Chapter 7
Beckham
Roughbark bites into my skin while I position the cedar post—part of the railing for the back patio I am building. Also, one of the last bits of construction on my new house. I should probably be wearing gloves. But I press on and hold the wood steady, bare-handed. Those pinpricks of pain are a welcome distraction while I slot the last rails into place on either side.
While I work, my mind wanders back to the first time I found out about this plot of land. John and Sara added me to their will as soon as they officially became my foster parents, unbeknownst to their children and me.
I was shocked as hell.
Unable to process when I heard the lawyer read the words out loud, I took the news in stride, and then just… left it alone. I had no use for the land while I was in the military.
But when I moved back for good, ready to put down some roots, Simon was right there, deed in hand.
We were having drinks on Simon’s front porch, talking about a lot of nothing like we used to do as kids. It was peaceful. I didn’t realize how much I missed the quiet of the countryside while I was off traveling the world. But, I did.
I was ready to settle down. This place had been home all my life, and I wanted to find my place in it.
When I said as much to Simon, he reached over to grab something. Turning back toward me, I noticed a large manila envelope in his hands. I gave him a questioning look as I took the packet from him, opened the flap, and pulled out an official-looking set of documents.
“What is this?” I asked, even as my eyes scanned the first page.
“Now that you’re back in Sweetbriar, you’re planning to stick around, right?”
I nodded.
Satisfied, Simon leaned back in his chair and took a swig of beer. “Then it”s time for you to take what Mom and Dad gave you.”
“You mean the plot from the will?” That’s when I realized the document in my hands was the deed. “Simon, I… I don’t know what to say.”
“Don’t have to say anything. That land is a gift. No strings attached.”
I stared down at the papers clenched in my shaky hands. Words started to blur on the page. It took me a minute to compose myself before I let my gaze return to Simon.
He pointed his beer at the deed. “Mom and Dad wanted you to have a place here. They wanted you to know that you always have a home with us. No matter what happened.” His words faltered. Clearing his throat, he added, “I wouldn’t have it any other way, brother.”
Simon’s voice was gruff with emotion.
Mine, too, when I replied, “Thank you.”
Home. That small plot of land, roughly two acres in size, sits half a mile down the road from Simon’s house, near the edge of the Briar Patch property line. A place for me to finally put down roots.
Another hard-won piece of the life I struggled to build.
But build it I did, and that life is turning out to be a good one. I have friends. A community. My construction business. In the time since I’ve been back, I have made a name here. One that does not have the same stigma as my father’s.
Building something with my own two hands fills me with pride—something I had precious little of growing up. Things like this house. I enjoy getting my hands dirty and crave the sense of purpose and drive that comes with hard work.
Work requires focus.
Focus keeps my thoughts from wandering.
Focus keeps me from fantasies about a certain curvy little redhead that I have no right to be having.
Hell. Seeing Ellery after all these years threw me completely off-kilter. The last time I laid eyes on her was at her high school graduation. Before then, things were much easier. She was firmly in the category of Simon’s baby sister. At the very least, a family friend. At most, my foster sister…until the day she appeared in her graduation cap and gown and my entire world imploded.
Her face was lit up with so much happiness, like seeing me there was the highlight of her entire day. At that moment, she was a dream come to life. Then she made a beeline in my direction and launched herself at me.
Suddenly, having her in my arms felt right. Too right.
Ellery was eighteen, for fuck’s sake. I was twenty-four. She was too young. Too impressionable. Too innocent. Too everything. And I didn’t trust myself not to ruin the family I fought tooth and nail to make for myself. Nothing and no one is worth that risk.
So, I did what I thought was right. I took myself out of the equation. Ran like a coward. Disappeared into my life as a soldier, using the military as an excuse to distance myself from her.
Losing her felt like losing a limb, but it was necessary.
Six years later, things are no longer so simple. Ellery Brooks is all woman now—and not afraid to show it. Each encounter with her in the past several days has been a lesson in self-control. Every time I see her, all dimpled smiles and laughter and sunlight, I have to fight the desire to break my own rules, to make her mine.
Don’t. Go. There.
She is still one hundred percent off-limits. No matter how grown up she looks, or the way her body has filled out in all the right places. No matter the gold sparkle in her hazel eyes when she laughs, or her silky soft skin, or the sweet scent of her that lingers after she leaves a room…
Fuck.
At this rate, I’m getting nothing else accomplished today.
Frustrated, I gather up my tools and then head toward my mount, Dragon. Driving here would have probably made more sense, but today I needed to be on a horse. Needed the rush and the sense of freedom.
When I reach the dappled gray draft horse, he lifts his large head from lazily munching on grass. I pat his neck. He takes that as an invitation to nuzzle at my back pocket. There are always a few carrots there, but he ate his last one a while ago.
With a laugh, I dodge his massive teeth. “No more, you heifer.”
He huffs in annoyance. Ignoring him, I mount the saddle and grab the reins. Then I lead the obstinate horse toward the forest path behind my house.
The Briar Patch is about six hundred and forty acres in its entirety (or one square mile), and my house lies near the southeastern edge of the property. Nearby, a large wooded grove hides a small body of water. Lily Pond—more of a lake than a pond—has long served as a Brooks family refuge.
Ellery was convinced as a child that it was a magical place. Somewhere mermaids lived and pixies frolicked, where every frog was a cursed prince.
Even then, I was inclined to believe her.
Lily Pond is full of magic. Not the type found in fairy tales, maybe, but magic all the same. To provide refuge. To heal hurts. Magic I escaped to whenever life got too difficult.
It was a place where I didn’t have to pretend. Didn’t have to act like everything was okay. The place where John and Simon taught me to fish. The place where I learned that my father was in jail and that he couldn’t hurt me anymore. The place where John and Sara shared the news that they would be fostering me.
It was where the family of my heart became my family in the eyes of the law.
John and Sara knew how special this place was to me. The plot of land they chose for me proves how much they cared because my new home is just a few minutes away on foot from Lily Pond. The lake empties into an actual pond on the edge of my property.
This area is mine. My safety net. My sanctuary.
And when I finally reach the entrance to the pond, I am ready for the peace and solitude it brings.
If only someone hadn’t already taken up residence.