Chapter 11

Two days later, Owen looked up as his father walked into the room carrying a large, dusty box.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Ian Shaughnessy smiled as he placed the box down on the living room floor. “I decided to go into the attic and see what we might have up there for the kids. I’m all for buying new toys, but I thought it might be fun to see if your favorites were packed away.”

Owen had decided to check out of his hotel in Chicago early and come to North Carolina to see his family before heading to Red Rock. It seemed like a good time to get away—and it was a good distraction to help take his mind off of Brooke.

Except…she was all he could think about.

Maybe his father’s trek up to the attic would help.

“So what did you find?”

Sitting beside him, Ian clapped his hands and rubbed them together. “I have no idea, but it says Toys on the side in your mom’s handwriting, so I’m hoping we’ll find some good stuff in here.”

Ian opened the box, and Owen looked on in wonder. Here was something tangible—something his mother had touched, put her hands on—that no one had touched since. “I thought you went through the attic after Connor was born?”

“I did. But it was for baby furniture for the nursery. That attic is like a black hole. It’s big and dark and holds all kinds of treasures. But it’s a lot to do on my own. So I’ll admit, I didn’t look for anything other than furniture.”

Owen nodded and then watched as his father began to pull out items.

Toy trucks, trains, and cars. A jack-in-the box, a plastic baseball bat…

“Connor will love all of those,” he said, imagining his nephew playing with the toys. “It will be nice for him to have a collection of toys here so Hugh and Aubrey don’t have to bring so much with them every time.”

Ian looked over at him and smiled. “My thoughts exactly.” Then he turned and went back to pulling items out of the box. “I was hoping there’d be some stuff in here for Lily, but this box is from you and your brothers. Unless…” He fished around and smiled as he pulled out a crown and held it up victoriously.

“You think Lily will like it?”

Placing the crown on the table, Ian reached into the box again. “Not just the crown, but…” He pulled out a felt cowboy hat and then a sword, placing them all on the coffee table. “Costumes! I was hoping to make them a treasure chest filled with costumes the kids could use for dress-up.”

Owen chuckled. “That would be nice. You’ll have to go back up to the attic and see if you can find a box of Darcy’s things. I’m sure you’ll find plenty of costumes up in there. Seems like I remember her always wearing something.”

Ian laughed with him. “You all went through that phase. Sports uniforms, cowboys, Indians, superheroes…you kids dressed like them all.”

Owen smiled at the memory. “Riley and I were just talking about that the other night.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “We talked about how Mom used to call us—”

“Superman and Clark Kent,” Ian interrupted, smiling at the memory. “You two fit the bill on that. Riley in his cape, jumping around on the furniture, and you studiously reading a book with your glasses on.” He laughed softly and shook his head. “I believe there’s a photo album somewhere with the pictures from the Halloween your mom dressed the two of you like that. Everyone thought it was so clever.”

Looking back now, Owen could see why. But at the time… “I always wanted to be Superman.”

Ian looked at his son. “You did?”

He nodded. “Riley always took the cape.” It sounded ridiculous to keep saying that as a grown man. Then he shrugged. “It was who we were destined to be, I guess.” He hoped he sounded humorous, but when he looked up at his father, Ian’s expression was serious.

“Do you believe that?”

“Dad, I know Riley isn’t Superman—”

“Pretty damn close sometimes,” he countered. “But…do you think we—your mother and I—do you think we pushed you into those roles? Those stereotypes?”

“Like I said, it was who we were destined to be. I was always studious. I never wanted to do the things Riley or Aidan or Hugh or Quinn wanted to do. I wasn’t athletic or social. I didn’t like the spotlight on me.”

Ian reached over and patted him on the knee. “I’m afraid you get that from me.”

“I know.”

Pushing the box aside, Ian shifted on the sofa until he was fully facing Owen. “Your mother was the one with the big personality.” He shook his head. “I never understood what she saw in me. I was serious and studious…always wanted to do what was practical rather than what was fun.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that, Dad. You were responsible. You had to be. You had six kids to take care of.”

“No…I understand that. But we didn’t start out with six kids. I was like that even before we got married.”

That was surprising, Owen thought. He’d never much thought about his parents before they were parents. “Really?”

Ian nodded. “I was never quite as smart as you,” he said with a chuckle. “I was always in awe of your intellect. But I always had my nose in a book. While my friends were out on Friday and Saturday nights, I was home reading.”

“You had to leave sometimes,” Owen commented. “Otherwise you never would have met mom.”

