Chestnut Ridge
Kershaw Ranch
Standing by the fence, a fairly new addition to Jackson’s ranch after some other ranchers had issues losing horses to predators, two and four-legged ones, a fence I had helped build. I felt like somehow this had canonized me forever on this old ranch, which has been here longer than I have been alive and would be here long after I am gone. Now I was forever part of it. Somehow it underlined the feelings of melancholy I had been dealing with. But also a feeling of belonging.
Arms wrapping around me from behind startled me a little, but the lips nuzzling my cheek more than made up for it.
“Hey slacker …” Jackson drawled, making me giggle, and pull away a little so I could turn around to face him, without him ever letting go of me.
“I finished all my chores, big boss man,” I told him, making him snicker.
“Boss? Ha. And all of them? Well, I reckon I could think of one more thing for ya to do…” The glimmer in his eyes hinted at mischief, but I playfully tipped his nose when he leaned in for another kiss, pointing behind him.
“Raincheck. Storm’s brewing again.”
He left one arm wrapped around my waist, half-turning to watch the approaching riders. I’d been here long enough to read the mood of local visitors by the way they rode up—this was no casual visit. Drama or bad news, take your pick. Oh yay.
Ahanu Graywolf and his son Chayton, Jackson’s best friend, rode up closer, dismounting with the smoothness only they possessed. Their horses hadn’t even fully stopped before they stepped up, offering a brief greeting. Other riders, some familiar faces, lingered further back.
“Got a cougar in the area. McDaniels got mauled trying to protect his herd. Doesn’t look good for him. Carter and his wife are being taken to the hospital in San Sequoia; their son’s being seen now. We need to find that animal and put a stop to it.”
My eyes widened. Excuse me, what? A what now? I didn’t even realize cougars were a thing in this place, and if I had to worry about those, I always assumed they would be two-legged ones after my handsome boyfriend.
Jackson nodded, his arm slipping from around my waist as he started toward the house.
“Jackson…” I held on to him, and he turned, kissing me briefly.
“You stay here, grab Millie, and hunker down in the house. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He rushed off with determined strides. I stared at Ahanu and Chayton, then sprinted after Jackson, finding him inside, loading his shotgun.
“Please don’t go. It sounds super-dangerous.”
“I’ll be fine. Not my first time doin’ this. You do what I said, ya hear? Today, I’m telling you what to do, normally I wouldn’t, ya know that, so if I do, you gotta listen. Stay put.”
“But I can ride well. I can help… spot it.” I made up my mind on the spot. I didn’t want to chase down a big cat that had already attacked people I knew, but I REALLY didn’t want Jackson to go alone. No talking him out of this.
He bent down, kissing me.
“Darlin’, this ain’t your kinda rodeo, trust me. Whatever goes down, it’s gonna be messier than a hog in a mud puddle. You gotta stay put right here. I’m saddlin’ up Patches—Blaze done lost a shoe, and Patches, well, Patches is young, ornery, got a temper hotter than a firepit in a Chestnut Ridge summer. I can’t watch the environment, a stubborn young horse and make sure y’all are okay out there in the wild terrain with an angry big cat on the loose. I need to know yer safe. Can ya do me that favor?”
“Jackson, please be safe and come back home. In one piece! I need you, baby …” I whispered, my heart pounding.
“Yes Ma’am, I’ll do mah best,” he tipped his hat, then vanished out the door. I stood in the doorway, watching him mount up. Someone had already saddled Patches for him—evidently, they all just ‘knew things,’ except me, always blissfully ignorant until instructed. Sigh. The commands echoed, and the horses stampeded off, leaving me feeling like one of those women from 1950s westerns.
With a deep sigh, I called for Millie, and shockingly, she even came. I ushered the dog inside, double-checked the gate for the horses, then retreated indoors myself, gnawing on my fingernails. Not my usual habit, but I was wound up tight now, worried.
