by Jen Talty
The sparks from the fire rose toward the sky, burning out a few feet in the air. Quickly, Tristan made his way toward the fire, sitting down next to Brooke as Bella took off to find someone else to make her ‘just one more’.
He reached out, pressing his thumb against the corner of Brooke’s mouth, wiping some marshmallow off. He sucked his finger into his mouth. “That was good.” He leaned in, eyes locked on hers, his tongue parting her lips, gently entangling hers in a quick dance. “That was better.”
“I shouldn’t let you do that,” she whispered.
“I’m the only one you should let do that.” He pressed his mouth harder on her lips, deepening the kiss to the point where all he could hear in the background was the crackle of the fire and the beating of his heart. Cupping the back of her neck, he massaged gently before running his hand down her spine, feeling her body shiver as he found a small section of skin between her shorts and her top. “Only me.” With his other hand, he palmed her cheek, his tongue enjoying the sweet taste of Brooke mixed with chocolate and a dash of marshmallow.
She pulled back. “You’re trying to distract me because you found something in the wall.”
“A little bit, but I really wanted to kiss you.” He blinked, no reason to lie since she’d seen it on his face, and felt it in her heart. “A metal, floral box like the one we believe go to that key. I figured you’d want to wait until everyone left before opening it.” He adjusted her body between his legs, drawing her back against his chest, arms circling around her warm body. Jim and Doug had joined their wives in front of the fire while Ryan and Jared gathered all the children to be sent back to their house with a local babysitter.
“Beautiful night,” Stacey said, sitting in a chair, her arms folded over her swollen belly. Doug sat next to her, hand over hers.
“Thanks for letting us crash the party,” Ryan said as she plopped down on the ground. “I’m so glad there was a babysitter available.”
Looking around the bonfire, it was difficult for Tristan to not remember Tamara and wonder if she were still alive, how’d she fit in with this crowd.
“Caitlyn is almost old enough,” Jared said standing behind his wife. “But she’ll end up in an all-out brawl with her brothers while ignoring her baby sister, who would probably burn down the house trying to bake cookies.”
“I’m so glad I only had one.” Jim sat on the other side of Stacey, in a chair. Jillian between his legs with her arms draped over his knees.
“You’re daughter was a holy terror and makes my kids look like saints.” Jared laughed.
“My little girl a trouble maker?” Jim asked. “That’s putting it mildly.”
“You two better shut your traps because my grandparents have told me some pretty wicked stories about you two that I won’t hesitate to share.” Stacey tossed a twig at her father.
Tristan’s sister would have loved being here with this group of people.
Brooke squeezed his thighs, looking up at him, giving him a nod as if she could read his mind.
His breath hitched.
“I’ve got so many great stories,” Ryan said. “Do you know where Jared and my brother got caught—”
Jared bent over cupping his wife’s mouth. “Shall I bring another round?”
“Please,” Brooke said.
Tristan kissed her cheek. “Are you sure you don’t want everyone to leave? Just because they got a babysitter doesn’t mean they have to stay. They can go to the Mason Jug for a beer.”
“I’m having a good time. I’ll deal with the box later.”
Jared returned with a cooler full of beer and wine. The fire had settled down to a red-orange glow, which reminded Tristan of Brooke’s eyes.
“I know how all those guys met.” Brooke waved in the direction of Stacy and her family. “But I don’t know how you two met.” She pointed to Jared and his wife.
“I’ve known this clown my entire life,” Ryan said, patting Jared’s leg. “He was my brother’s best friend all through middle and high school.”
“The kid sister that always tagged along?” Brooke asked, her body completely relaxed against Tristan.
He ran his fingers through her soft hair, occasionally grazing the skin on her neck.
“Not even close, at least at first.” Jared laughed. “She was two and I was twelve the first time we met.”
“So, when did you get together?” Brooke asked. “Obviously it wasn’t right away.”
Laughter erupted around the campfire.
“I had just turned twenty-five and Jared decided he needed a change and took a job across the state. I figured if I could have him forever, I’d have him for one night, so I went about seducing him.”
“Two weeks later, she had me brainwashed and I’ve been wondering what the hell happened ever since.” Jared smiled like a big kid.
“I’ll tell you what happened.” Ryan tugged at Jared’s ear. “You finally came to your senses.”
Jared laughed. “Yes, dear.”
Tristan swallowed. Five years ago, he would have laughed off the idea of getting married and starting a family. Back then, his short-lived relationships had been fine and just the way he liked it, never letting anyone get too close. He knew Brooke had been right when she told him part of his problem with women had to do with his sister’s death, as weird as it sounded.
Not only could he see the connection these couples shared, but he felt the bond. It wasn’t the same kind of bond a twin has, which has a deeper tether, but nowhere near as intense as each of these couples had for one another.
He had never allowed anyone to get so deep inside his heart and mind. Not even Brenda, and he had loved her as much as one can love a person who doesn’t love them back.
He nuzzled his face in Brooke’s neck. Her skin smelled of coconut and honeysuckle.