A slow smile crossed Ian’s face. “I went to visit my grandparents the week after I graduated high school. She was visiting her grandparents who lived on the same block.” When he looked at Owen again, his eyes were a bit misty. “I took one look at her…and I knew. I just knew she was the girl for me.”

“How could you know? You…you hadn’t even talked to her.” There was an urgency to his question because he’d felt a similar reaction the first time he’d seen Brooke.

“Owen, you and I are not men who believe in whimsy or things we can’t prove. We’re practical and realistic. But I can tell you this—that day when I first laid eyes on your mother, I believed that dreams come true. I believed in love at first sight. And I believed in the power of wishing on a star and the possibility of fairy tales.” He paused for a moment. “Your mom made me believe in all of those things.”

Owen thought for a moment, and it didn’t take long for him to conclude that he understood 100 percent—Brooke had made him feel those things as well. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“How…” Owen paused for a minute to collect his thoughts. “If Mom was so different from you, how did… I mean… What did you say when you first talked to her?”

Ian ran a hand over his graying hair, his smile still in place. “She came and talked to me first,” he began. “I was sitting on the front steps of my grandparents’ house reading, and she was walking by.” He smiled at the memory. “She stopped on the sidewalk and looked at me and asked what I was reading. It took me a minute to realize she was talking to me.”

“What were you reading?”

“The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes,” Ian replied. “I used to love those stories.”

“I remember you reading them to us when we were kids.”

“You were the only one who was listening,” his father replied with a quiet laugh. “Quinn and Riley were reading comic books while Aidan and Hugh were arguing over sports.”

“I used to love hearing you read them,” Owen admitted and then he stopped and thought. “Did Mom like those books? Is that why she came over and talked to you?”

“I don’t think she liked Sherlock Holmes per se, but she enjoyed reading. She came and sat next to me, and we talked about books.”

“It’s nice that you had that in common.”

Ian shook his head. “Not really. We had very different views on books. Your mother was more interested in reading magazines—particularly the entertainment ones or the ones that were for women.” His smile grew. “She told me about all she had learned about makeup and clothes from reading magazines. I thought she was crazy. Beautiful…but crazy. I knew right away we had very little in common.”

“So what did you do?”

“We sat on the front porch for hours talking—mainly your mom,” he chuckled, “and her grandmother called for her to come in the house. I knew I had to do something—say something—to guarantee I’d see her again.”

Owen leaned forward as if he were anxiously awaiting the meaning of life. “And?”

“And I couldn’t think of a damn thing to say. She sat there smiling at me expectantly, and my mind was blank.”

Again, Owen knew the feeling. “Well, you must have thought of something because you got married and had six kids,” he stated, hoping to move his father along in the story.

“She was going to a party with her grandparents. Some sort of retirement party for one of their friends. She told me how much she didn’t want to go—how there weren’t going to be people there her age or that she knew—and she stood up and asked me to go with her.”

“Wow. She asked you out first?”

Ian nodded. “In my mind, she wasn’t asking me out on a date. She was asking me to go with her because she didn’t want to be the only young person there.”

“Did you go?”

“No.”

Eyes wide, Owen sat there in stunned silence. “Why? Why wouldn’t you go?”

“Because pretty girls didn’t ask boys like me out,” he said and then sighed. “At least it had been my experience up to that point. So she waved good-bye and said she’d see me around, and I watched her walk away.”

“What were you thinking as you watched her?”

“I thought…there goes…everything.”

“Wow,” Owen said with a sigh, leaning back against the sofa.

“Exactly. I felt sick to my stomach. I had laughed more in those few hours than I had in my entire senior year of high school. When she got to the front door of her grandmother’s house, she turned and waved to me again, but her smile was sad. Disappointed. And it made me feel even worse. Actually, I knew exactly how she felt because so many times I had been the one to get turned down. So I knew that sad smile well.”

“Me too.”

Ian reached over again and patted his son on the knee. “I’m sorry that you do. I know we all experience rejection, but for men like us who already lack confidence, it’s pretty devastating. I watched all your brothers deal with breakups and heartbreak, but…I never felt like they knew it at the same level that I did.” He shook his head. “Not that I wished it on them—or on you. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone. And yet…there I was rejecting a beautiful girl because of my own insecurities.”

“Did you talk to her the next day?”

“Nope.”

