Forsaken Trail

by Devney Perry

  “Then it’s agreed.” She gave me a smug grin. “A year. And a limit.”

  “A year,” I conceded. “And a limit. But items for the baby don’t count.”

  “Agreed.” She nodded and snuggled deeper, then drifted off to sleep.

  I waited for an hour or so, watching before slipping out of the room. When I went to my office, it was no surprise to find Clara there. She’d canceled my last meeting of the day and rescheduled those I’d missed.

  “I’m just about done here,” she said. “I need to get August from preschool. Do you need anything before I go?”

  “No. I’m not doing much.” My concentration was shit and I wanted to be close when Aria woke up. “I’m not working tomorrow. Or Sunday. You should take them off too.”

  “That’s the plan. I’ve got a date with my main man for a bike ride and picnic.”

  August was a lucky kid to have her as a mom. And my child would be lucky to have her as an aunt.

  “I’m not good with sentiment.”

  “Really?” she deadpanned.

  “Your sarcasm has really blossomed since Aria moved here.”

  She laughed. “What can I say? She brings out the best in people.”

  “She really does. I just . . . I wanted you to know that you don’t owe me anything. For the house here or anything. I didn’t buy them out of charity. I don’t want you to feel obligated or indebted or—”

  “Brody.” She cut me off and smiled. “I know. This isn’t necessary.”

  “You work hard.”

  “I’m grateful for all you’ve done for August and me. But that’s not why I work hard.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I promise.”

  I sighed. “I’m glad I’ll have you as my sister.”

  Her eyebrows rose. “Sister?”

  “If she’ll have me.”

  Clara rushed me for a hug. It was short but strong, and when she stepped back, she pressed a hand to her heart as her eyes lit up. “Thank you for loving Aria.”

  “I will until the day I die.”

  “I know.” Tears flooded her eyes as she waved goodbye, leaving me alone in the office.

  After an hour of returning emails, I went to see if Aria was still asleep, but when I walked into the room, the bed was empty and the patio doors open.

  “There you are.” I found her wrapped in a blanket, standing beside the pool. Her eyes were cast to the horizon. “What are you doing out here?”

  The sun was slowly setting and the temperature dropping. Even though it was spring, the nights were cool.

  “I like the sunsets here.” She leaned into my side. “In a way, they remind me of the sunsets we used to watch at the junkyard. When you don’t have TV or video games or smart phones, you look to the world for something to watch. I’ve missed that since leaving. I haven’t appreciated the world enough.”

  I guess that was true for all of us. So we stood together, watching as the colors shifted. When a layer of orange coated the sky, I dug the ring that I’d pulled from the safe earlier out of my pocket.

  “Aria Saint-James?”

  “Yes, Brody Carmichael?”

  I grinned and turned her to face me. Then I dropped to a knee, the ring in hand. “Marry me.”

  “W-what?” She did a double take at the five-carat Harry Winston.

  “Will you marry me?”

  “Seriously? You just promised two hours ago not to buy me anything for a year.”

  “I said anything new. This isn’t new. I’ve had it for a week.”

  She blinked. “You have?”

  “Can we focus, please? I asked you a question.”

  “I kind of like seeing you on your knees.”

  I shook my head and the ring. “You’re impossible.”

  “Someone has to keep your ego in check.”

  I chuckled. “You’re doing a damn fine job at the moment. You’re shredding it to pieces here, baby.”

  “We can’t have that.” She touched a fingertip to the ring and smiled. “Yes. I’ll marry you.”

  I surged to my feet and sealed it, crushing her to my chest as I swept my tongue into her mouth. Mine. She was mine. From now until forever, the one thing in this world not for sale was the best gift of my life.

  She laughed, breaking the kiss. “That ring is too big.”

  “You’ll get used to it.”

  Aria leaned into me. “I love you.”

  “I love you too.” I kept her in my arms as we faced the sunset again. “What do you think? Want to stay in Arizona? Or go back to Oregon?”

