by B. E. Baker
I call my brother back once I’m at the office, in front of my desk, with the file on our newest acquisition open on my computer screen. “Sorry I didn’t answer. I was driving before.”
“No problem,” he says. “It wasn’t a big deal.” Except his words are clipped, his tone clearly agitated. He actually sounds about like I feel.
“It wasn’t?”
“Nope.”
I wait silently, because something clearly was a big deal to him. Eventually he’ll spit it out, whatever made him upset. I’ve learned that when I press him for details, he doubles down like a tick that a vet’s trying to evict. Can’t go popping my own brother’s head off.
“Fine, I’ll just tell you.” He sighs heavily. “So you know Geo’s best friend Rob?”
“The marine with huge biceps and perfect hair?”
He grumbles. “They aren’t that big. But yes, that’s him, and you know yesterday was Memorial Day.”
“Yes,” I say. “I mean, I’ve never met the perfect Marine myself, but I did know it was Memorial Day.”
“Well, Geo always spends Memorial Day with Rob, or she has ever since her fiancé died anyway. She asked if it bothered me, and of course I said it was fine. But when I told her I’d like to come along, she looked at me like I suggested she dip her French fries in strawberry yogurt.”
“Wait, sweet potato fries or regular ones?”
“Brekka!”
“Sorry, I’m just kidding, okay? I’m listening, I swear.”
“She didn’t want me to hang out with them,” he says. “I could tell, so I didn’t go.”
“Okay.” There must be more to it than this, right? I mean, Trig adores Geo, and she is completely bonkers for him. But her fiancé died in a huge explosion with perfect Marine Rob, so I’m not surprised they’d spend Memorial Day together. It’s a little awkward since he’s a guy, I suppose, but it’s not like Rob and Geo ever dated or anything. I’m not sure what question to ask next. I don’t really get why he’s so upset.
Trig clears his throat. “I never told you this before because you get a little protective sometimes.”
“Me?”
Trig snorts.
“Fine, I might look out for you, but you’re just as bad. We only have each other. Which is exactly why you can tell me, no matter what it is. I promise I won’t judge.”
“After I asked Geo out on our first date—“
“When you stalked her to Macaroni Grill, you mean?”
Trig grunts. “When I happened to run into her and Rob at dinner at a local place, yes. Anyway, after Paul and I left that night, Rob told her he loved her.”
Wait, what? “Perfect Marine Rob tried to snatch her out from under you?”
“Not exactly snatch her, since they’d known each other for like twenty years. But he did finally profess his love for her, and he told her he considered their dinners to be dates. He had loved her since her fiancé died, or sometime around then, or maybe it happened after. I don’t know. The point is, Geo didn’t feel at all the same, but he did like her, or he does, so it made me kind of … nervous to send her over there alone all day.”
“Basically, she wanted to spend all day with a super muscular, caring, fairly rich guy who’s besotted with her? And she didn’t want you to come along.”
“I don’t know whether I’d call him super muscular, but sure. That’s essentially right.”
I lean back in my chair. “That sucks. Why didn’t you call me on Friday or Saturday or whenever you first heard about all this?”
“I had it under control. Geo loves me and I know that. If she wanted Rob, she’d have picked him, but she didn’t. She picked me.”
I lean forward again. “Uh, okay. So then what’s wrong? This story reminds me of one of Dad’s.” His stories meander like a third grader playing right field.
“That’s rude.”
“Then get to the point.”
“I let her go, but then I didn’t hear from her. She didn’t come home last night, and she didn’t answer my calls.”
I almost drop the phone. “Is she okay? Did creepy Rob like, kidnap her?”
Trig’s voice drops. It sounds nearly menacing. “I’d end him.”
“Okay, then what?”
“I drove over to his house, obviously.”
“Obviously.” But wait, at what time? “When did you go over there? Before or after you called the police?”
“Before. I mean, I didn’t even call the police, okay?”
“You suck at stories, Trig. What time did you go over there?”
“Three a.m. I went over at three.”
“And?”
“I saw Geo, all curled up and adorable, in Rob’s lap.”
“Uh, wait, are you saying she cheated on you?”