Now Owen knew the frustration his siblings felt when their dad told a story because right now, his father was killing him with this snail’s pace. “Dad—”

“I got up off my duff and walked down the street right then and there,” Ian said with a grin. “She stood there in the doorway watching me—wary at first, and then she began to smile. Oh, she had the most beautiful smile!” He looked at Owen. “Right?”

Owen agreed.

“I walked right up to her and asked her to have dinner with me—to skip the party and go out with me instead.”

“Please tell me she said yes.”

“She did,” Ian said happily.

“Wait…but you said you didn’t talk to her the next day.”

“We couldn’t. Her grandmother grounded her for staying out all night with me, so we had to wait a few days before seeing each other again.”

“All night? You and Mom stayed out all night? You were eighteen! How could she get grounded?”

“Your mom was a year younger than me—but not really. She would turn eighteen the following month, but her grandmother was a bit old-fashioned, and it upset her that we stayed out all night. I think she used your mother’s age as an excuse.” Then he laughed. “Your great-grandmother never liked me much—particularly after that. But in the end, it all worked out.”

“I never knew that about you two.”

“Who? Me and your mother or me and your great-grandmother?” Ian teased, and when Owen rolled his eyes, he just laughed more. “Anyway, I am thankful every day that I chose to come out of my shell and take a chance. We didn’t get our happily ever after…but what we had during our time together was better than any fairy tale.” His voice became thick with emotion. “I sit here and watch all you kids finding your ways, finding your forever people, and it makes me so happy. You may think I’m crazy, but I talk to your mom about all of you all the time.”

Tears stung Owen’s eyes. “You do?”

“Absolutely. I know it probably seems crazy—after all, it’s not like she’s going to answer me—but it makes me feel good to talk to Lillian about how her kids are doing.” He turned his head away for a moment and then looked at Owen, his expression serious. “You were the one we worried about the most.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re like me.”

“I think it’s my greatest trait,” Owen said, meaning it. “You’re the best man I know, Dad. I only hope someday I’m half the man you are.”

“Son, you are more than twice the man I am,” Ian countered. “You’re brilliant and successful in your career, and you don’t shy away from things that make you uncomfortable.”

What? Was he serious? “Dad…yes, I do. All the time! It’s why I’m here right now—because I’m hiding out!” Owen stood and paced the room, stepping around the pile of toys. “I may be willing to take on things with my job that I don’t love or that take me out of my comfort zone, but in my personal life? I’m a coward.”

Ian studied his youngest son for a moment and then stood. “I’m thirsty. You want a beer?”

The only time Owen drank beer was when he was home with his family. He followed Ian to the kitchen. “Sure.”

Taking his time, Ian pulled out two bottles, opened them, and handed one to his son. Then he took a long pull of his before he spoke again. “What are you afraid of?”

“You mean in general or with women specifically?”

Ian leveled him with a glare.

“Dad… She’s… Brooke is—”

And right then Ian held up a hand to stop him. “She brings light into your world. She makes you smile and makes you stop taking yourself so seriously. She challenges you, and you see the world differently when you’re with her.”

Owen nodded. “How did you know?”

“Because that’s what your mother did for me.” He placed his beer down on the kitchen counter. “Every relationship comes with challenges, Owen. No two people are alike, and really, you shouldn’t be. When you’re with the right person, you make each other better. You…you enhance one another. Does that make sense?”

“I don’t know.”

“Owen, look at our family. I mean look at the dynamics of all the relationships. I was shy; your mother was outgoing. Aidan hated changes of any kind, while Zoe’s entire life was about making changes. Quinn was a bit of a charismatic womanizer, while Anna was a homebody. Riley could charm the entire world except for Savannah. And your brother Hugh was the worst. That boy was so steeped in the routines he’d set up for himself that he had no idea how to handle someone like Aubrey! The yin and yang. The balance.”

“You’ve seen Brooke, Dad. I mean…look at her. And then look at me. Are you honestly saying you see us working?”

“What’s wrong with you?”

Ugh. Why did he keep setting himself up for these conversations? “Dad, I’m a fairly nerdy guy. She used to compete in beauty pageants.”

“Wow,” Ian murmured, reaching for his beer. Then he turned to walk out of the room.

“Wow,” Owen repeated. “What do you mean…wow?”

“I mean when did you become such a snob?”

Owen’s eyes went wide. “Snob? I’m not… I’ve never… Why would you even say that?”

“Because that’s exactly what you’re being! A snob! All those years you complained about people judging you by how you looked or how you talked or the subjects you studied, and yet here you are doing the exact same thing to Brooke.” He paused and took a drink. “I’m a little disappointed in you.”

