Bad Boy Brody(67)

The thought that he had . . .

I eyed the bottle of bourbon on the wall behind the bar. That’d go down real smooth.

Her head lifted. She looked so tired, but she’d never looked so strong. I could see why my brother fell in love with her. She’d been the rock of their relationship, not him.

She said, “I know that’s why you called today. Or, I guessed. Your old publicist was a bitch. She never said anything outright, but she hinted that he took his own life. I saw the same interviews you did, and I know you sent her a cease and desist, but she still put that out there.”

A few interviews too late. A few phone calls too late.

Shelby shouldn’t have even had the opportunity to do any interviews, but I hadn’t been thinking. I’d been wallowing. I’d been drinking.

I was mourning.

“About that, I’m sorr—”

“No.” She leaned forward, her hand resting on mine. “It’s not true. I want you to know that. I didn’t know for sure if that’s what you were questioning, but when you called earlier, I just had this certainty. Your brother did not kill himself. He loved you. He loved us. He loved life, and he was so goddamn proud of you. You have no idea how much life was bursting out of him when he left to go to your premiere.”

I didn’t have any words. The relief inside—I believed her.

I could almost imagine Kyle snorting, saying, “About fucking time. Ass.”

“Thank you, Cheryl.” I drew in a ragged breath. I felt some of the storm in me start to settle, and just like that, I wanted Morgan here. I wanted her next to me. She would’ve held my hand under the table. She would’ve realized it was too hard for me to speak, and she would’ve started a conversation with Cheryl for me, because that’s what my sister-in-law needed.

She needed to hear the words back, that I believed her. That Kyle wouldn’t have done what some greedy bitch had insinuated, but she didn’t understand.

I was ashamed.

As soon as I accepted her words, a new wave of guilt came with it. I should’ve believed it from the day one, from when the accident happened.

I hadn’t. I let the doubt sink in.

Cheryl didn’t make a sound, not one whimper, but her hand lifted to wipe at a tear.

Fuck’s sake.

I should’ve been around more. I should’ve called more, stopped by her house to check in, helped more with the actual funeral instead of just paying for everything. Kyle had money. I knew Cheryl and the girls would be taken care of, but I had more. It was one way I could help without having to see the evidence that he was really gone.

I felt daggers sliding down my throat.

This was why he’d been haunting me. I hadn’t stepped up.

“I’m sorry for not being here more.”

Her head moved left to right, but she didn’t look up. “No, it’s fine. We grieve differently.”

I reached over and grasped her hand. “My brother loved you, and he was loved. He was happy with you. You made him happy.”

Morgan was right.

This was why I came back to Los Angeles. I needed closure, and I needed to step up, be there for Cheryl and his family now that he was gone.

Fuck Shanna and her script change, but I was thankful in this small moment.

After that, we talked. I was told everything amazing that happened to Alisma and Ambrea. They were in gymnastics, but now they wanted to play tennis. Cheryl smiled so wide as she talked about their tennis games. Alisma wouldn’t sit still at the events, and Ambrea kept wanting to bring their pet rabbit with them.

By the end of the night, my stomach hurt from laughing. My cheeks hurt from smiling.

It felt good to talk about him. Damned good.

“Last call, folks.” The server paused, looking between us.

Cheryl shook her head. “Goodness. I’m drunk. I haven’t been like this for a long time.”

I said to the server, “I’ll take the bill.”

“No, no, Bro—” Cheryl started protesting.

The server walked away, already knowing it was pointless. I was paying, and that was it.

“It’s my job to help you guys out.”

Cheryl started to shake her head.

“I mean it, Cheryl. I’ll feel like I’m still helping Kyle in some way.”

Knowing she couldn’t argue with that, the fight left her.

After paying the bill, we were walking out as I asked, “You want a ride home?” I started to gesture to where my bike was when the camera flashes started.

“Brody!”

“Brody, smile!”

Paparazzi.

They were everywhere, swarming us around the sidewalk.

I didn’t think. I threw an arm around Cheryl’s shoulders and pulled her with me to my bike. I had parked it down the road.

“Brody, isn’t that your brother’s widow?”

“Are you two together now?”

“Brody, are you cheating on Morgan?”

That stopped me, and I whirled around.

The fucker was right behind me and raised his camera, blinding me with the flash of his camera.

Fuck. That’d be in all the papers tomorrow.

“Brody.” Cheryl tugged on my arm. “Come on.”

We got to my bike. I handed Cheryl the helmet and then swung my leg over the seat. After I knocked the kickstand back with my heel, I held the bike steady as she climbed on behind me.