  “Arizona is growing on me. And besides, it’s where the Cadillac brought me.”

  “So?”

  She tipped her chin up and smiled. “You can’t argue with that Cadillac.”

  Epilogue

  Aria

  Three months later . . .

  “Drive safely.”

  Clara nodded and slammed the trunk of the Cadillac. “I will.”

  August was buckled into his car seat, his legs bouncing wildly as he waited for them to get on the road.

  “Call when you get to Phoenix.” I pulled her in for a hug.

  “Okay. We’re going to swim and relax tonight. Then Elyria tomorrow.” Her voice shook as she clutched me tight.

  “Are you sure about this?”

  She let me go and squared her shoulders. “I need to do this. And it’s my turn in the Cadillac.”

  The car gleamed cherry red under the bright and beautiful Arizona sun. I’d miss it. That car had brought me to the home I hadn’t realized I’d needed.

  “Be careful,” Brody told her.

  “We will.” Clara stepped closer, giving him a sideways hug as she touched the baby’s foot. “You two try and rest. I know it’s hard when they are so little. Take naps whenever you can.”

  Here she was worried about Brody, me and our five-day-old newborn son. We’d be fine. Tired, but fine. It was her I was worried about.

  Clara had finally planned her trip to California. She’d waited until the baby was born and probably would have waited longer, but with August on summer break, it made sense for her to go while things at work were quiet. Brody’s paternity leave meant Clara wasn’t needed in the office all day.

  And when she’d asked Brody for a week off, he’d encouraged her to go. We both had. My sister needed this trip, not only for a vacation with her son, but also because the longer she waited, the longer the car sat in her garage, the more anxious she became.

  After twelve years away, Clara was facing old demons. At least she’d have August, her little pillar of strength, with her on the way. And the car. There was courage in that car.

  The Cadillac was finally returning to California.

  To Karson.

  “We’ll be back soon.” She forced a smile and went to the driver’s side door. She patted her pocket where she’d tucked a note with Karson’s address.

  Years ago, before she’d started her own journey in the Cadillac, Gemma had hired a private investigator to track all of us from the junkyard down. When we’d had our latest book club virtual chat, she’d told us that she’d had the PI confirm Karson’s address, not wanting to send Clara to the wrong place. It was a good thing too since Karson had moved to a new town.

  Elyria, California. A small town on the coast known for its surfing and loving community. Elyria.

  All of us—Londyn, Gemma, Katherine, me—were excited for Clara. Karson had been the glue who’d held us together at the junkyard. He’d discovered it, made it a home, and kept that home safe for the rest of us. If he wasn’t doing well, if his life had fallen apart . . .

  It would break our hearts.

  Clara’s especially.

  I’d cautioned her to expect anything, to be prepared for the worst, but she’d insisted it would be fine. She was eager to see him for herself.

  “Bye.” She pulled me into one last hug, then got in the Cadillac.

  My heart crept into my throat as the en
gine rumbled to a start and the wheels inched forward, picking up speed as she drove down the lane.

  “She’ll be okay.” Brody put his free arm around my shoulders and tucked me into his side.

  “I hope so.” As the Cadillac disappeared, I leaned into Brody’s strong body, using it for support. And yawned.

  “What about Danny?” he asked.

  “Boring.” I yawned again.

  “What about Adl—”

  “If you suggest Adler one more time, I’m going to the courthouse tomorrow and putting Parry, with an a, on his birth certificate.”

  Brody frowned and let me go. Then he retreated with the baby into the house, passing the plethora of plants I’d added to the entryway. After some paint and colorful toss pillows and throws, this concrete house was coming to life. He carried the baby into the bedroom and carefully set him in the cradle at the foot of our bed.

  “He’s five days old,” he said. “My son needs a name. Adler’s not that bad.”

  “Look at him.” I tossed up a hand. “Does he look like an Adler?”