And I had every right to be, as it turned out. I’ll spare you the harrowing details—the long, fearful hours after Ahanu and Chay brought me back a bloody Jackson. His clothing was torn, and he groaned in pain, trying hard not to reveal how much it hurt. They’d found the cougar, now considered a maneater, and it had to be put down. In the attempt, it attacked the group of hunters. Jackson, ever the hero, tried to help one of his riding mates under attack and ended injured himself. That damn big cat nearly shredded an artery! I mean, I feared those rodeos Jackson insisted on, but this? After months of happiness here, with occasional pangs for my childhood home, now this? Cougars now too? I had finally wrapped my head around the damn coyotes creeping around and that the snake I nearly stepped on the other day was actually poisonous. Now frigging cougars too! Four-legged ones? ARGH! Whoever had come here and deemed it a good place to live?! Oh, right, I guess I kinda did. Hm.
Well, I was a hysterically sobbing mess and did what anyone with my background would: I called my parents, and they pulled strings. Being wealthy and from a long line of celebrities has its perks, and I didn’t even care right now. They arranged an airlift for my boyfriend to the nearest specialized hospital. Yup, that would be in San Sequoia and guess who works there?
San Sequoia
Sequoia Medical Institute
So, here I was, one MedAir flight later—still a sobbing and inconsolable mess. My brother Connor, Chief of Staff at said hospital, took over Jackson’s care as his attending physician in an attempt to comfort me knowing he would do all he could for him, he even spearheaded the emergency surgery, clearly bending over backwards to help Jackson and me, none of which I could fully appreciate, as I was a mess. Jackson’s surgery went like textbook, he was recovering well with a good prognosis, and I was nearly impossible to move away from his bedside, but for the few moments each day that I did, over the following days Connor and his wife Keira took turns sitting with Jackson, who stubbornly insisted he was ‘fine’ and kept wanting to go home. If you could see him, you would know he looked everything but fine. He looked as if he had been hit by a freight train, black and blue and scratched up all over, including part of his face. The exact opposite of ‘fine’. His dad, Jack, even flew in from Henfordshire; and once he had recovered from the long flight and jetlag, Jack began to shuttle between San Sequoia to spend time with his badly injured and recovering son, and the Chestnut Ridge ranch to look after the horses and Millie, to give Jackson some peace of mind.
Keira, my sister-in-law, had kicked me out of Jackson’s room once again so I could get some air, stretch my legs, and grab something to eat while she sat with him. As I stood in the hallway, dizzy from worry—and also from having slept with my butt in a chair and my top twisted to lay with my head on the bed next to Jackson, pretending we were in bed together—Connor appeared.
“Oh, Bri, I was just coming to find you. I need to speak to you in private.”
Wide awake, eyes wide open, I stared at my big brother.
“Oh my God! What’s wrong? Is it an infection? Is Jackson going to fall into a coma?! He’s not gonna die, is he? He looks better, has some color! I thought he was improving!” I went into a full-on panic.
“BRI! STOP!” Connor halted my flood of fears. “It’s not about Jackson. He’s fine, all things considered.”
“Oh. Okay.” I calmed, only to panic again. “OMG, did you get the results!? Is it bad? Please, not again! Am I going to die? It’s not the other one now too, is it?!”
“What?! Bri, what are you even talking about?”
“My results! What are YOU talking about?”
“What results?”
“The gyn test thingy for my cyst problem, of course. I’m supposed to have checks every six months, but I kinda skipped a few. Thought you were on top of that.”
“Seriously? How am I supposed to be on top of that when you have been living on the opposite side of the country until recently!? You’re an adult, Bri, and I am not your daddy! You KNOW you have to keep up, Bri! Goddamn girl! But at least you finally got that checked. Jeez, like dealing with a toddler!”
“Well, I did it now, didn’t I? So, if it’s not about Jackson or that, what’s so urgent? Are you okay? You look okay. Is it Chris? It’s not Iris, is it? Oh gawd, did she have an accident? It’s not Jas, my poor Jas! Not Jasper!”