“I’m not—”

“You are!” Ian cried out with exasperation. “You think because Brooke is a beautiful woman, she can’t be genuinely interested in you! What do looks have to do with it?”

“I told you about her life…about her brother… Don’t you get it?”

“I do, Owen. I think you’re the one who doesn’t. And for such a smart man, that makes you foolish.”

“Hey!” Hadn’t Riley said something similar just days before?

“That’s what I’m saying,” Ian snapped. “Hey!” And then he turned and walked from the room.

“So what am I supposed to do?” Owen yelled after him. “Am I supposed to just pretend that I’m not concerned? Just…just forget what I know? I can’t do that!”

Ian turned and looked at him. “You’re supposed to believe in yourself! For crying out loud, Owen, we’ve been telling you that for your entire life! The only one doubting you is you!”

It was a tense and quiet few minutes as they both made their way back to the sofa to sit down. Owen’s mind was reeling. He was tired—exhausted really. His father—hell, everyone—was right. The only one with a problem with him…was him.

And he had thrown away his…everything.

When he looked over at his father, he saw him going through the box of toys again.

“How do I get her back?” he asked quietly.

Ian turned his head and looked at Owen, his smile growing. He reached into the box and pulled out one last thing. “I think this would probably do the trick to give you the confidence you need.”

It was Superman’s cape.

* * *

Brooke stared at the reminder on her phone.

Leave for Red Rock.

Yeah, that was supposed to be the plan. Her airfare had already been paid for, as well as a three-night hotel stay. All of it was going to waste.

Dammit.

The alert was telling her that her flight was in six hours. She wished she had thought to go through her phone and cancel everything on her calendar about this trip. It was hard enough dealing with her breakup with Owen—she didn’t need her phone rubbing it in.

Brooke sat on the bed, leaned against the pillows, and sighed. How the hell had things gone so wrong? It didn’t matter how many times she replayed her argument with Owen over and over in her head, she still couldn’t believe he could doubt her feelings for him.

And surprisingly, he never came out and told her how he felt either.

She had told him she loved him—and it hadn’t changed anything. Granted, she’d done it while screaming at him in the middle of an argument, but…still. For what it was worth, Brooke was glad she’d said it.

Even if it was in anger.

“Why would you even think someone as good as Owen would want you?” she muttered to herself. “There’s no way to shake this stupid perception people have of you, no matter what you do.”

Her phone rang, and for a second, she thought it was Owen calling to tell her he was sorry and beg her forgiveness. She quickly reached over and grabbed the phone.

Darcy.

The last thing she wanted right now was to talk to any member of the Shaughnessy family, but she knew how persistent Darcy could be—she would only keep calling. Better to get it over with now.

“Hey, Darcy!” she said, forcing the cheeriness into her tone.

“Oh my God! Where are you? Is he okay?”

“Um…what?” Brooke asked, instantly concerned.

“Owen!” Darcy cried. “I swear I can’t get anyone on the line. I had a lousy connection with my dad, and none of my brothers are answering. Dad said Owen was sick at the hotel. Is he okay? Have you taken him to the doctor?”

“I—”

“I know he’s stubborn—it’s always the quiet ones, you know?—but tell him he has to go to the doctor. Especially with this big meteor shower thing going on.”

“Darcy, I…I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m not with Owen.”

“You’re not?” Darcy asked, her tone going up in surprise.

“Uh…no. I don’t even know where he is.”

“He’s in Nevada. Dad said he left yesterday. I just assumed you’d be with him. Have you talked to him?”

“Not in a few days,” Brooke said quietly, although her heart was racing. Owen was sick and alone? What was he doing in Nevada already? They were supposed to fly out today! The obvious answer was that he’d changed his flight, but it didn’t explain why he’d left earlier than he’d scheduled.

“Are you guys okay? Did you have a fight?”

Brooke sighed. This was definitely not a conversation she wanted to have. With anyone. “We broke up.”

“Shut. Up.”

That almost made her smile. “It’s the truth. Unfortunately.”

“Wow… I’m sorry. Was it because he’s weird? It’s okay, you can tell me. We all think it at one time or another. Owen’s very intense and scary smart, and sometimes it comes off as weird.”

“No!” Brooke cried, suddenly angry that a member of his own family would describe him that way. “He’s not weird! He’s never been weird! He’s brilliant and sweet and kind and…I love his intensity and the way his mind works! His intellect challenges me, and I hate how no one else seems to get that about him!” Then she muttered a curse and forced herself to calm down.

