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Trusting Bryson (Wishing Well, Texas Book 6) by Melanie Shawn (29)

Excerpt New Series: Whisper Lake Romance

Introducing our new series that is a Crossroads Spinoff

Whisper Lake Romance

Starting with

Allison & Kade’s story in

Whisper of Love

Coming Spring 2018

Unedited Excerpt

Chapter 1

“Are you looking at porn!?”

“What? No!” Kade’s brow furrowed as his eyes remained glued to the device he was clutching in his hands.

The grunts and groans she’d heard in the hall that had caused her to go where no man dared to go—a teenage boy’s bedroom—were silenced now. In the dark room the only thing she could see through the small crack in the door was her nephew’s face that was illuminated by the screen of the iPad he was holding. It was too bad he didn’t wear glasses so she could have seen the reflection of what he was watching in them.

“Give it to me.” Allison Walsh did her best to sound as authoritative as possible as she leaned into the door with her shoulder pushing it open. The task was made more difficult due to an enormous pile of laundry halting its path. After putting her back into it, she was finally able to move inside the darkened room.

The first thing that hit her was the overwhelming, pungent smell. The combination of dirty socks, rotten food, and a distinctive funk that, in her experience, was uniquely teen-boy aroma. Lifting her hand to cover her mouth, she instantly regretted the fact that she’d let the room checks slip over the last few months.

That’s not the only thing you’ve let slip, her inner—somewhat judgmental—voice chimed in.

Shaking off that truth she pushed ahead into the funk cloud and expertly navigated through the minefield of dirty laundry, pizza boxes and general debris that covered his floor. When she reached the bed, she snatched her nephew’s iPad out of his hands.

“Hey! What are you doing!?” he shouted angrily.

“You’ll get it back when your room is clean and the yard is mowed, K-man.”

“Don’t call me that,” her nephew shot back as he sat up on his bed and extended his hands to her like he was Oliver asking for ‘some mo’ please, except in a much more belligerent and rude manor. “You can’t take that, I need it for schoolwork.”

Shit. Ali’s mind raced as she searched her nephew’s light green irises for any hint of deception. Was he lying? Was he telling the truth? She had no idea.

Over the past year since she’d become legally responsible for her then pre-teen twin nephews she still hadn’t developed any kind of parent radar skills. She was officially in over her head and since the boys had both officially become teenagers the week before, she knew she hadn’t even hit the hard part yet.

With no clue as to whether he actually needed the device for scholastic reasons, she looked down to see if she could at least figure out what he’d been watching. It didn’t take much detective work since the YouTube video was still playing. It was an MMA fight that she’d seen at least a dozen times, which for her was a dozen times too many.

“This is not schoolwork.”

“Yes, it is! I have to write an essay on who my hero is.”

No. Not that. Not him.

Of course she knew that her nephew looked up to the man that he was named after. His godfather who happened to be a MMA fighter who got more press for his extra-curricular behavior than he did for his profession. Kade Donovan had been the reigning Bad Boy of MMA for nearly ten years, which was not an easy title to hold. That line of work didn’t normally attract choir boys. To stand out as trouble was quite a feat.

Hoping she could guide him in a different direction, she suggested, “Why don’t you write it on—”

“I already emailed him questions and told him I was! I’m writing it on Uncle Kade!” he screamed as he pulled the iPad from her hand.

“He’s not your uncle.” She knew that she was being petty by pointing that out but it was better than what she wanted to say which was, “He’s not your uncle, he’s an asshole who showed up at your dad’s, his best friend’s funeral drunk with a stripper and then when he found out that he was as legally responsible for both of you as I was he disappeared, leaving me to raise you and your brother alone.”

So yeah, petty wasn’t so bad.

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get anything accomplished by staying and fighting with her nephew and also knowing that if she didn’t start dinner now she wouldn’t have it done before he left for practice, she decided a strategic retreat was the best move.

If there was one thing she had learned over the past year, it was to pick her battles. As much as she wished her nephew being rude was one of the fights she could take on, it wasn’t. Not vandalizing property, or getting in fights in school, drinking, or stealing—all of which he’d done—were much higher on her list of priorities. At this point she was just trying to get him to eighteen alive and without a juvenile record.

“Clean your room,” she instructed as she made her way back through the mess, even though she knew it was a pointless request.

Before she’d even made it completely out into the hall, he yelled, “Shut the door!”

She did.

And then she leaned back against it as tears formed in her eyes. Not only was she doing a horrible job at raising her nephews, she was letting her brother, the only person that had ever loved her, down.

Growing up, neither of them had known who their father or fathers were. Their mother was an alcoholic who’d been in and out of jail for DUIs multiple times before she wrapped her car around a pole and died. Ali was twelve at the time and Patrick was twenty. He petitioned the court and got custody of her. She’d only had to spend six months in foster care, but it had been a nightmare. She wasn’t sure she would have survived if she’d had to be there until she’d turned eighteen.

