“You can’t be here. How did you get this address?” Raised male voices cut through the lethargic haze of Bree’s mind. She sat up and looked around at the darkened interior of the truck, moonlight spilling across the dashboard. Eleven-thirty said the clock. No wonder she was exhausted. After two restless nights, the foal’s birth, and Kyler taking her in the barn, fatigue had hit her like a two-by-four. The last thing she remembered was Kyler snagging the keys and telling her to catch some z’s. “This is my girlfriend’s house. She—you need to leave. Now, please.”
Bree forced her heavy eyelids to widen and found Kyler outside the truck. He continued to shift left and right, blocking her view of the man he argued with. Argued with…in her driveway?
Her fingers went to the door handle, curling around it, but she recoiled when a bright light cut through the night and blinded her. The man held a camera.
“Training camp starts next week and the Rage has been chosen for a documentary. This is just preliminary stuff,” said the stranger. “Couldn’t hunt you down at your parents’ house and someone in town was kind enough to direct me here. Your girlfriend, you say?”
Again, the light crept over Kyler’s shoulder, so intrusive and stark. Bree covered her face and scooted toward the driver’s side, climbing out, but remaining hidden behind the truck. “Ky?”
“Bree, go on inside. It’s going to be all right.” Kyler spoke without turning to look at her. His back and shoulder muscles strained beneath his white T-shirt, hands balled in fists, his posture daring the man to raise his camera one more time. Her suspicion was confirmed a moment later when he gritted out, “Lift that camera and you’ll never find all the pieces.”
A low whistle came from the stranger. “I get it, man. You’re protective. Must be serious, then. How long have you been dating? How do you think she’ll manage while you’re on the road? Any plans for a family?”
“Bree.”
Surprisingly, her instinct wasn’t to run. The spotlight usually sent her tearing off to the closest parking lot. But fleeing didn’t even occur to her in that moment. No, leaving Kyler to handle the situation alone felt wrong. Her instinct demanded she go to him, pull him inside. Let the jerk cameraman take whatever pictures he wanted. They weren’t doing anything wrong. They were two people who loved one another. Why should they hide themselves away?
How would she handle Kyler going on the road? They’d survived four years. Mere days would be child’s play. She almost had the urge to laugh.
There was nothing funny about Kyler’s demeanor, though. And she was far too fatigued to fight this battle tonight. They didn’t need to fight any battle but their own, and tomorrow would be soon enough. Los Angeles was light years away and she still needed to examine the move from every angle. Kyler would understand. He would be patient, as always. They would figure out what came next in their life together when she could keep her eyes open.
“Come inside,” she called. “Come with me.”
Finally he turned, a wealth of turbulence in his eyes. So much undisguised emotion, her stomach began to churn. “I’ll handle this. You go in.”
She shook her head. “No.”
“Please, Bree. This is your home.” Then quieter, “I did this.”
“If you’re not gone in thirty seconds, I’m calling the police.” Bree lifted her chin and made a little shooing motion toward the cameraman. “I’m counting.”
Kyler stood there with his back turned to her long after the red sedan disappeared down the driveway. With exhaustion weighing heavy on her shoulders, both of them locked inside the darkness, she felt as if she were in a dream. Nothing seemed real. Not the cameraman, not the new, shimmering image in her mind of a home on the beach, a floppy dog on the bed. Definitely not the new confidence and strength in her bones, possibly ready to embrace change. None of it.
“Kyler,” she whispered, going up behind him, laying kisses along the breadth of his shoulders. “Tuck me in?”
Turning, he made a gruff noise and led her inside by the hand. Her father had left the front door unlocked, but after what happened, she reasoned they should be cautious. Kyler watched as she turned the bolt with a pained expression, obviously still upset over the scene in the driveway. “Hey, I don’t think he’ll be back.” She tugged him down the hallway toward her bedroom, keeping her voice to a whisper. “Once he discovers the cast of characters in Bloomfield, he won’t need a sound bite from me. They’ll keep him entertained.”