“Do you hear that?” Jared asked. “That’s a fire truck.”
“Yeah it is.” Tristan kissed her neck, before pushing himself to a standing position. “Sounds close.”
“Check on the kids, babe,” Jared said as he stood and started walking toward the street. “It’s definitely coming this way.”
Tristan followed his boss to the front yard, noticing a few silhouettes standing in front of the Ramsworth Manor gate. He pointed. “Either they were sitting outside and are hearing the same thing we are. Or—”
“They decided to fuck with Brooke and call in our little legal bonfire in a pit that was built with a permit to be the assholes they are.”
The fire truck’s siren bleeped as it turned down Brooke’s street, a sheriff’s car right behind it.
“What a waste of resources,” Jared muttered. “You take the fire truck, I’ve got the local.”
Tristan looked over his shoulder. “Shocker. Stacey didn’t follow us out here.”
“Only because her father is here. I don’t think he’ll ever truly get past being held at gunpoint with his daughter.”
“That will fuck with a man.” Tristan strolled to the front of the fire truck, glad to see Cade jump from the passenger side. “What’s up?”
“You tell me.” Cade stood two feet away, hands on his hips and looked around. “We got a call there was a brush fire of some kind.”
“Try a bonfire.” Tristan pointed to the back yard. “You should join us for a beer.”
Cade laughed. “I wish. But you know the drill. I’ve got to check it out.”
“Be my guest.”
Tristan followed Cade to the back yard.
“Any idea who called it in?” Tristan asked.
“No idea, but I’ll check the log when I get back to the station.” Cade did a quick scan of the area. “Just curious, how big did that fire get?”
“No more than a foot tall and the pit is three feet in diameter. You could barely see it from Ramsworth Manor.”
“Those people are whack-a-doodles.” Cade laughed, waving his hand in the air like a whirly bird. “Carry on.”
Tristan stood on the s
ide of the house, eyes focused down the street. Brooke’s possible blood ties to the Ramsworth family could no longer sit on the back burner.
Brooke sat in the middle of her bed, the metal box between her crisscrossed legs. The old-fashioned key placed carefully next to her, sinking into the comforter.
Tristan stepped from the bathroom. He’d offered to leave her alone to go through the box. She almost told him to go home, but the idea of finding out her grandmother, the woman she’d bonded with more than her own mother, had an affair with a Ramsworth, or equally bad, stole from them, made her stomach churn in knots.
The bed shifted her weight as Tristan climbed in, sitting directly across from her. “Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Her fingers trembled. Her hand hovered over the key, but she couldn’t bring herself to touch it. “Sit next to me, please?”
“Sure thing.”
The bed shook, but for some reason it calmed her. Feeling his body’s heat so close to hers, gave her the courage to snag the key.
“What if this isn’t the right key?” she asked.
“Do you want me to do it?”
“No,” she said quickly.
The key fit perfectly in the hole and the box clicked open on the first twist. Her heart raced. With the lid raised an inch, she tried to peek in, but all she saw was darkness. Sucking in a breath, she pushed the lid so hard the box tumbled over, spilling a few of the contents.
“That’s one way to see what’s inside,” Tristan said.
She let out a dry laugh. “I used to think that relying on someone for strength like this meant you were weak. I mean, at least that’s the message I got from my grandparents and parents.”
“You misinterpreted what they were telling you.”
“How so?” She picked up a small maroon-velvet bag, fingering the contents.
“Your grandparents relied on each other for strength and support. I’m sure your parents did too. People who love…care deeply for one another, that’s what they do. Look at Doug and Stacey and what they went through when Doug had been accused of murder. They got through it because they had each other.”
She set the pouch on her leg, staring at it. “I’ve always prided myself on my independence.”
“So have I, maybe too much. Another reason why I’ve ended up single for so long.” He pressed his shoulder against hers. “You are one of the strongest, fiercest, women I have ever met. Wanting a friend during the shit storm that’s happening around you doesn’t make you weak. It makes you human.” He tilted her chin with his forefinger.
“Is that what we are? Friends?” Part of her wanted to prolong dealing with the box as long as possible, but the other part wanted—no needed— to define their relationship.
His lips sizzled against hers and his tongue probed inside her mouth with a tenderness that brought a tear to her eye. “Friendship is the basis of all great love affairs,” he whispered.
She bit down on her lower lip, stifling a laugh.
“Yeah, I know. I borrowed that one from your grandfather, but it’s true.”
“You somehow make me feel like no matter what, it’s all going to work out.” She cupped his face, puckering his lips before giving him a quick kiss. “First order of business.” She held up the pouch, tugging at the strings. Holding her breath, she shook the bag upside down.
A coin, the size of a silver dollar fell to the bed, along with a silver bracelet with a large circular pendant. “Wow.” Brooke lifted the coin, which seemed heavier than it should. Her fingers, tracing the lettering that had been etched over the same design the necklace she wore around her neck.
“My father’s name and date of birth.”
“Your name and I assume date of birth on this.” Tristan held the silver bracelet between his fingers. “Looks like someone wanted to acknowledge you as a Ramsworth.”
