They took their places on the stage while the coordinator stepped back to make sure it looked right. Cam looked past Dillan and Miska—who held hands and talked intimately, a huge smile lighting Miska’s face—to Jordan directly opposite and, like him, two steps down from the bride and groom.
Pretty sweet that he’d have a perfect view of her tomorrow throughout the ceremony.
She smiled at him, and Cam raised his eyebrows. Marry me, he mouthed.
What? she asked.
Marry. Me.
A playful smile curved her lips, even as she rolled her eyes and tapped the bare ring finger on her left hand.
Yeah. Details. But he was working on that. Once Dillan and Miska were back from their honeymoon, he’d ask Jordan for real. Make it official.
They practiced walking off the stage, up the aisle, and out to the church’s foyer.
Jordan slid her hand from where it curled around his bicep down to his hand. “You know,” she said, “you keep randomly asking me to marry you like that, and I’m not gonna believe you when you’re serious.”
“Oh, you’ll believe me.” Cam stepped aside for Miska’s dad to join her for the walk down the aisle. “You’ll know when it’s the real thing.”
“How?”
Because he’d probably be a bit of a mess himself. He knew it.
“Cam?”
See? He was starting to lose it now. What was wrong with him this summer? He cleared his throat. “You sure you want me? An old guy who’s already getting emotional about everything? How bad am I going to be when I hit forty?”
Jordan leaned into him and planted a kiss on his lips.
Cam closed his eyes and cradled her against him.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Garrett called from somewhere beyond them.
They broke apart to laughter from the rest of the bridal party, and Cam sent Garrett the evil eye.
“What? You’re kissing my sister.”
Yes, and Garrett needed to get used to it. Cam kissed her again, then held her close. “What is he going to say when we have kids?”
Jordan laughed as she slipped out of his arms.
They prepared for the walk down the aisle, and Cam tried not to think too far ahead to when it would be their turn.
Why?
Because it was Miska and Dillan’s turn now.
Because Jordan deserved to be loved. Cherished. Honored.
Because they both were worth doing it right.
Dear Reader,
Thank you so much for reading Taken and for spending time with me, Cam, and Jordan. If you’ve read Kept already, I hope you enjoyed revisiting that world and those characters and getting peeks into Miska and Dillan’s life together. This book was a bit different in style from what I normally write, but I hope to do more full-length novels for Kept characters down the road. Just waiting for the right idea to come together. Details, details! Right?
In the meantime, I’ve started a new book series about second chances. Like Kept, the Chicago Wind series deals with characters who are facing hurts and tough decisions, all while working to grow as a Christian. In Homestands, a professional athlete stumbles across his ex-wife, the son she hid from him, and the rare opportunity to right his wrongs; but a secret from the past threatens attempts to repair their shattered relationship. I thoroughly enjoyed Mike and Meg’s story and hope you love it too. Keep reading for a sneak peek at the first chapter!
I do love hearing from you, reader friend, so feel free to get in touch with me either through my website or my Facebook page. I’d love to talk with you. And please subscribe to my newsletter to find out when more books are coming out.
Until we meet again,
Sally Bradley
PS: Don’t forget to keep reading for a peek at Homestands!
Homestands
Chicago Wind, book one
When baseball star Mike Connor stumbles across his ex-wife six years after their divorce, he’s stunned to find that she's the mother of a kindergartner who wears his jersey. And shares his last name.
The last thing Meg Connor wants is to be around Mike. After all, he was the one who hurt and abandoned her. But she can’t deny him—or their son—time together to build a relationship, which means Mike is around too often, reminding her of why she fell in love with him so long ago. If only she could forget their past… The painful and the good.
Between their guilt and closely held hurts, Meg and Mike struggle against each other, their feelings, and God as they fight their own desires for the future, a future that might never happen when the past that tore them apart collides with their present.
Chapter One
The end came, as it nearly always did, when his thoughts were elsewhere, his focus on other things. When life seemed okay, if not good.
This time he was staring at the years-old picture he held of himself with Meg when he realized that someone had, several seconds ago, sat down beside him on the bed.
And that it could only be Sara.
It was too late to hide the picture.
But he did anyway.
Sara drew her eyes slowly to his, her lips pressed together. “This isn’t working, is it?”
“I just found it. I was packing and—”
“Mike Connor.” She laughed and eased to her feet with the same calm reaction she gave all of his jokes. “Who do you think you’re lying to here?”
“No one. I’m not lying.”
“Well, you’re definitely not lying to me.” She turned in front of the bathroom doorway and watched him.
He tried not to squirm.
Her crossed arms said control, not self-preservation. She pursed her lips. “I’ve seen this coming for a while, you know.”
He played dumb. “Seen what coming?”
“The end of us.”
“Sara.” He forced all the emotion and love he could into her name. “I told you. I was packing and I found it.”
