Page 22 of When the Storm Breaks
“What’s the deal with Ridge?”
He let out a weary sigh. “My seventeen-year-old brother is doing his damnedest to get kicked out of school. I have no intention of letting that happen. I just need to find a way to get through to him.”
“Does he like working with horses?”
“Nope. Not interested.”
“What were you like at seventeen?”
Brody laughed to himself and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was a train wreck. Spent most of my time getting drunk and stoned, fighting, and screwing.”
Somehow, that didn’t surprise me but right now he seemed so calm and at peace with himself. “And now?”
“Now I’m older but none the wiser. How about you? What were you like at seventeen?”
“Train wreck is pretty accurate. My Maw Maw died a few months before I turned seventeen and it really hit me hard. My brother Landry is three years older and it was left to him to look after me.”
“You didn’t have any other family?”
I shook my head. “My mom died when I was a baby, so I never really knew her. My dad checked out after... she died,” I finished. “He just up and left, never to be heard from again. Until our band hit it big.”
“He looked you up?”
I huffed out a laugh. “Yeah. Came to us with a whole sob story about how his manager screwed him out of money and his record label dropped him. Tried to hit us up for money. He’s a washed-up country singer. Hasn’t had a hit song in over fifteen years. I guess he thought we were the answer to his prayers and could help him revive his career.” It still stung that he’d had no interest in his kids beyond what we could do for him.
“Asshole. I hope you kicked him to the curb. Deadbeat dads don’t deserve the time of day. You don’t owe him your loyalty or your money.”
“I know. I just... I wanted to believe that he actually cared, you know? That he wasn’t using us. But if he ever cared, he wouldn’t have left us in the first place.” When Landry was thirteen, he told Maw Maw he wanted to change our last name to Leroux, our mom’s maiden name. Six months later, we went to a lawyer and had our name legally changed from Holloway to Leroux, officially cutting ties with Rhett Holloway, the man who had no interest in being a father.
“What about your parents?” I asked Brody. “Are you close?”
“They’re both dead.” His voice was flat.
“I’m sorry.”
He shook his head. “Don’t be. My aunt and uncle raised me like one of their own. And I’ve got three cousins who are like brothers to me.”
“And Ridge...”
“Turned up a few months ago. I didn’t even know he existed. I hadn’t seen my mom since I was thirteen.”
“How old are you now?”
“Thirty-tree last month. How old are you?”
“I was twenty-five in December.”
He nodded and squinted into the distance. Brody had these little lines around his eyes from squinting into the sun that I found ridiculously sexy.
“I saw you once. You must have been sixteen. You were playing in a dive bar in Lafayette.” His jaw clenched, and he flexed his right hand. “Saw you after the show when I was coming out of the men’s room and some asshole was all over you.” He turned his head to look at me. “You remember that?”
My breath caught. “That was you...”
“That was me alright.”
“You pack a mean punch, Cowboy.” I gave him a little slug on the arm, trying to make light of it, to ease some of the tension I felt coming off him.
“Did that kind of thing happen a lot?”