  The name made me cringe. Probably because Brody kept suggesting it. If I actually thought he loved the name and was paying homage to his late grandfather, I would have caved. But even he didn’t like it much. It was just at the top of his mind.

  Much like Parry, with an a.

  Neither of them was the right name. None of the countless other options we’d debated were either. The baby name book that rested on my nightstand had a hundred pages dog-eared, but no matter what we threw out there, nothing fit.

  Our son had arrived five days ago after thirteen hours of labor. He had gray eyes that I hoped would become Brody’s green. He had a mat of dark hair and the cutest nose on earth. He was the center of our universe.

  And damn it, he had to have the perfect name.

  “Come on.” Brody took my hand and pulled me to the bed. “We’re exhausted. Let’s just . . . lie down for a few minutes.”

  “Why does he only sleep during the day?” I collapsed onto the mattress.

  Brody did the same, facing me as we both relaxed into our pillows. He stretched one hand across the tiny space between us and took mine, bringing it to his lips before closing his eyes.

  The black T-shirt stretched across his broad chest was fresh, as were his gray sweats. It wasn’t entirely fair that he looked gorgeous after a ten-minute shower. Meanwhile I’d taken a thirty-minute bath and blow-dried my hair in an attempt to feel human again but still looked like I’d been trampled over by a herd of dirty zebras.

  “Brody?”

  “Hmm.”

  “I love you.”

  “I love you too, baby.” Those words never got old. “Rest.”

  I closed my eyes but my mind refused to shut down. This was the most exhausted I’d ever been in my life, but there was daylight beyond the blinds and my brain wouldn’t shut the hell up.

  Name. We needed a name.

  What kind of mother couldn’t think of a name for her baby? We’d run through the entire list of family names on Brody’s side and mine. None fit. Clara had already named August after our dad so that wasn’t an option.

  Why couldn’t we come up with something? Why wasn’t it bothering Brody more? Didn’t he care about our baby? Didn’t he want to get this right? Clearly not if he could just lie there and fall asleep in five seconds flat.

  “Brody.”

  He didn’t stir.

  “Brody.”

  Nothing.

  “Brody.” I yanked my hand from his grip and poked him in the ribs.

  He gasped awake, snapping up to look at the baby. “What? What’s wrong?”

  “We need a name.”

  He groaned and face-planted into his pillow. “Aria, he doesn’t need a name this second.”

  “What kind of parents are we that we can’t give him a name?”

  “The indecisive kind.” Brody reached for me, inching close. Then with my hand firmly in his once more, he held it to his heart. “We’re the kind of parents who love him so much that we’re not rushing a decision he’ll live with his entire life.”

  I sighed. “I hate it when you win our fights.”

  “Were we fighting?”

  “In my head.”

  He chuckled and scooched close to kiss my forehead. “Sleep. I don’t want you worn out.”

  “Too late.”

  “Close your eyes.” The command was meant for me, but he obeyed it himself. Those eyelashes fluttered shut.

  I counted sixty-three sheep and still hadn’t drifted off. “Brody.”

  He answered with a snore.

  “Brody,” I whispered.

  Brody.

  Like the man, I loved the name. It was pretentious and arrogant. It fit him perfectly because he was both of those things. And loving. Generous. Kind.

  Never in my life had I felt so cherished than when I was with my husband.

  Brody and I were married not long after he’d proposed. We didn’t invite anyone but Clara and Marty. August was Brody’s best man. Ron, a man who never stopped surprising me with his hidden talents, performed the ceremony on the patio at sunset.

  No fuss. No party. No expenses besides my dress, and since Brody hadn’t been able to buy it for me thanks to our purchasing armistice, I’d bought it myself. A long-sleeve, ivory tulle gown with lace on the bodice and wrists. The empire waist had showcased my belly, not hidden it away. Three hundred bucks and a floral arrangement from my own shop.

  With the sunset at our backs and Brody impeccable in a tux, it was the second most special day of my life, eclipsed only by the day our son was born.