“QUIT GUESSING! And quit freaking out. Come with me.” He pulled me through a door marked “Authorized Staff Only,” using a keycard. We entered a private room.
“So, I just got off the phone with Mom…” was as far as he got.
“OH MY GOD! Are they okay?! Please don’t tell me they had a car accident!”
“BRI! Can I please talk!? This isn’t a game show, and if it were, you’d have been disqualified!”
“Well, then talk already. Why do you drag it out so much?”
My poor brother probably scraped up every last bit of his patience to roll his eyes but not snap at me. He knew I was tired, worried, and way out of my comfort zone.
“They sold the house,” he stated.
“The house? What house?”
“Well, the only one they’ve got. Or had.”
“That’s not funny! You suck!”
“Not supposed to be funny, and thanks.”
“No. Noooooo. No way. Nope. They would NEVER! That’s our childhood home. All my stuff is there, our memories. So many memories… No way would they just do that. Nope.”
“Okay, well, you can ask them yourself. They’ll be here tomorrow afternoon. Lucky us, Keira and I are having even more houseguests until they find a new place. Jack is obviously staying with us. You are too, kinda—whenever Keke or I can pry your stubborn self away from here to shower at least. And now we also got Mom and Dad bunking with us. They’ve got some open houses lined up and are working with a realtor. I have a feeling I’ll be spending what little spare time my job leaves me between sitting with Jackson and house hunting with our parents. I mean, why would I want to go home and spend time with my family, right? My poor kid won’t remember what I look like anymore. Iris and Jas were gonna come too when they heard about Jackson, but are swamped with exams and prep, so they had to stay their asses back at campus, thank God. Mom and dad forbade them to text or call you, knowing how you are already one wrong word away from being committed to a padded room for a month.”
“Huh? Wait, what? New place? Where?”
“Here. San Sequoia. I don’t know where exactly they’re looking; your guess is as good as mine. No vacant homes near my house that is all I know.”
I stared blankly at Connor. It wasn’t computing. My brother realized that, pulled me toward a chair.
“Bri, sit down. It’s all been a little much for you lately. I’ll get you some water. Don’t you move. I mean it! I’ll beat your butt if you leave this room. Sit and stay!”
Too dazed to argue, I sank into the chair. Why was my entire life changing so much? My beloved childhood home? Why?
Connor returned, briefly twisting the water bottle to break the seal before handing it to me. I gulped down half the bottle while he leafed through a file.
“Well, being Chief of Staff, I took the liberty of grabbing your file. Good news: all clear in your downstairs area—no new cysts—and -PHEW- you’re not pregnant. Before you give me the ‘oh Connor’ speech, remember when Keira and I moved out together? I know how one celebrates. Grandma Scarlett once reminded me that she had our dad and four more kids on one ovary; the other was donated to grandpa’s first wife to make Blake. So, considering our Cameron genes, kudos to you for keeping up with birth control. Once Jackson’s better, I’ll emphasize the importance of your twice-annual check-ups to make sure the cysts stay gone. We don’t need yet another emergency. If I know that kid at all, he’ll drag you here if need be.”
“But what about their grandchildren? What are they gonna inherit?” I still had my tires stuck at the relocation news from our parents.
“Far as I know they have a total of one grandkid thus far and my son will probably inherit my house, Bri. Bit macabre topic, considering he’s 6 and I am in my thirties.” my brother informed me, still mostly patient.
“Okay, what about when I have kids? What will they inherit?”
“A ranch? Assuming those hypothetical kids of yours would be with Jackson. Love the fact that we go straight from ‘I can’t ever have kids, waah waah’ to ‘kids, plural’. Sounds like the fresh country air finally made to remember everyone only ever said it will be harder for you, not impossible.” he snickered.
“Connor! Fine, then what about Iris’ kids?”
