44
Never letting go
As her Yukon closed the distance to Nebraska, Brandy-Lyn’s resolve wavered. What had seemed like a good decision in Texas now weighed heavily on her mind and her thoughts drifted over the last twenty-four hours …
Since the moment she had taken Rafferty’s call, heard the desperation in his, “ Help me? Please? ” plea, her life had turned upside down.
Her gut instinct had been, “Hell, no.”
But she had wavered, soft-hearted fool that she was, because … Rafferty.
The man deserved, needed a break.
Not even a half hour after capitulating to his crazy scheme, Branna and Jonathan had paid her a visit.
With eyes gleaming from excitement (or was it triumph?) Rafferty’s matchmaking mama had gushed, “Thank you, Brandy,” and pulled her into a hug.
Drawing back from Branna’s clutches, Brandy had placed her hands on the woman’s shoulders and earnestly peered at her.
“You do understand this is a fake engagement?”
Branna’s airy “Of course, dear,” had sounded as fake as the ridiculous game Rafferty had drawn her into.
From there on it had been a spiral into what only could be termed as surreal chaos. Over dinner, she had explained Rafferty’s predicament to her kids and asked if they were good with her going along with his plan.
“Wow, Mom. That’s a … lot,” Amelia had murmured.
“Poor Connor and Nadie. They must be so sad. And feel so scared,” Olivia had said.
“I think it’s awesome what Raff’s doing,” Preston had stated.
“Raff’s an awesome person,” Amelia had added.
“We’ll be like Connor and Nadie’s honorary siblings,” Olivia had gushed.
Brandy had sighed and rubbed her forehead, the dull throb of a headache already taking root. “None of this tells me if you’re actually okay with me saying yes to Rafferty’s insane request.”
“Yes!”
“Totally!”
“For sure.”
And then Maebh had visited and handed Brandy a tiny black box …
“An engagement, even a pretend one, needs an authentic prop,” the woman said.
To Brandy’s chagrin, her fingers shook as she opened the box. And she couldn’t prevent a gasp. “It’s beautiful.” The gleaming emerald surrounded by a halo of diamonds winked back at her. “But I … I can’t wear this, Meabh,” she protested, shoving the box back toward the old woman.
Instead of taking the ring back, Maebh clasped Brandy’s hand in both of hers. “You can and you will, mo stóirín .”
“But—”
“No buts, Brandy-Lyn. It was just lying in my cupboard, serving no purpose. Something so beautiful needs to be flaunted, admired. Gushed over,” the wily old woman added, the glint in her eyes matching Branna’s from earlier.
Against her better judgment, Brandy lifted the ring from its nest and held it up between her thumb and forefinger. It truly was a masterpiece crafted with glossy gold and sparkling green and white stones.
And it looked new, despite the classic style.
And by new she meant brand new.
“This is new,” she exclaimed, waving the ring about. The octogenarian’s penchant for having a hand in her grandchildren’s engagement rings was well known.
Maebh merely shrugged. “While you’re his fiancée, fake or otherwise, it’s perfect.”
Fake or otherwise.
Her heart rate sped up, and her blood thrummed though her veins. And just for a moment, she wished with everything in her for the otherwise.
Tsk-tsk -ing, Maebh took the ring and held out her other hand, flicking her fingers in a “gimme” gesture.
“Maebh …” Brandy protested.
The woman merely raised a single eyebrow, her vivid gaze daring her.
Brandy gave a rueful sigh, realizing the futility of arguing with the strong-willed woman, and placed her left hand in Maebh’s. But the surge of disappointment that it wasn’t Rafferty pushing the ring over her knuckle and to the base of her finger unsettled her tremendously.
“Ah. A perfect fit,” Maebh said.
She viewed her hand.
Dammit.
The ring looked like it was made for her.
Like it belonged.
A solid and warm weight.
But then her heart spasmed, the sharp pang jerking her back to reality.
It was fake.
Fake, fake. Fake.
The word echoed in her mind, mocking her.