“No,” he practically shouts. “But she was asleep. On Rob. On hot Rob’s lap.”
I think about Geo. She adores my brother. I don’t doubt that. In fact, my brain was trying to reject the possibility of her cheating on Trig, even as I asked. But I can see how this Rob guy would make Trig nuts. He and Geo have been friends for a long time, and they hang out all the time. They’ve been through a lot together.
“How long have they been friends again?”
“At least twenty years,” Trig says. “They lived a few doors down from each other growing up. They met playing kickball or something. I guess Rob beat up some kid who told her she couldn’t play.”
“What a freaking Boy Scout.”
“Right?” Trig huffs. “I know nothing happened, but I’m sick of them having their little club that I’m not a part of.”
I wonder if he’d care if Rob was a girl, or a really unattractive guy. Probably not. Even so, it’s a valid irritation. At the same time, I can’t fault Geo, not really. Especially since she doesn’t seem to have many friends. I can relate to that deficit, and it makes the thought of cutting off anyone you care about a painful prospect.
“What are you going to do about it?”
“Probably nothing,” Trig says. “Seeing her asleep with him, all curled up, with his arm slung around her shoulder, well. It pissed me off, but I just drove back home. She called me the next morning and apologized. She told me she fell asleep on Rob’s couch next to him.”
“Which is true. At least she wasn’t withholding information.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I’m always on yours,” I say. “Every minute of every day of every month of every year.”
“I know you are. It actually helped just to tell someone. I love Geo, Brekka, and it’s hard. It’s so hard watching her care about anyone that much. Someone who’s not me, I mean. Does that make me a monster?”
No, it makes him human. “Not at all. Maybe tell Geo how you feel, but try to remember she’s lost her dad, and her mom too, essentially. That means she has you, and me of course, and her friend Paisley, and Rob. That’s pretty much it. So asking her to not be his friend might be… a steep ask.”
“Oh, I’m not doing that, not at all. I can handle it. And I don’t need her to think I’m coming unhinged.” He sighs. “Did you have a chance yet to look over the comparative analysis and EBITDA on Parker Family Holdings?”
I run him through my assessment, and then hop off the phone, ostensibly to finish digging through our leads. Instead I find myself pulling up the purchase order I recently approved to Franklin Graham Honda, Rob’s Honda dealership. Sixteen Honda Accords to use for company cars. My eyes stop at the address.
I should not even consider flying out to Atlanta and giving Rob a piece of my mind. Trig doesn’t need my help.
Even so.
I pull up the same purchase order twice. Then I google the dealership and work out a plan to get there. I don’t have a car in Atlanta, and I have a little control over my lower limbs, but not enough to drive myself without a modified car. I need at least a push pull or I’d be a total hazard on the road.
I mentally shake myself like a wet dog. I need to let th
is go.
Trig doesn’t need me to get involved. I force myself to review the files, but every time I close my eyes, even for so long as a blink, Annelise’s face flashes in front of my eyes.
I was better than her. So much better than her, but I didn’t win a single solitary gold medal, much less three. I’m a loser stuck in a metal chair. I can’t ski. I can’t walk. I can’t even crawl using my knees. The best I could manage in a pinch would be dragging my body behind me like crazy Ivar the Boneless in that History Channel show, Vikings. The only value I add to the world now is in analyzing companies to determine whether they’re a good investment.
Which is exactly what I should be doing right now, instead of imagining I might storm Rob’s office in Atlanta and let him have a piece of my mind. I evaluate the file and type my recommendation for Trig. I send it through the ether and glance at the photos on my desk. Trig swinging me around at a dance recital when I was twelve. Trig photo bombing at my high school graduation. Trig and I on the slopes, his arm slung around my shoulder.
My mother is a power vampire who hammered Trig and I like a drill sergeant. If anything, she’s grown scarier with age. My father hasn’t been in the same room as her for more than thirty minutes in years, and we usually have to photo shop us all into the same photo for Christmas cards.
Dad, on the other hand, always purchases lavish gifts, like a jet for my birthday, or a Porsche Cayenne for Christmas. He even gives gifts for things no one else does, like the Fourth of July, but I wouldn’t bet on him remembering my middle name, much less listening to me lament about matters of the heart. I’m not sure he even realized how the accident led to the ruination of my hopes and dreams. He hasn’t once asked how I’m doing since I lost use of my legs. I’m sure he cares about me, I’m just not sure he thinks about me much.