So when Patrick had twins two years later and his girlfriend left him for another man Ali had been more than happy to step in and help out and take care of Patrick Jr. and Kade. And when her brother had asked her to be the twin’s legal guardian if anything should happen to him when she’d turned eighteen, she hadn’t hesitated, but she’d never thought she’d be called on to actually do it. When he’d told her that he would also be leaving his house and business Whisper Lake Rentals to her, she’d said great, never in a million years thinking either would come to pass.

In her eyes, her brother was invincible. He was larger than life. Her hero. But she found out that brain aneurisms didn’t care about any of that.

Next week would be the one year anniversary of Patrick’s death, and she honestly wasn’t sure how she was going to make it through, much less be there for her nephews. She missed her brother so much her body physically ached in agonizing pain. She felt so lost, so scared, so alone without him in this world.

The dryer buzzed downstairs loudly and she pushed off the wall, wiped her tear-stained cheeks and put one foot in front of the other, just like she’d been doing for the past twelve months.

As she started down the stairs, she saw Patrick John Jr. sitting at the kitchen table reading The Lord of the Rings.

“Hey, PB&J!” she greeted him using the nickname she’d used since he was a baby. Unlike her other nephew, Patrick didn’t mind it.

“Hey,” he answered not looking up from his reading material.

As she passed by him on her way to the laundry room she ruffled his hair. “How does hamburger helper sound for dinner?”

“Fine,” his response was flat and automatic.

She was pretty sure she could have asked how cauliflower and Brussel sprouts sounded and it would have been the same. It might seem that out of the two, sitting in the well-lit kitchen, reading a book and being polite was better than being holed up in a dark, dingy, room staring at a screen, and being disrespectful, but out of the two boys she wasn’t sure which one she was more worried about. At least Kade expressed himself, even if it wasn’t in a healthy or productive way. Patrick held everything in, he was quiet, he did his homework, helped her at the store, and even did chores without complaint.

At first she’d been so grief-stricken she hadn’t really noticed, she’d just appreciated that he was being so well-behaved. But over the past few months she’d grown more and more concerned. Both boys were in therapy, but she wasn’t sure it was working. Or maybe she wasn’t doing enough. Maybe she was failing them both.

An all too familiar guilt rose up in her. That was the thing that she’d never heard anyone talk about when they talked about being a parent. The worst part wasn’t all the work, or how expensive kids were. No, the worst part, the part no one ever talked about was the constant second-guessing. The constant worry and anxiety. The constant doubt that the decisions you were making were the right ones. The constant fear that you would drop the ball and do irreparable damage.

She blinked back more tears as she opened the dryer and pulled the clothes out into a basket before filling it with the wet clothes on deck in the washing machine. After grabbing a dryer sheet she synchronized slamming the door and pressing the on button. It was the only way to start the damn thing. It only worked if it was jarred at the same time the button was pushed. She’d found out the first time it hadn’t roared to life and out of sheer frustration she’d began kicking and slamming her hand against the button. It had started running and since then it was the only way to get the thing to work.

Resting the basket of laundry on her hip, she stood and caught her reflection in the mirror that was in the bathroom across the hall. She looked…haggard. Her long blonde hair was pulled up in a messy bun, emphasis on the messy, there were dark circles beneath her eyes and her cheeks were hollowed out. Her clothes were hanging on her frame, that was probably fifteen pounds lighter than it had been a year ago. Between taking care of the boys and running Whisper Lake Rentals, she never had time to take care of herself.

She let out a harsh puff of breath and revoked her one-way pass to Pity Town. She didn’t have time to visit there. Tonight, when she laid her head on the pillow, that’s when she’d let herself go and hit up all her favorite places, Why Me Store, This Can’t Be My Life Shop, Feeling Sorry For Yourself Boutique. She was a regular customer at all three, but only after the boys were in bed. When her responsibilities were taken care of for the day.

With renewed determination to pull herself together, she hummed as she started back up the stairs to fold and disperse the clean clothes. She hadn’t even made it to the third step when there was a knock at the door. Her stomach turned in dread. The last three unexpected visitors had all come bearing news of illegal activity that Kade had been involved in.

“What now?” Her shoulders dropped as she headed to the front door, feeling like she was walking the plank to her ultimate demise.

Knowing that she couldn’t face the bearer of bad news with a defeated attitude, she closed her eyes and took a deep, fortifying breath as she turned the knob and opened the door. She was glad she had, because when she opened the door, all of the oxygen in her lungs was sucked out.

She blinked, in shock, not believing what she was seeing. On her porch stood the only man, other than her brother, that she’d ever depended on, ever loved and the only man to ever break her heart. The man whose name she hadn’t even been able to utter for the past year, even though her nephew shared the same name. The man who had as much legal custody of and responsibility for her nephews as she had, but had disappeared off the face of the earth leaving her to pick up all the pieces. And also the sexiest, hottest, most infuriatingly charming man she’d ever known.

Kade Donovan.

Her mind went blank. Her arms and legs were shaking like leaves. And she didn’t know if she wanted to hit him or hug him. Probably both.

Hoping to hide her emotional and physical reaction and play it cool, she asked, “What are you doing here?”

He smiled and her heart practically leapt from her chest as a wave of tingles spread through her from head to toe. She didn’t understand how she could love someone and hate them at the same time. But she did.

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