“ Mo stóirin, ” Maebh murmured and moved closer, placing her hand on Brandy’s chest. It was as if the old woman’s eyes — so like her grandson’s — could see right into her soul and discern her deepest secret.
“Be strong and let your heart fill with courage. And hope.” A grin tugged at Maebh’s lips. “Never lose hope.”
And even now, a day later, heat spread across Brandy-Lyn’s chest and flooded her face.
She had never been the focus of Maebh’s preternatural ability.
And it annoyed her that someone had discerned her closely held secret.
She viewed her ringless finger, determined not to wear the ring unless necessary.
It made her hope.
She shifted in her seat, trying to alleviate the stiffness of her back. She’d only stopped to gas up and use the bathroom, and her stomach protested the lack of food. Maybe, deep down, she knew if she spent time dawdling over a meal, she would give in to her doubts and turn back to Texas.
A green road sign drew her eye. Bold arrows pointing east and west.
Brandy slowed and pulled off the road, her heart thumping.
This was it.
Her symbolic line — the border between Kansas and Nebraska.
Tapping her fingers on the steering wheel, she peered through the windshield.
Continue, you’re committing.
She let out a half-manic laugh. “Committing to what, exactly, Brandy?”
A chance to draw closer to the man you love. The man determined to not let you in, yet when he needed help, you were the one he turned to.
Or do a U-turn, drive back to Texas, and continue life as is. Forever wondering what if?
“You’re foolish for dropping everything and haring off to Nebraska,” she muttered, slammed the truck into drive, and pulled off with a spray of gravel.
Eighty odd miles to go. Just over an hour.
Turn back. Turn back.
Brandy tightened her grip on the steering wheel and swore a blue streak.
“You’ve come this far. Keep going.” She kept up that mantra, but by the time she passed the “Clearbrook, 10 miles” sign, she was a sweaty and crampy mess and couldn’t wait to get out the truck and shake loose her stiff muscles.
“In three hundred meters, at the roundabout, take the first exit,” the GPS voice intoned.
Brandy sucked in a fortifying breath and followed the instructions to the address she had received from Stas. Turning into the street lined with older, ranch-styled homes, she slowed, scanning the house numbers. There .
The U-Haul and sedan in the driveway confirmed what Stas had told her — Rafferty was still packing up. She parked in front of the small house and slipped from the SUV, taking a few moments to stretch out her sore muscles. And calm her nerves.
Or at least, try and calm her nerves.
With a wave to Stas and Ruby parked across the road, she walked up the pathway.
What if he didn’t want her here?
Worse, turned her away?
The front door opened, and a figure emerged, upper body concealed behind a packing box.
She cleared her throat and opened her mouth to call out.
The box thudded to the ground and a weapon emerged in its place. Once again, Brandy stared into the business end of Rafferty’s firearm.
“Surprise?” she croaked, her lips pulling up in a wry smile as she lifted her arms in surrender. “I come in peace.”
Motionless, he stared at her, his mouth agape.
Not the welcome she had expected. “Maybe you can lower the gun?”
Rafferty blinked. “Fuck,” he muttered, holstering his weapon.
She lowered her arms. “Guess I should’ve called ahead?” she remarked, rolling her stiff shoulders.
He strode across the small porch and down the stairs, stopping right before her, the tips of his boots touching hers. “Red.”
The way he growled her name set loose a thousand butterflies in her belly. “Rafferty.”
He stroked the back of his fingers over her jaw, her cheek, and tucked a wayward lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re really here,” he whispered, dropping his forehead to hers. “I wanted this. You. Here. So badly,” he said, his voice gruff. “But I didn’t realize how much. Until … now.”
Those butterflies spread throughout her body, followed by a wave of indescribable warmth.
And a deep knowing that she had made the right decision to come.
“Then I’m glad I’m here.” She pulled him close, wrapping her arms around him in a quiet promise — he wasn’t alone.
Not anymore.
And if it were up to her, she’d never, ever let go.