“Damn, Brooke. Relax. I wasn’t saying it like it was a bad thing,” Darcy said. “So…if you think he’s so awesome, why’d you break up?”

She gave Darcy the abbreviated version of their fight. “The thing is, just like you and everyone else will always look at Owen and think he’s a little weird, people are always going to look at me and think mean girl. I hate it. I hate it as much as he hates the label that’s stuck on him. But I can’t force him to see me differently. I can’t do anything more than I already have to prove I’m not that girl anymore or that I don’t see him as some sort of project.”

“I know exactly how you feel.”

“You do?”

“Unfortunately, yes.”

This was new information to Brooke. Not that she knew a whole lot about Darcy Shaughnessy, but everything she’d heard had been about how she was intimidating to her brothers, not to anyone else.

“I know everyone teases me about being small and scary,” she began with a laugh. “But that’s just because I was the only girl in a houseful of men. I used to think it was fun getting bossy with them and saying things to freak them out to get my way. I guess I didn’t realize I was doing it at school and with my friends too.”

“It sort of takes on a life of its own,” Brooke said.

“Exactly! Anyway, part of the reason I wanted to go to school out of state when I graduated was because…well…I wanted a clean slate. I wanted to go someplace where nobody knew me. Where I wasn’t one of the Shaughnessys or where people didn’t know I had five older brothers or that I had a big mouth.”

“Darce, to be fair, everyone’s kind of a jerk in high school—”

“It didn’t matter. I was mean to a lot of people. I would use the threat of my brothers to get my way with people, while at home I was pushing them all away for always being in my business.” She paused for a moment. “So besides being a mean girl in school, I was a complete brat at home.”

“Oh yeah…been there. Done that. Except without the five older brothers. But I was horrible to Neal just the same. You at least still have all your brothers and they didn’t take your actions to heart. I’ll never…” She couldn’t finish the statement. It didn’t matter how much time had gone by, the pain was never going to lessen.

“Hey,” Darcy said softly, “I’m sorry. I can’t even imagine what you’re feeling. I know I’m lucky my brothers all care and that they love me but…the thing is…I’m not very close with any of them either. We all joke and laugh, and we’re happy when we’re together, but…I’m still an outcast in a lot of ways.”

“It’s probably because you’re so much younger.”

“That has a lot to do with it, but at the same time…I haven’t got anything in common with them. It kind of sucks.”

“I’m sorry, Darce. I really am. I’m sure in time—”

“I know,” Darcy quickly interrupted. “I know. I’m glad they’re all married and they married great women who do get me. They’re all so perfect for my brothers…You are too, you know.”

Brooke sighed. “I thought so too. But it just wasn’t meant to be.”

“Well…I hope you and I can still be friends.”

“I’d like that. A lot.”

“I should go. I want to try to get Owen on the phone and make sure he’s okay. I kind of feel like he and I bonded after the whole fiasco in Vegas. I hate that he’s sick and alone in some hotel room.”

So did Brooke.

“You said the connection with your dad wasn’t good. Are you sure he said Owen was sick?”

“Yes! We were talking and he was saying how he was going to try to get a flight out because Owen was sick and he was worried and—”

“Okay, okay… I still have my ticket, and it’s a direct flight. It won’t get me there soon, but it will get me there today,” Brooke said, worry for Owen overwhelming her. “Is Riley still in LA? He could get there faster.”

“He’s in London this week for a performance or something,” Darcy replied anxiously. “Are you serious, Brooke? You would do that? Even though…you know…you guys aren’t dating anymore?”

“Darcy, the breakup wasn’t my idea. I hate it, actually. But I couldn’t stay with him knowing he thought the things he did. I told him I loved him, and—”

“You did? Oh my God, that’s awesome! You have to go! You have to go and make sure he’s okay, and then maybe—”

What can of worms had Brooke just opened? “One thing at a time, Darce…one thing at a time.”

“Okay, you’re right. Sorry. I just… Owen’s the best, you know? I mean, out of all of my brothers—and I know they’re all great—Owen’s special. He’s got the biggest heart, and I hate knowing he’s alone so much. That’s why I thought it was so great that the two of you had found each other. I knew you’d take care of him.”

Brooke’s heart actually hurt. “I wanted to…”

“Then go! Please!” Darcy begged. “Go to him. He’s already a mess over this trip. I know that can’t be helping him with whatever’s going on right now.”

Could she do this? Could she get on the plane and go to Owen? What if…

“What if he doesn’t want me there?”