  Brody.

  That was his name. Brody. After a father who had been fighting for him since the beginning. After a father who’d rather die than miss a day of his life. After a father who loved him and his mother with every beat of his heart.

  “Brody.” I poked him again.

  This time he just opened his eyes and glared. “Sleep.”

  “I want to name him Brody, after you.”

  He blinked, coming awake and shoving up to his elbow. “After me?”

  “Yes. Brody Carmichael Jr.”

  “Actually. He’d be the third. Dad’s name was Broderick.”

  “It was?”

  He nodded and yawned. “His family might not be as wealthy, but they are just as pretentious.”

  Brody didn’t speak much of his parents. Of any of his family, really. Alastair hadn’t contacted him once, not even bothering to reply to Brody’s email that we’d gotten married. Coreen had done her best to disown Brody and would have if not for business. She was still throwing a tantrum and making threats to sell Carmichael Communications, but Brody had called her bluff and she hadn’t had the gall to see it through.

  He was simply enduring her fits until his birthday this fall.

  Then he would be free.

  Once he was in control of Carmichael Communications, he’d pursue the best deal possible to sell the company. There were already options being discussed in secret, but at the moment, everything work related was on pause while we adjusted to life as parents.

  “Brody Carmichael the Third.” I smiled at the rush of adrenaline that shot through my veins. Brody Carmichael the Third. “I don’t hate it.”

  “Me neither.” He grinned. “We could call him Trace.”

  “For the Third.” Yes. Yes. Yes. “That’s it. Trace.”

  “Trace.” Brody’s smile widened. “We’ll go to the courthouse tomorrow. Now will you go to sleep?”

  “Yes, sir.” I closed my eyes and snuggled into his arms. Thirty seconds later, a whimper came from the cradle. The baby was hungry. Nap time was over.

  So Brody and I both roused.

  And introduced our son to his name.

  The Runaway series concludes with Dotted Lines.

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  Dotted Lines

  Clara Saint-Ja
mes is completing a journey started by an old friend. She’ll return a Cadillac to California, a place she’s avoided for more than a decade. But it’s time for closure and to put old ghosts to rest. And it’s time to find out if the feelings she’s cherished for the boy from her past are just fanciful memories—or if there’s a chance they are real.

  Timing was never on her side, especially when it came to Karson Avery. The two of them lived in a junkyard as runaway teens, and though she wanted more than his friendship, he always belonged to another—until that one night when he was hers.

  When Clara finds Karson living in a small, coastal town, she’s not surprised the beautiful boy from her past grew into a stunning man. His smile is as captivating as ever. His eyes have the same roguish glint. But timing is still working against her.

  Clara must decide how far she’s willing to go to battle for Karson’s heart. Or if it’s time to let him go and surrender to the dotted lines that have always kept them apart.

  Order Dotted Lines

  Acknowledgments

  Thank you for reading Forsaken Trail! This series is such a joy for me to write and I am so grateful for my readers.

  * * *

  Special thanks to my editing and proofreading team: Elizabeth Nover, Julie Deaton, Karen Lawson and Judy Zweifel. Thank you to Sarah Hansen for the cover. Thanks to my agent, Kimberly, and the team at Brower Literary. And my publicist, Nina, and the team at Valentine PR.

  * * *

  A massive thanks to Perry Street for your love and support. I couldn’t have dreamed up a better reader group. Thank you to the incredible bloggers who read and help me with promoting new books. I am so grateful for all the work you do to support me and the romance community.

  * * *

  And lastly, to my friends and family. Thank you!

  About the Author

  Devney is a USA Today bestselling author who lives in Washington with her husband and two sons. Born and raised in Montana, she loves writing books set in her treasured home state. After working in the technology industry for nearly a decade, she abandoned conference calls and project schedules to enjoy a slower pace at home with her family. Writing one book, let alone many, was not something she ever expected to do. But now that she’s discovered her true passion for writing romance, she has no plans to ever stop.