In the industrial strength vacuum left by my parents’ multitudinous shortcomings, my brother Trig stepped up. He came to every dance recital, every swim meet, every spelling bee, and every important ski run of my life. He cheered me on, he buoyed me up, and he stayed up late to commiserate when things didn’t go my way. Trig has been there for me from birth until present day, showering me with love and affection for more than twenty-seven years. He bought me my first pair of skis, and paid a fortune for a custom-made titanium wheelchair when I wanted to curl up and die.
The more I think of everything Trig has done, the more worked up I get that Rob would do anything to hurt my brother. I may not be able to compete in the Olympics, but I can sure as heck survive an unplanned trip out to Atlanta.
Robert Graham is going to rue the day he was so inconsiderate of Brekka Caroline Thornton’s brother’s feelings.
**If you enjoyed this sample chapter, be sure to grab the full length book of Finding Liberty, which clocks in at 376 pages!
Acknowledgments
First and foremost, thank you Whitney. You are my shining light. As I did my final edit pass, you were watching all the kids so I could have a writer’s retreat, here, at our home. I kicked you all out so I could have it all to myself. (Me, and nine other writers, anyway!) While you watched the kiddos, you read TWO of my books and told me how great they were. I don’t deserve you, but I sure am glad I tricked you into thinking I do.
Thanks to my mom next, as usual. She’s always happy to lend a hand, and she tirelessly slaves over edits, or cheerleading on drafts or whatever I need. And you let my kids and hubby come crash at your house, too.
Thanks to my Dad for telling me nice things about my writing in your own weird way. There’s no one else quite like you, and I wouldn’t and couldn’t love any other dad on earth as much as I love you. Your devotion has set a wonderful example to me in writing love stories.
Thanks to Esther for lending a helpful and friendly ear.
Thanks to the Writing Gals for their tireless efforts to bolster the indie community.
Thanks to my friends and ARC group for help and feedback on the blurb! I hate blurbs! Why can’t it just say “please please read my pretty book?”
Thanks to my cover artist, Shaela Odd, for her tireless efforts and patience with my tiny changes, my indecision and my general hemming and hawing over covers. You. Are. Amazing. Thanks for bringing Trudy and Paul to life.
And last, but not least, thank you to Tony Jennings, who worked with me on the tech issues so I wouldn’t completely embarrass myself. The key logger was his solution and I love it! Thanks so much for your consulting time and efforts!!
About the Author
Bridget loves her husband (every day) and all five of her kids (most days). She’s a lawyer, but does as little legal work as possible. She has three amazing horses, an overly energetic dog and backyard chickens. She dislikes Oxford commas, but usually uses them so that readers don’t complain. She makes cookies waaaaay too often and believes they should be their own food group. To keep from blowing up like a puffer fish, she kick boxes every day. So if you don’t like her books, her kids, or her cookies, maybe don’t tell her in person.
Also by B. E. Baker
The Finding Home Series:
Finding Faith (1)
Finding Cupid (2)
Finding Spring (3)
Finding Liberty (4)
Finding Holly (5)
Finding Home (6)
Finding Balance (7)
Finding Peace (8)
The Finding Home Series Boxset Books 1-3
The Finding Home Series Boxset Books 4-6
Books by Bridget E. Baker (same writer, but I use a different name for my fantasy and end of the world genre books!)
The Birthright Series:
Displaced (1)
unForgiven (2)
Disillusioned (3)
misUnderstood (4)
Disavowed (5)
unRepentant (6)
Destroyed (7)
The Birthright Series Collection, Books 1-3
The Sins of Our Ancestors Series:
Marked (1)
Suppressed (2)
Redeemed (3)
Renounced (4)
The Anchored Series:
Anchored (1)
Adrift (2)
Awoken (3—releasing July 15, 2021)
Capsized (4—releasing September 15, 2021)
A stand alone YA romantic suspense:
Already Gone
Children’s Picture Book
Yuck! What’s for Dinner?