“Oh please. How could he not?”

Now her heart felt as if it would pound right out of her chest. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to do—to see him and make him see reason. To convince him to give them another chance!

Jumping up from the bed, she said, “I’ve gotta go, Darcy. I have to pack!”

“Yeah! I totally love that you’re going! Promise me you’ll call and tell me what’s up! And I’m going to want to know everything! Like every word he says when you barge in there and demand that he take you back! Only…wait until he’s not sick anymore. You know…show him a little sympathy. And then—”

“Darcy!”

“Yeah?”

“I have to go!”

“Okay, okay! Sheesh!”

* * *

Twenty minutes later Brooke walked outside and found her uncle sitting alone at the chess table. “You got a minute?”

“For you,” he replied, smiling, “I’ve got as many as you need. What’s up?”

“First…how are you feeling?”

He shrugged. “Not so bad today. Your mother texted that she’ll be here at five, so I’m hoping to still be feeling that way when she gets here.”

“You’ll have to give her my love.”

Howard’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to Red Rock.”

And then Howard’s entire face transformed from confusion to pleasure. He was positively glowing. “Really?”

Brooke nodded. “I have to. I have to go to him.”

Slowly, Howard came to his feet and walked over and hugged her. “Thank God.”

She pulled back and looked at him. “What does that mean?”

“Brookie, you’ve been moping around, and when I spoke to Owen yesterday, he sounded positively morose. It’s obvious you’re both miserable. So go. I’ll handle your mother for you.”

“I hate to just leave like this.”

“Nonsense. You were always going to be leaving on this trip. You just forgot about it for a while.”

Brooke couldn’t help but smile. Leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek and gave him another hug. “Thank you. For everything.”

“Promise me something,” he said, his tone serious, solemn.

“Anything.”

“Stop looking at the past. Both of you. It’s time to start looking toward the future.”

“I know,” she said softly. “I’m going to try.”

Howard shook his head. “That’s not enough. You need to move forward now, but to do that, you need to say good-bye—to the past. To your guilt. To everything.”

Her throat tightened. “How… I don’t know—”

“This little green space I have out here is a sanctuary to me. I come out here sometimes and…talk.”

Seriously, now? Now he was choosing to go back into this speaking-in-riddles mode?

“I love when we come out here and talk,” she said, hoping to prompt him along. She still had to call a cab.

Howard shook his head. “Although I enjoy that too, that wasn’t what I was talking about.” He paused. “I come out here and talk to your aunt. And Neal.”

She took a small step back and looked at him as if he were crazy. “You mean when we were younger. When—”

“No. I mean now. In the present. Hell, I sat out here talking to your aunt just last night. She’ll be thrilled that you’re going after Owen.”

Maybe his illness was making him hallucinate, she thought. “Uncle Howard…you can’t—”

He didn’t let her finish. “Brooke, you can talk to those who are no longer with us anywhere you want. It doesn’t have to be at a cemetery or while you’re in church. This garden, your aunt and I used to sit out here a lot—have a glass of wine, talk about our day. When you and your brother would come to visit, we’d sit out here, play chess, and talk.” He paused, laughed softly. “That boy was a whiz at chess, but I had figured out his strategy.”

“His strategy?”

Nodding, Howard said, “He favored the bishop. Always.” Then he pointed to the corner of the yard. “I had that made for him—as my own little memorial to him. I think he would have liked it.”

And there in the corner of the yard was a three-foot-tall statue of a bishop. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? “When did you do that?” she asked, even as she walked over to it.

“About a year after he died. I keep it there—it’s always in my line of vision when I play—and it makes me feel like he’s here with me.” He shrugged. “But maybe that’s just the wishful thinking of an old man.”

She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “It’s lovely. And it’s perfect.” Her heart hurt, her throat constricted.

Howard put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed. “Talk to him. Before you go. Just…talk to him.”

Before she could form a protest, he was in the house, the door closed. Brooke stood there for a long moment, not knowing what to do or say. It seemed…weird. When Neal had died, he’d been cremated. There was no cemetery plot to go to, no markers anywhere. He had loved the ocean, and his ashes had been scattered there. Now, as she looked down at the bishop, she smiled because…Neal had a marker.

The spot was shaded, and she slowly sank to the grass and sat facing the garden. A small, self-conscious laugh came out before she could stop it. “Am I crazy?” she murmured and then waited to see if someone would answer. After a long moment of silence, she swallowed hard and took a steadying breath. With her eyes closed, she slowly breathed out and then focused on the bishop.