Bree didn’t bother turning on the light in her bedroom. She simply kicked off her shoes, dropped her jean shorts, and curled into a fetal position on the bed. It wasn’t until sleep started to descend like a heavy metal curtain did she realize Kyler still stood just inside the door, silent and still as a statue.
“Where’s my kiss?” Bree murmured, turning onto her back.
He moved so fast, she’d barely managed to suck in a breath before Kyler planted his hands on the mattress, caging her in…and delivered a knock-out blow courtesy of his mouth. There was something about the kiss that snagged her memory, but she was too consumed to place it. Her limbs turned to jelly, her fingers grappling with the bedspread. The insides of her thighs began to itch, greedy for his hips to settle between them, but he broke contact before it could happen.
“Sleep, supergirl,” he said huskily, planting his lips on her forehead. “Everything will look better in the morning.”
A tingle on the back of Bree’s neck commanded her to go after him, but it took too long for her legs to move. His tall, reliable form disappeared through the doorway, the outline of him lingering and renewing the notion she was dreaming. And then there was nothing.
* * * *
Bree woke up smiling. She’d had the best dream. One she’d had many times in the past, but not recently. Not since Kyler left. And now she knew why.
She was supposed to be with him. Wherever he went.
Sitting up in bed, her heart was bursting with certainty from the remnants of her dream. Kyler standing on a green lawn, sunlight catching on the stubble adorning his chin and cheeks. Behind him, a house, modest and loved. A flannel shirt was tucked crookedly into the waistband of Kyler’s jeans because he’d been wrestling with their two boys and a big, clumsy dog. Footballs, dog toys, and bikes laying haphazardly every few feet on the grass.
This image, one she’d had a thousand times, had never been more vivid. Never more real. She could smell the chimney smoke in the air, feel the love in Kyler’s eyes as they reached her across the yard.
Bree gasped out loud at the impact of it. She needed to go see him now. Spending even one night apart seemed ridiculous all of a sudden. Or maybe it always had. She didn’t know. Didn’t know, but they would sort through everything together as soon as they were in the same room. Being away from him was causing this horrible ache. One that made her hands flutter over the spot, a lump sticking in her throat.
When her gaze landed on the bedside clock, Bree knew why. It was past one o’clock in the afternoon. Kyler’s flight left for Los Angeles today.
Bree’s blood chilled as memories from last night began to trickle in. The cameraman in the driveway. I did this, Kyler had said. Then…then that kiss. The familiarity of it.
Because he’d only ever given her a kiss like that once before. To say good-bye when she ended things on prom night.
“No. No. He wouldn’t leave yet.” Bree’s feet twisted in the sheet on the way out of bed, almost knocking her to the floor. In a daze, she went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, not seeing herself in the mirror. Seeing nothing except Kyler’s unreadable expression last night in the barn.
Everything is going to be fine. I understand now.
He understood what? Why…why she couldn’t go with him? Why she needed to stay? That’s what they’d been talking about, right? Los Angeles. Bree’s mother. All the cons on the list of why Bree couldn’t go with him. But none of the pros.
None of the reasons why she could.
Her bloodless fingers dropped the toothbrush in the sink, fear slicing straight up her middle.
He’d left.
Last night, he’d been saying good-bye.
Cymbals crashed in Bree’s head, balance deserting her as she ran back into her bedroom. Blood beat in her temples, her lungs scraped raw from dragging in jagged breaths. She pulled on the jean shorts still resting on the floor, shoved her feet into galoshes, and ran for the house’s front door. Rainclouds covered the sun, shrouding the house in gloom, moisture pouring down the windows.
She turned in a circle, trying to gather her bearings, but it didn’t work. Various images of Kyler cycled one by one through her consciousness. Dancing. Speaking to her outside the diner, casual ease forced into his voice. How could she have missed his determination? Had she been blind? Kyler across from her at the dinner table, driving beside her, walking the mare.