“Don’t ever say that again.” She glared at Tristan, squeezing the coin with all her might, hoping she’d magically snap it in half. “Even if this nightmare is true, I’ll always be a Fowler.”
“Point taken.” He gathered up a small notebook. “May I look inside?”
“I’ll do it.” The pages had yellowed and only a few of them had any written words on them.
She read the first page to herself.
I can’t believe I left Russell in the bassinet to talk to Wendell. But I didn’t want him to see the boy. Crazy. He’d see him eventually considering we are right down the street. But only in the summers. I know Rusty knows the truth, but I still can’t ask him to sell the house he’d worked so hard to buy. Also, I think for my Rusty, it’s a form of revenge.
Wendell stopped by to drop off two things. A necklace for me. Like I’d ever wear it. But he said it should be passed down to whoever MY son married. At least he didn’t try to call the boy his own.
The second item was a collector’s coin. I think the only reason I accepted them was if I needed to get his bitch of a wife off me, or maybe hock them someday.
“It would appear my grandmother and the original Wendell did indeed have an affair and my father was the result. Worse, my grandfather knew.”
Tristan’s arm looped around her shoulder. “Biology doesn’t make you one of them.”
“That statement I will agree with.” She turned her attention back to the book.
Next page:
It’s been YEARS since Wendell has shown his face anywhere near me and my family, though his bitch of a wife keeps trying to take me down. Never going to happen because I have something she doesn’t.
I have true love.
Today, Wendell gave me money for Russell’s graduation to help with college. Ten grand. Barely enough to do anything with and really, I didn’t want to take it, but somedays I can be a bitch. Will I spend it? Not unless someone is dying.
“Look for a wad of money.” Brooke really didn’t think there’d be a stash of large bills, but it would be nice if there were.
Tristan dumped the rest of the contents on the bed. “Well, I’ll be damned. Two large stacks of cash.” He tossed two white envelops in her lap.
“Holy fuck.”
“How’d you know there’d be money?”
She tapped the notebook, showing him the words before flipping the page. “Two more entries.”
The nerve of that man to show up after the birth of MY granddaughter. This time I told him to take whatever he was offering and leave, but he said he had a bracelet for Brooke and a request. He wants me to, when she was old enough, to give her the pendant and this bracelet. He’s nuts. No way in hell would I do that. I have half a mind to send Georgina the stupid necklace. She hasn’t shut up about it missing for years.
Final entry:
I did the one thing I swore I’d never do, and that’s contact Wendell. But I can’t have him or anyone in his family showing up at MY son and his beautiful wife’s funeral. I begged him not to send flowers or even a donation of any kind, anywhere in their name. Wendell, the bastard offered to pay for the funeral. He tried to fake cry. He doesn’t even love the son he adopted. Thankfully, Wendell adhered to my wishes. Now I just have to keep him the hell away from Brooke.
“What the heck?” Brooke re-read the entire paragraph. “Did you know the middle Wendell was adopted?”
“Someone might have mentioned it.”
“I had no idea,” Brooke said. “Anything else in the box?”
“One more envelope, addressed to you.”
She glanced at the paper in Tristan’s hands. “That’s my grandfather’s handwriting.” All the notes and lies had gotten under her skin. She hugged herself. “Read it for me, please?”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded, leaning back against the headboard and closed her eyes.
“Dear Brooke. If you are reading this, then I’m waiting for you on the flip side and you found our family’s skeleton in the closet. I told you every family had one.”
Tristan rested his hand on her thigh.
Brooke swallowed a sob. “I remember him sitting on the sofa, the pendant in his hands. He’d been deep in thought and hadn’t even heard me come in.” The memory so vivid, she could smell her grandfather’s pine cologne.
Brooke fingered the locket. “Help me take this thing off.” She leaned forward, bile rising to her throat. The day her grandfather gave it to her, she’d pushed, desperate to have one thing of her grandmother’s she could have with her at all times. Something to keep that bond strong and alive.
“Are you sure you want to do that?”
Taking the damn necklace off was about the only thing she was sure about. Tristan’s fingers tingled the skin on her neck. He easily undid the clasp before resting it in her hand.
“Keep reading, okay?”
“Not much left.” Tristan cleared his throat.
“I’m hiding the box with all its contents in the wall. Well, except the original note about the necklace. I needed you to know the truth. I worry that someday someone in that family will see it and go after you. The note at least explains it. I’m still contemplating about telling you where this box is, only because I know you, and I know you don’t want any of this, so for now, it’s all hidden away. The important thing is that you’re our granddaughter and we love you with every fiber of our being. Stay strong. I’m hoping that I’ve either had the chance to introduce you to your perfect match, or that you’ve managed to meet him on your own. Once you figure out he’s for you, you’ll understand why it was so easy for me to be the best and only father to your dad. I was very proud of the man he became and am enjoying the woman you are growing into. Call my friend. His card is tacked on grandma’s board. I’m torturing her with how I tacked it. Love, Grandpa.”
