Forever After a Haunted Fall

Prologue

One year ago…

Bristol

“Go spend the week with Anson at that resort.” Dakota gives me a pointed look as I hand her the little black bag I’ve just filled with her purchases from what we jokingly refer to as Many Moans.

The secret backroom adult toy store I’ve been running out of my much more well-known small-town antique shop, Many Moons.

“That’s what started the fight in the first place.

” I press my lips together and shake my head.

My on-again, off-again boyfriend and I have definitely entered off-again territory.

He went on a guys’ trip with his MC that included a laundry list of debauchery and then lied to me about it.

Because, according to him, nothing happened, and there was nothing to tell.

So I finally agreed to take the trip to the couples-only resort my best friend gifted me.

The only catch is her oldest brother is part of the deal, and my situationship thinks that means I’ll be partaking in my own debaucherous adventures.

Which is patently ridiculous. Anson would never cross that line in a million years.

Especially since Anson’s my brother-in-law.

When my sister died, he was lost, trying to raise their son, Ford, on his own and run his construction company at the same time. Not to mention managing his grief and getting all of Fannie’s affairs in order after the will was read. He was overwhelmed and drowning in responsibilities.

I was still in college and had the time to help him.

The money he gave me from nannying also made sure I could pay the tuition my grants didn’t cover.

And it made sure that ends were met at the home I shared with my mom.

Over time, we grew into a sort of makeshift family unit.

He helped my mom and me out with things around the house and always made sure I could pay the bills.

I made sure Ford had everything he needed and that they both had clean clothes and a hot meal at least once a day.

Somewhere in there, Hazel, one of my best friends and Anson’s sister, became infatuated with the idea of Anson and me ending up together.

A thing she’d know was impossible if she spent five minutes around the two of us on any given night at his house.

He barely speaks to me beyond the necessities of making sure we’re all on the same page when it comes to the schedule.

And I’m not sure Anson dates anyone at all. Ever.

“Yeah. Because he’s nervous you’ll find someone better.

And you should. You deserve better, Bristol.

” Dakota gives me a pointed stare as I try to avoid her gaze.

Chris wasn’t the best guy in the world. I didn’t pretend that he was, but he also wasn’t the worst. I considered him a fixer-upper.

A little work here and there, and I could have him good as new.

“I could have said the same to you and Hazel about your relationships, and look at you now.” They’re both headed down the aisle.

“Chris and Grant are nothing alike. Even in his most infuriating moments, he would never let me wonder about his fidelity. I don’t even have to think about it.” Dakota means well, but the contrast between her current relationship status and mine feels painful.

“And what, now you’re on Hazel’s side about this Anson thing?” The last thing I need is them all conspiring.

“Would it be so bad?”

“Going to paradise for a week with him? No. I’m certain he’ll plop himself down in front of a laptop to work most of the week while I go to the pool and beach alone.

Then he’ll sleep on the couch while he insists I take the bed.

Then we’ll eat dinner together in silence.

Eat, sleep, repeat. It’ll be relaxing, but it won’t be romantic. ”

“You never know.”

“I know. If he had any romantic interest in me whatsoever, I’d know. He’s had dozens—no, hundreds—of times to show it. Not once. Which is fine. Honestly, I don’t think he has a romantic bone in his body. I think he’s a workaholic, and between that and Ford, he’s at full capacity.”

“Do you have any interest in him?”

“He’s just Ford’s dad to me.” I shrug.

Have I thought about Anson? Sure. Once or twice.

He’s good-looking, and by almost anyone’s definition, he’s a catch.

Manages his own company. Owns his own house.

A good reputation in our small town, which you know is hard to come by if you’ve spent any time here at all.

He’s always helping people, and his business regularly donates to charity.

He’s probably the most eligible bachelor in town these days now that all the Stocktons are locked down.

Not to mention, the single-dad thing has half the single moms swooning over him at football practice. He’s perfect on paper.