“Oh, please.” Bree grabbed her stomach and jogged toward the door. “Oh God, please.”
If he’d already left, changing Kyler’s mind would be a feat equivalent to turning back time. Convincing him she wanted—needed—to come along would be impossible if she let the deadline of his flight pass. The man did what he thought was best for her. Never failed. And she’d stupidly given him every reason to leave, to set her free.
I don’t want to be free of him. Being free of Kyler is the real prison.
Just before Bree reached the door, something stopped her in her tracks. The family portrait—which included her mother—that had been hanging since she was a child…had been replaced. The new photograph featured her father, her sister, and herself. Just the three of them.
It was the look in her own eye that captured Bree’s attention. It wasn’t far off and disconnected, the way her mother’s had been. No. She was present, looking down at Kira lovingly, her hand resting over Samuel’s where it lay on her shoulder.
A light went on behind her. “You could be a million miles away and we’d still feel you here. With us.” Her father’s voice came from the dining room, strong and steady. Full of affection. “You’re not abandoning us, Bree. You never could.”
She pressed the back of her hand over her mouth for a beat. “I abandoned him, though, didn’t I? Now I’m too late.”
“You’re underestimating him.” Her father’s long-suffering sigh turned Bree around. “I wouldn’t say that unless I meant it.”
“I know.” She pointed an accusing finger at her father but didn’t have the strength to keep her arm up. “You love him, too.”
“Don’t push it.” With a wink, he jerked his head toward the door. “Go.”
Bree rushed out into the rain without an umbrella, going straight for her truck. She pulled down the sun visor and the keys dropped into her lap, where Kyler had apparently left them. Such a simple gesture, but it made a sob rise in Bree’s throat as she gunned the truck in reverse down the driveway. Before turning onto the street, she caught sight of a red sedan parked on the main road. In the driver’s seat, a man watched her with a cautious smile.
An idea formed. But it would only work if Kyler hadn’t left.
And an awful pit in her stomach yawned wide, telling her…he had.
* * * *
Bree’s worst fear was confirmed when she pulled up in front of Kyler’s home.
There wasn’t a vehicle in sight.
Not his truck, not his daddy’s. His mother’s station wagon was gone, too.
Were they seeing him off at the airport? Was Kyler already on the way home, his plane nothing but a speck in the air on its way to Los Angeles?
She climbed out of the truck on shaky legs, her galoshes sinking into the mud, making her slip forward. The red sedan pulled up behind her in the driveway, the cameraman stepping out with plastic already positioned over his head and the camera. A look of sympathy skittered across his face before he hid it.
God, she could very well have brought this man along to witness her humiliation. She was too late. Had to be. Why would Kyler wait around for someone who’d doubted what they had together? Over and over. She wouldn’t even blame him if he’d given up and left.
Rain coasted down Bree’s cheeks as she walked slowly for the front door. Each footstep sank into the mud, as though God was trying to inform her this was a fool’s mission. The cameraman’s footsteps echoed hers, glopping every couple seconds in the mud. A slow-moving funeral procession.
Finally, she’d climbed the steps and stood outside the door. Her knock sounded so hollow, ringing back at her from inside the empty house. The rain began falling heavier, pounding the ground around the Tate house, thunder rolling far off in the distance.
Still, she knocked again, harder. “Kyler?”
The camera light went on behind her, reflecting in the brass doorknob, but Bree no longer cared about having an audience for her worst moment. No, there had always been far more at stake with Kyler than stupid cameras could ever capture. She would welcome hundreds of them in her face as long as Kyler held her at the end of the day, issuing challenges in her ear. Calling her—
“Supergirl?”
For a second, Bree thought it was her imagination conjuring Kyler’s voice. She whipped around toward the cameraman, but he was no longer pointing his device at her. No, the light shined on Kyler where he stood at the base of the steps, rain pouring down his head, dripping off his chin.