“Bri, NOBODY IS MOVING BACK TO BRINDLETON BAY! Quit thinking everyone pregnant here! Mom and dad aren’t required to buy houses for all their current and potential future grandkids! That would be their parents’ jobs, if the kids can’t swing it themselves when the time comes to move out! Which I certainly hope my son will, cos if he moves out in maybe 12 years or so at 18, I am seriously hoping it will be to a college campus, cos Keira and I will still only be in our forties and not quite ready for a retirement home, let alone the cemetery, thank you very much!”
“Fine, but why are they selling our beautiful home? Why didn’t you talk them out of it? You’re a genius—so think of something, Connor. Remember all the wonderful memories. Gone!”
“Bri, the beauty about memories is that they can’t be sold. Look, I wasn’t crazy about the news at first either, but while listening to them, it occurred to me that they probably didn’t like Keke and me moving to San Sequoia, clear across the country back when we did. But they’ve been supportive of us. Same with Iris and Jasper’s plans to move to DSV after graduation, and now you’re in Chestnut Ridge. We’re all here, Bri, and if not yet, we will be. All on this side of the country. So why would they wanna stay over there? Here’s a fact: Mom used to love Brindleton Bay, but Dad never did. From the sounds of it, now they’re both tired of those hoity-toity bitchez’ bullshit and I don’t blame them, which is why Keira and I got the hell out when we did. Having lived here in San Seq for about 8 years now, I can say for a fact there is none of that here. Besides, Aunt Michelle and Uncle Aiden are still there, so if you get THAT homesick for the Bay, take Jackson after he recovered and go see them. Personally, I love the idea of having our parents live in the same city. Chris loves his cool grandparents and was VERY excited they’ll be moving here. And you’ll be a few hours car ride away from them, rather than a long flight across the country, you can’t hate that, Bri? And they are loving being just a few hours’ drive away from Colton and Maddie again. This is good, Bri, for all of us. Whatever stuff we still have at mom and dads will get moved and the house itself, well, honestly, it’s part of growing up. Most people don’t live and die in the same place they were born. Circle of life. I know this is a shock and you are stretched thin but try to be supportive. Just chill, okay?”
I didn’t chill, but it happened anyway. The house sold almost instantly, and a week later, Mom and Dad already closed on a new one in San Sequoia. Connor and Keira told us it was beautiful, even showed some pics, but I was in my little bubble in Jackson’s hospital room, barely leaving his bedside unless someone dragged or kicked me out and had zero mind for real estate photos. I am sure we’d see it soon enough; I’d prefer Jackson to be up and walking again as we get a real-life tour. He finally could get up to walk up and down his room, then graduated to up and down the hallway for some exercise and to get his circulation going, but he was still in no condition to go tour houses. The best news was that he was recovering well ahead of schedule, given the severity of his injuries. Mom and Dad visited whenever us they could, as did Jack until he had to fly back home after spending two whole weeks here. He’d made arrangements with some locals to take turns looking after the ranch and even mom and dad offered, which made Jackson laugh so hard we thought he’d bust his stitches. Well, it’s the thought that counts.
But what REALLY buttered my toast—honestly, for all of us—was that my parents sold to a holdings company. Not unusual for such a sprawling estate as I was told, the biggest property in all Brindleton Bay. Little did they know the buyers later turned out to be none other than the Cunninghams. Yeah, THE Cunninghams, as in Brad Cunningham, my ex and his awful father, plus useless mother and my former high school friend Molly, aka Brad’s wife and their baby. It still upsets me because their very first plan of action was to tear my childhood home down.
LEVELED IT! Completely gone.
They’re building their dream home now, according to my aunt, uncle and cousins who still live there, right across the beach, so they had front row seats to the entire mess. My cousins Kristin and Donovan are still part of the old group and still on good terms with Brad and Molly. Unlike me, I guess, cos the last time I saw or heard from Brad was when I smashed pastry in his face. Yeah, I am such a class act, I know, but in my defense, I had been at my wit’s end with everything in my life then. Jasper had received the same treatment, but he hadn’t taken it personal, I had spoken to him a million times since, he found it funny, and he knew his big mouth had earned him the well-deserved pastry to his visage. Brad wasn’t like that, and I was sure he got his feelings hurt badly then.