“I know it’s too late,” she began, her voice trembling, “too late for this to really matter or make a difference, but…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She paused, swiped at the tears that were already blinding her. “That night—that horrible night…I know I said that to you, screamed it, begged you to hear me, but you were already gone. Maybe you did hear me, but…it was too late.” Her voice cracked, and she took a minute to compose herself.

“If I could, I’d take every mean thing I ever said to you, every indifferent shrug, every snarky comment—I’d take it all back. I’d listen to you. Learn from you.” Then she stopped and chuckled. “Not that I would have been successful. You know I was never very good with academics.”

A small breeze blew by, and Brooke did her best to tame her hair, move it out of her face.

“I never understood why…why we were so different. I look back, and it’s easy to blame Mom and Dad. But we weren’t children. Not at the end. We knew better. We could have tried harder.” And then it hit her. “We both could have tried harder, Neal. I know I wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. You were the smart one—I’m sure you figured it out long before I did that we could have changed our relationship. Maybe…maybe if you had talked to me like a sister rather than a nuisance…” Then she stopped, knew she was kidding herself. “I probably wouldn’t have listened.”

Swiping away more tears, she let out a long breath. “Why’d you do it like that? Was that my punishment? Was that your way of finally getting even with me for being such a bitch?” Her voice grew stronger, her heart beat harder. “Well…you win! It was horrible! And it was mean and cruel—far more than anything I ever did to you!” She jumped to her feet, suddenly filled with rage. “Do you have any idea what that did? What your actions did to me? To Mom? To Dad? If you weren’t happy, why didn’t you talk to someone? Uncle Howard or a counselor or…anyone! Damn it, Neal, there… What you did wasn’t the answer!”

Another breeze blew, and Brooke cursed the fact that her hair was loose.

“You’ve missed so much,” she said after a long, quiet moment. After she’d gotten herself a little more under control, she continued. “That night…it was so wonderful to talk to you! I learned more about you in that one hour of conversation than I had ever known before then. I felt like… I thought you enjoyed it too. That maybe you actually liked me—as a person. It made me feel good that my successful and supersmart brother saw some value in me beyond a pageant title.” She paused. “And then you left. And you left me to find you. Why? Why, damn it?”

Another pause. Another moment to calm her breathing, her thoughts. She knew she wasn’t going to get an answer. “You would have liked Owen. He’s scary smart like you. But he’s so much more than that. He’s kind and sweet and gentle and compassionate. I look at him, and I’m in awe—not just of all he’s accomplished but because he sees me in a way that no one else ever has. I think about how amazing it would have been for us to all have dinner together, for me to have to sit there and listen to the two of you talking about things that I didn’t understand.” She chuckled. “And I probably would have griped about it, and ultimately we would have laughed and found a topic we could all talk about. At least…that’s how I like to think it would have been.”

Somewhere off in the distance a horn honked, and she could hear a car door closing—life beyond the fence was moving on.

Just as she needed to.

“I miss you. Every single day…I miss you. I wish I had known you—really known you. And I’m so sorry that you thought that leaving this world was better than staying here.” She stood and waited—hoped—for…something. Anything. Some sort of sign that he’d heard her. Did her uncle ever get that?

She wiped away her tears and sighed, looking down at the bishop. “What I wouldn’t give to just talk to you one more time.” Reaching out, she touched the statue, knowing full well it wasn’t Neal, but it seemed…fitting. “I love you.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

Turning, she walked toward the house and felt…better. A little emotionally drained but better. If she could, she’d talk for hours, and maybe at another time, she would. But for now—for today—it was good. The wind picked up, and she looked at the chess table and saw that her uncle had left the pieces out. They started to wobble in the wind, and she hurried forward to catch any that fell. Amazingly, only one did. Crouching down, she picked it up. As she stood, Brooke studied the piece in her hand and smiled.

The bishop.

Her hand closed tightly around it, and she smiled and looked up at the sky.

“Thank you.”

Placing the piece in her pocket, Brooke walked back into the house and found her uncle sitting on the sofa reading. She walked over and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you.”

He didn’t ask for her to clarify. He smiled at her because he knew.

“You were absolutely right,” she said.

He nodded.

Looking at her watch, she knew it was time to go. “I need to… I still have to call—”

“Go,” Howard said, his smile serene. “Have a safe trip.”

“Wish me luck!”

“Always, Brookie. Always.”