He was the most incredible, most beautiful sight she’d ever seen. Relief caught her so hard in the belly, she slumped back against the door, pinned there by the miracle she’d been given.
Kyler shot up the steps, concern etched on his beloved face. “Bree? What’s wrong?” He turned wild eyes on the cameraman, who wisely backed up but kept filming. “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of this. It won’t happen again—”
“No. No, he’s… I asked him to come.” Her hands trembled as she swiped at the rain in her face. “Oh God, I-I thought you’d left. I thought you’d left.”
Bree didn’t realize she’d slid down the door into a sitting position until Kyler went to his knees, crawling toward her. “Hey.” He cupped her face in two warm hands, his green eyes blazing. “I told you, Bree. I said it and you heard me. I’m not leaving without you.”
“But your flight—”
“I missed it.” His gaze moved over her face, catching on her eyelids, stray curls, her nose, mouth. “Your home is here. This is where you’re happy—”
“No, wait—”
“So I’m staying.” He shook her and repeated himself. “I’m staying. That’s how this was always going to work if you didn’t decide to come, supergirl. You just weren’t hearing me all the way.”
For the next few moments, the sound of rain falling and her tortured heartbeat was all she could hear. “You were going to give it up for me?”
“Not were. Am.” His thumbs skated over her lips. “None of it means a damn thing without you, Bree. I’m getting a little tired of saying it and not having you believe me.”
“So stop.” Lord, she couldn’t get her breath. This man. He was one and the same with her dreams. “Stop saying it. Because it means something to me.” She desperately tried to gather her thoughts. “I dreamed of you last night. Sons. We had sons. A yard and a dog. And you loved me. I could feel how much you loved me, clear across the yard.” Her voice fell to a whisper. “Clear from Cincinnati.”
Kyler’s eyes turned glassy, his breath escaping in a giant rush. “Damn right I love you.”
“California is the first step in that journey. We’re going to take it together. I want to, Kyler. I don’t want to stay here and wonder what we could have seen and done. Our own life. All the things that’ll steer it. The directions we’ll take.” Tears mixed with rain on her cheeks. “I want to go with you.”
He stayed very still, but hope livened his features. “Do you mean that?”
Bree was still nodding when he launched himself at her, wrapping her in a bear hug and hauling her onto his lap. They fell back onto the porch in the glow of the camera, still wrapped up in each other’s arms. “Christ. I thought I was imagining you standing on this porch, Bree.”
She clung to his neck. “Where were you?”
“Walking through the cornfields. Deciding on my next move with you.”
Her heart tripled its tempo. “What did you come up with?“
“I got as far as another dance off…” They both stopped to laugh, Kyler rubbing their noses together. “But I decided to go for broke and propose instead.” His hand went to his pocket, coming back with a simple antique engagement ring between two fingers. His expression turned serious, even in the wake of Bree’s gulping cry of his name. “I was going to refuse to take no for an answer. In case you’re wondering, that part hasn’t changed.”
“Ask me,” Bree murmured, framing his face with her hands.
“Be my wife, supergirl. Let me love you from across the yard.”
“Yes.”
A slow clap started from the base of the steps. Clearly having forgotten about their audience, Bree and Kyler both turned to look to find the cameraman flipping off the light and lowering his device. “Congratulations.” He turned away and started toward his car. “And good luck next season.”
“Who needs luck when I’ve got Bree Justice?” Kyler blew her mind with a slow, drugging kiss, his mouth hot and uncompromising. “Why did you bring him along?”
“To show you I’m going to be okay. There’s just you and me, Ky.” She licked into his mouth and moaned when he shifted his hips. “The rest is just noise,” she gasped.
“Come for a walk in the cornfields with me.”
“In the rain?”
That challenging expression she knew so well made Bree’s heart float up, up into the clouds. “Scared?”
“Scared?” She shook her head. “No. I’ll go anywhere with you.”
Minutes later, they disappeared into the stalks, eternity stretching out around them and in front of them.