“Why is it even here, Mike? You brought everything in this place six weeks ago when you came down for spring training. If this were your house, then maybe—maybe—I could see you stumbling across it.”
He glanced around, his gaze finally landing on the black Samsonite peeking from the bottom of the open closet. “It must have already been in a suitcase.”
“Right.” She leaned against the doorjamb, sending him a sad smile. “You’re not over her.”
“Come on.” He laughed. “Don’t tell me you never think about past relationships.”
“How often are we talking, Mike? Why do I get the feeling that every relationship you’ve had has ended this way? I know what I’m talking about—you’re not over her. You need to see her.”
“No. Nope.” His pulse sped just a bit at the idea. He hadn’t seen Meg in over six years. Six long years in which every relationship fizzled under the memory of what he’d thrown away.
But Sara was right about one thing—the two of them had been over for a while. Back in February he’d been eager to leave her in freezing Chicago and hightail it to sunny Arizona. Nothing but the team and baseball—until a week ago when she’d come down to stay with him over spring break. He rubbed his eyes, suddenly worn out and longing for sleep.
“Do you realize you’re still sitting on the bed? That your hand is still on her picture? You haven’t even bothered getting up to persuade me to stay.”
Wow. He studied the pattern of the carpet. No rebuttal came to mind.
But the thought of going back to his massive home and finding it empty of everything Sara was depressing. He forced himself to stand, his knees creaking, and walked across the bedroom to her.
She stayed where she was, her eyes on him.
He pulled her into his arms, and she let him, even though her arms stayed folded in front of her.
They really were done.
His throat tightened. There was so much he should say, but his voice would betray him. And what was he really emotional about this time? Was he sorry to see Sara go? Or just sorry th
at he’d be alone?
Again.
Sara sighed as she moved out of his arms and stepped around him.
He turned, watched her walk to the nightstand.
Her straight brown hair hung down her back in a thick, soft ponytail. She loved her hair, and he’d lied and told her he thought it was beautiful too.
But it was always dark, honey-blonde hair he loved. Meg’s long, wavy hair.
Sara pulled something from her planner and palmed it.
“What?” he asked. “You’ve got an ex-husband you’re going to show me?”
“Stop it. I want you to go see her.”
“This is dumb, Sara. I don’t even know where she is or what—”
She held out her hand. A business card rested in her palm.
Mike stared at the card. She had to be kidding. “No.”
“Take it, Mike.”
He couldn’t.
A moment later it was in his hands. Meghan Connor Designs. He read the raised lettering, his heart thudding inside him. This couldn’t be.
“She’s half an hour from you, Mike. From either home.”
Half an hour.
“She’s an interior designer. Another teacher recommended her when we looked into hiring someone. I hear she’s good.”
“She’s very good.”
“Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Well.”
Half an hour away? They’d been in Texas when they’d divorced, and she’d vanished so fast. He’d been traded to Chicago just over a year ago, fresh off another break-up, Meg on his mind.
For the last year she’d been half an hour away.
“I’ll get into O’Hare around six tonight. By the time you get back to Chicago on Sunday, I’ll be out of your place.” Sara picked up her things as she talked—a perfume bottle, her iPad, her flat iron, and makeup bag. She shoved them one after another into her carry-on, the first sign that this hurt. “I’ll mail you my keys. You’ll get them next week.”
Always on top of things. Always ready for anything. “Where will you go?”
“I guess I—” She stopped her stuffing and froze over the bag. Her ponytail slid over her shoulder and covered his view of her face.
He studied Meg’s business card.
A moment later she sniffed and zipped her bag closed.
Mike looked up.
She was wiping her nose.
She jabbed a finger at him. “You go see her. You find out if there’s anything left there. You hear me?”
“Sure.” Not likely.
“And after all that, if there’s nothing left between you two—” Three quick steps, and she was in his arms.
He held her while she shook against him.
But just as quickly, it was over and she pushed herself back. “If it ever really ends between you two, then you call me. Okay?”
“Okay.”
It wouldn’t happen. Sara was already his past. There was no going back.
He looked beyond her at the picture lying on the bed. Not even Meg would take him back.
Books by Sally Bradley
Kept—Can a woman with a messy past find love with a good man?
Chicago Wind
Homestands (book one)—A professional athlete stumbles across his ex-wife, the son she hid from him, and the rare opportunity to right his wrongs; but a secret from the past threatens their attempts to repair their shattered relationship.
About the Author
Sally Bradley has been a fiction lover for as long as she can remember—and has been fascinated by all things Chicago (except for the crime, politics, and traffic) for almost as long. A Chicagoan since age five, she now lives in the Kansas City area with her pastor/cop husband and their three children, but she and her family get back to Chicago when they can for good pizza and a White Sox game. A freelance editor and former president of her local writing chapter, Sally has won a handful of awards for her first book, Kept, and another, soon-to-be-released Shelf Life. Visit her online at sallybradley.com.
Taken: A Kept Novella Page 11