But we’re so deep into our well-worn rut of raising Ford and getting our family through the day that I see an entirely different side of him. Grumpy. Silent. Stubbornly dedicated to a regimented schedule. Obsessed with work. And occasionally just seemingly irritated by my very existence.

“Well. Chris doesn’t need to know that, and I think he deserves to wonder about what you’re up to while you relax at the beach.”

“It’d be easier if I didn’t have to ask Darby to cover for me with the antique shop. She already does so much. And then I just have to straight-up close this place for the week. That’s a lot of lost revenue.”

I pause to smile and welcome a customer who Darby lets in through the back door, nodding to let me know she knew the password.

She looks overwhelmed the second she steps in and sees corsets and lingerie on one side and adult toys and videos on the other.

I’ll have to wrap this discussion with Dakota up and get back to business.

“Just go. You deserve it. You’re a workaholic too, you know.” Dakota gives me a knowing look before finally ceding ground and heading for the door.

“How dare you!” I call after her, but I’m smiling as I do it. It’s true. I am a workaholic too. Every dime I can squirrel away means a better future than the life I’ve had so far, and I want it desperately enough to work however many hours that requires.

I straighten up a little bit behind the counter, making sure the travel-size lubes are lined up in neat rows in their box, and the price tag for the sexy dice is propped up carefully above them on the other side.

I want to give the new customer a chance to look around without feeling rushed before I ask how I can help.

But it turns out I don’t have to because when I look up, she’s on the other side of the counter.

“Hi! I could use your help.”

“Of course! What can I do for you?”

“My friend told me about this place. All good things. And I’m just trying to find… Well, I don’t know exactly. Some lingerie? A corset or a costume, maybe?”

“We have all of that. Did you have an occasion in mind? I might be able to give some suggestions if you can tell me more. Only as much as you want to share though.” I pride myself on keeping my customers’ confidentiality and their secrets.

Especially since I’m asking them to keep this whole place a secret.

“Well. Um. How do I put this…” Her hands are folded, and she wrings them as she glances down at the floor.

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to,” I remind her.

“No, I need to. I’m sure you’ll have ideas I can’t even fathom.

It’s just that I’m having to hype myself up for this whole experience.

” She takes a breath and then launches into her explanation.

“I’m a widow. It’s been almost two years.

And… um, I haven’t been able to go on a date.

I didn’t see anyone besides my husband, and I’m so intimidated by the idea of someone else. ”

“I can understand that. You have to decide when you’re ready.”

“Right. Well, I was worried I never would be. And then, my friend, she suggested this guy she knows. He helped her with that sort of thing. Talking her through it and making sure it was on her terms.”

“He sounds amazing. Does he have a brother?” I grin as I see her eyes light at the prospect of taking her friend’s advice.

“I’m not sure. Maybe? I don’t know a lot about his personal life.

Just that he’s a single dad and a widower himself.

My friend, she actually suggested him for me.

” She glances up at me, and even though I think I’m doing my best to keep my face neutral, she must still be worried about potential judgment.

“It’s not like that. Between them, I mean.

It was just casual. Just sex. She’s not the only one he’s had this kind of arrangement with.

” She laughs nervously, and I join her. I’m hoping to make her feel comfortable.

There’s no judgment here at all, but I’ve definitely never heard of that kind of arrangement. It makes sense to me though. There’s someone and something for everyone.

“Well, he sounds like a dream if he lives up to all those promises. We could all use a little help sometimes, right?”

She nods, and I lead her over to the lingerie.

“So you just want something that makes you feel confident for that first time?”

“Yes, but I have no idea what to pick. I know he likes the color blue.”

“All right. We can work with that. If you tell me a little bit more about what you like in your current lingerie, we can narrow it down to something that will feel like a little confidence boost while still being comfortable.”

I walk her through all the lingerie options and several of the toy and lube options before we finally wrap up and head for the register.

She picked out some matching sets of panties and bras, one in a pale purple and another in a soft blue.

Her nerves are finally fading as we talk about her plans for the night.

