excuse himself.
Because none of them were her.
*
The sun was warm on her skin. Not too hot to burn — just enough to ease the tension from her muscles and lull her into a state of relaxed surrender.
And loosen her tongue. Of course, the mojito helped.
Brandy-Lyn turned her head to look at her friend stretched out on the next lounger. “Tell me I’m crazy.”
The lazy ocean breeze stirred a few stray tendrils across her cheek, catching on the slick of lip balm. She lifted her hand to brush them away.
“You’re crazy, love,” Jackie replied dutifully, not even opening her eyes.
Brandy sighed. “Thank you.”
She brought the cocktail to her lips, the glass damp with condensation, and took a slow sip.
The lime and mint cooled her throat, and the rum gave a little kick.
And she closed her eyes. Since pushing her away just before Thanksgiving, Rafferty had been avoiding her.
Like crossing to the other side of the road to avoid bumping into her.
No kidding. It happened just last week in town.
She’d been on her way to Decadence to celebrate picking up her new Yukon — miracle of miracles, the insurance had finally settled her claim — when she caught sight of his bike, parked just a few spots down …
Her pulse jumped, recognizing the Ducati. She slowed, scanning the sidewalk like a woman looking for something she’d lost — a slow three-sixty, heart hammering, hope clawing its way up her throat.
Then he stepped out of the bakery.
A paper bag in one hand, he was dressed in black with a beanie pulled low over his forehead. He looked good — too good.
And for a breathless second, their eyes locked.
And then, just as quickly, he turned.
Not toward her. Not even toward the damn motorbike.
He spun on his heel and walked away. Deliberate, like he had somewhere else to be.
Anywhere else.
Brandy stood frozen on the sidewalk, her face burning like he’d slapped her.
He left his bike behind.
Left her behind.
And yeah, that hurt like hell.
She told herself that kind of avoidance had to mean something. Because if she didn’t matter, he wouldn’t be going out of his way to not interact with her.
Brandy opened her eyes to find Jackie swinging her legs to the sand, elbows on knees as she peered at her over the top of her sunglasses.
“Why exactly am I calling you crazy?”
She gave her friend the stink-eye.
Jackie raised an unimpressed brow. “Because in my humble opinion, it could be one of two reasons. One, you’re on a tropical island mooning over a man who basically told you to fuck off.
Or two, you turned down the chance to dance with that absolute Adonis of a man last night.
You know, the one with the abs and the accent? ”
Brandy groaned and sat up. “The first. Definitely the first.” She had no desire to dance with some random man. She wanted to dance with Rafferty freaking Lawson.
Gripping the edge of her lounge chair like it might ground her, she burst out, “What is it about Rafferty Lawson that makes me go against every ounce of logic and self-preservation? He has the power to destroy me, Jackie. He’s a dark, broken man.
More, he’s an addict. And I know what it’s like living with an addict.
It’s soul-destroying. It's … it's always waiting for the other shoe to drop.”
Jackie stayed quiet, letting her talk.
Brandy’s voice dropped, raw and low. “But when I’m with him …
when I see the work he’s doing to heal …
Lord, I ache for him. I want to hold him and never let go.
I want his love. I want to grow old with him.
I want Sunday mornings and road trips and arguing over what to name the dog.
” Her voice cracked. “But what if he never gets there? What if the damage is too deep and I waste all this time waiting for someone who can never fully come back?”
She swiped the tears from her cheeks, angry with herself. “Goddammit, Jackie. I am a fucking wreck.”
Jackie, sunglasses off now, eyes soft with understanding, placed her hands on Brandy’s knees.
“You’re not a wreck,” she said gently. “You’re a woman in love.
The kind of love that terrifies you because it asks everything of you.
But you’re not crazy for wanting more than pain and silence and waiting.
You just have to figure out if he’s worth it. Is he?”
Brandy stared past her friend’s head, out at the horizon, where the turquoise sea met the sky in a blur of heat and salt and endless possibility. She didn’t answer right away.
“I don’t know,” she said finally, her voice hoarse. “Some days, yes. Lord, yes. I see the man he’s trying to become. I see the fight in him, the guilt, the effort. And I think — how could I walk away from that? How could I turn my back on someone who’s trying that hard to crawl out of the dark?”
She took a shaky breath. “But other days … I’m terrified that I’m just a chapter in his recovery.
A stop along the way. That once he’s whole, he won’t need me anymore.
Or worse, he’ll still be broken, and I’ll be the one bleeding from trying to hold him together.
” Her eyes flicked to Jackie’s, pleading and raw.
“I want to believe in him. In us. But I’ve got my kids to think about.
My heart. My life. I can’t gamble everything on a man who won’t even look me in the eye when we cross paths. ”
Jackie gave her hand a squeeze, then let out a quiet sigh.
“Then maybe this is your sign to let go. Just for a little while we’re here,” Jackie said softly.
“You’ve carried so much, love. You’ve dealt with a cheating spouse, worried about your kids, started a new business, kept yourself upright when most people would’ve crumbled.
You’ve earned these few days of downtime. ”
Brandy looked at her through a haze of tears. “You’re right.”
“Love, I am always right.” Jackie smiled and stood.
“Come on,” she urged, tugging on Brandy’s hand.
“Let’s take a swim, then find some ridiculously overpriced seafood.
Tonight, we dance. No expectations, no guilt, no overthinking.
Just the warm night air and the fact that we’re not responsible for anyone but ourselves for once. ”
Brandy hesitated, then nodded, standing too. “Okay. Just for tonight, I won’t be the woman waiting for a man who’s not ready.”
Jackie looped an arm around her shoulder. “Damn right you won’t. You’ll be the woman sipping rum under palm trees, being adored by her best friend, and maybe, just maybe , letting herself have some fun.”
Brandy glanced back at the water one more time, then smiled. “Fun sounds good.”