She was about to leave the room when she turned to him. “I owe you a chess piece.”

Chuckling, Howard waved her off. “No worries. I have a spare set of pieces.”

Relief swamped her. “I love you, Uncle Howard.”

“Love you too, my sweet girl. Now go or you’ll miss your flight!”

She ran up to her room and grabbed her luggage, purse, and phone and then quickly ran back down. She had ordered an Uber to take her to the airport, and the car was due any minute. Rather than wait for a text, Brooke headed for the curb.

It was silly to go to the airport so early, but if there was a chance she could get on an earlier flight, she was going to take it.

The car pulled up, and she tossed her bags in and climbed in beside them. The driver confirmed which terminal she was going to, and then they were on their way. She contemplated calling Owen—to alert him she was coming and to check on him—but decided against it. She didn’t know if she’d be able to handle him telling her not to come. No, she’d rather take the chance and show up and deal with him face-to-face.

The airport was only ten miles away, but with traffic it took almost thirty minutes to get there, and she was practically bouncing in her seat the entire time. She quickly paid the driver, collected her belongings, and ran to the ticket counter. Unfortunately, there were no seats available on flights that would get her to Nevada any sooner—the only ones that left sooner had layovers and wouldn’t save her any time, so she opted to stick with her original flight.

To pass the time, she ate lunch, bought some magazines, and pretty much cursed the clock, which didn’t seem to be moving at all. When her flight was finally called, she almost jumped up and cheered. And although it felt like it took forever, she knew it wasn’t long before she boarded and the plane was ready for takeoff.

She fidgeted almost the entire flight. To the point that she was getting angry looks from the woman sitting beside her. But Brooke didn’t care. Her mind was racing with trying to come up with what she was going to say to Owen when she saw him and…

Wait a minute.

Where was she going to be seeing him? Damn it! In all of her rushing around, she never thought to confirm he was staying at the hotel where they had originally planned to! What if—because of his change in travel plans—he had changed his hotel too? There wasn’t anything she could do about that now. Once she was off the plane, she’d have to text Darcy to see if she could find out. If not, she was stuck taking a shuttle to the hotel and hoping for the best.

Sure enough, it looked like she was going to hope for the best. When the plane landed, Darcy wasn’t answering her calls or texts, so with no other choice, Brooke took the shuttle she and Owen had originally booked and headed for their hotel.

Once Brooke arrived, she went to the front desk and asked for Owen’s room. Part of her was afraid they wouldn’t tell her, but luckily, both of their names were on the reservation.

“Yes, ma’am. Mr. Shaughnessy checked in early. He is in room 1010. If you walk to the far left side of the lobby and turn right, you’ll find the elevators there.” The clerk handed her a key and wished her a pleasant stay.

“Thank you,” she said, relief flooding her. It was all she could do to keep from running across the lobby, but that’s not to say there wasn’t a whole lot of pep in her step! At the elevators, she was back to being nervous as she hit the button and waited, and she was thankful that when the elevator arrived and the doors opened, she was the only one boarding.

“Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous,” she chanted. “If nothing else, you know he’s polite and won’t throw you out.” That was little comfort actually. She didn’t want Owen to be polite; she wanted him to be happy to see her. Thrilled to see her. Hell, she wanted him to be so relieved that she was there that he would fall to his knees in gratitude.

Wishful—and ridiculous—thinking, she knew.

The elevator dinged as it stopped on the tenth floor, and Brooke stepped out and got her bearings. With the sign pointing her in the right direction, she took a steadying breath, turned to the right, and made her way down the hall.

At room 1010, she stopped. Looking down at herself, she straightened her top and smoothed down her skirt before quickly running her fingers through her hair. She almost reached into her purse for her lip gloss but knew she was just stalling for time.

“Just do it. Just knock. It’s not hard.”

And yet…she didn’t.

For a solid minute, Brooke stood there and wondered if she had made the wrong decision. Maybe this wasn’t the time to act rashly and do something so out of the—

Then she remembered the last time she had done something impulsive—when she and Owen had hopped a plane to Vegas together.

And it was the best decision she’d ever made.

Lifting her hand, she knocked on the door and said a silent prayer that this impulsive trip would turn out even better than the last one.

She swallowed when she heard the doorknob rattle. The door opened, and her smile and greeting fell when she got a look at Owen. He was pale and shirtless. His dark hair was in complete disarray, and he had a large bandage covering the right upper part of his chest.

“Oh my God,” she whispered, her hand already reaching out to him. “What happened to you?”