“So is the big night this week?” I ask as I fold the lingerie up in the delicate custom tissue paper I ordered on an indulgent whim. I want everything about this place to feel custom and intentional. I want women to feel like they’ve been pampered and to go home more confident than ever.

“No, I have too many extra shifts this week, and I’ve already maxed out the babysitter’s availability. I’m hoping next week, but he said he may be out of town. But the week after next for sure, if not.” She beams at the idea, and her smile is infectious.

“Well, if it goes well and you want to try the corset for the next time, you just come back and see me.” I hold out her small black bag, and she nods.

“I will do that for sure. Thank you so much for everything!”

I grin to myself as I finish putting all the pieces back that I pulled for her to look over, grateful that I was able to help her in some small way on her road to confidence.

My mind wanders to her future companion. Mr. Helpful. What kind of guy is willing to do that? I can only imagine it’s difficult for everyone involved.

I wonder if there’s something similar for men. Anson might benefit from a woman who could hold his hand through the ordeal of dating again without the pressure. Maybe it’s why he’s held back so long.

I might be able to find out some information on how to help him if she comes back. But before I can linger on the idea too long, another customer comes in, and I’ve lost the thread.

That night at dinner, Anson puts down his fork from the casserole I made for him and Ford to look at his phone as it pings. He glances up at me in the kitchen as I load the dishes into the dishwasher.

“Did you still want to cancel next week?”

“What’s next week?” Ford pipes up.

“Your dad and I were supposed to go on that trip Aunt Hazel had planned for the beach.”

“I want to go to the beach.”

“You’ve got school.” Anson reminds him of the obvious.

“How am I gonna get to school if you’re at the beach?”

“Staying with your Uncle Bo.” Anson’s answers are always perfunctory.

“Um, it’s up to you. If you’re busy or something’s come up, I don’t need to go. I’ve got a lot going on anyway. Chris wanted to do something.”

“I thought Chris was on vacation.” It’s Anson’s way of talking around the status of our relationship.

He doesn’t like Ford knowing how rocky things are between us.

Said he doesn’t want him getting the impression that it’s a good way to treat a woman.

Which I found equal parts patronizing and charming.

A narrow line that Anson always seems to walk.

“His vacation was based on our vacation.”

“I see.” Anson’s eyes flick down to his phone and then back up to me. “So no beach then?”

“I better not.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just gives a quick nod of his head in understanding before he starts to type. His fingers fly over the keys as messages ping back and forth.

“Could you get Ford on Wednesday from practice?” he asks. “It sounds like I’ll have to be out late that night.”

“Sure.” I nod. I occasionally stay late at their house when Anson has a lot of work on his plate and needs more time in the office.

Ford is old enough to stay home alone, but he’s just rowdy enough that Anson worries a party will erupt as soon as Ford realizes the power of not having parents around twenty-four seven.

The rest of our family dinner is routine.

I finish the dishes. Ford goes to his room to finish homework.

Anson passes out on the couch, his phone half dangling from his hand.

I go to take it to keep it from falling on the floor, and that’s when I realize how many clues I missed today.

Ones that are glaringly obvious when his thumb accidentally swipes the screen as he turns over in his sleep, revealing the open message.

There’s a photo that’s just been sent. She’s wearing a very familiar purple balconette bra. My stomach lurches upward as my interest piques. I scan up to the message above. I shouldn’t. I really shouldn’t. But curiosity killed the cat.

Chloe:

I have another one in blue if you’d prefer

Whichever one you wear you’ll look beautiful sweetheart.

A widower. A single dad. Patience of a saint. Always helping people. Never dating. All the clues were there.

I look down to see him stir in his sleep on the couch, shifting position, his eyes pinching together and then softening again like he’s having a dream.

I lock his phone, feeling guilty for the breach of trust, and set it on the coffee table.

I grab the throw that’s on the corner of the couch and pull it over him.

He spends way too many nights on the couch instead of in his bed, but then he’s not home often enough to justify making it most of the time. I’m starting to see why.

Anson Briggs has a whole secret second life, and I can’t tell a soul, least of all him, that I know about it.