With a heavy sigh, I stood there, sent from Jackson’s room to get some fresh air. My mom sat with him, as I was waiting for my coffee at the hospital cafeteria—something I’d done dozens of times since Jackson was admitted weeks ago. Drink a cup in peace out in the park of the medical center, then go back up to my boyfriend’s sterile bedroom, with all the beeping and buzzing from the medical equipment he was connected to.
But then, as if my thoughts had willed him into existence, someone tapped my shoulder, handing me a paper cup. I nearly peed myself when I found myself looking into Brad’s face, as if my mere thinking about him had willed him into existence.
“Didn’t you hear them calling your name? Fancy meeting you here?” he smiled.
“What are YOU doing here?” I blurted out, not intending to be rude, but genuinely shocked as I took the coffee from him. I glanced at the cup—it had my name on it. Well, ‘Brianna Rose,’ scribbled in the barista’s hasty handwriting. Hmph. Close enough, I guess.
Brad pointed at his white lab coat, the same kind of keycard clipped to it that my brother had, and the name tag read ‘Dr. Bradford Cunningham, Resident.’
“Doing a residency rotation here. I graduated ahead of schedule; my father is very proud. I couldn’t get the residency I wanted near home, so I am doing it here for a few months.” Brad chatted on; way too chipper for my current state of mind.
“Ah, gotcha. Cool, congrats. Oh, by the way, about … you know … last time we saw each other. The pastry to the face wasn’t cool. Jas got it too, but he doesn’t hold grudges for such things. Well, I apologize—I wasn’t in a good place mentally then.” I silently added in my head, ‘or now.’
“No biggie. I deserved it, I guess. Maybe I was a bit much. I didn’t mean to be. It’s just hard to find the golden middle after everything.” he told me softly and with a smile.
“Wait, so you are not pissed at me?” I looked at him as if he had grown some extra heads.
“No. Like I said, I get it. I am sorry too, Bri. There was never any ill-intend.”
My frustration bubbled over, my words sharp as broken glass. I cornered Brad, my eyes flashing with a mix of anger and hurt.
“Okay, then why did your parents buy my childhood home and level it? Not cool, Brad. You know how much I loved it. How much my entire family loved it. I get being pissed and needing an outlet, but normal people tear up old photos or get a damn voodoo doll, not tear down beautiful homes with so much history. Even our history!”
Brad’s expression shifted from defensive to earnest. He pulled me toward a quieter corner, away from prying eyes. “Bri, that’s not what happened! We bought the home fair and square, and there was no stipulation about preservation or anything. We tried to make it work, but we needed room for the horses. And we didn’t like the pool on the side—there was just no saving any of it. We tried; I assure you. It would have been cheaper and faster too.”
His voice softened, revealing a vulnerability. “That property used to belong to the Cunningham family for many generations, going back centuries. But my grandfather and his brother had a falling out. Neither had the money to buy the other out, so it went to court, and the property was sold. My dad worked tirelessly to rebuild the Cunningham empire, accumulating the old wealth, but the property just was never up for sale. When it finally came on the market, he had his agent outbid anyone and everything. We’re just going back to where we rightfully belong, Bri. This isn’t some sort of vendetta; this is restoring the Cunningham past. You know me better than that.”
“Right. Okay,” I said, honestly relieved. As much as I hated losing our beautiful home, having Mom and Dad so close had helped me through the rough time after Jackson’s accident. They wouldn’t have been able to be here as much if they were still living on the other side of the continent, and man, having them here had made such a difference for me in this difficult time. Maybe Connor was right, this wasn’t as bad as it initially felt. I think I really liked this change, even if it meant having to move on when I hadn’t really been ready to.
Brad’s voice softened. “Are you okay, Bri? Just visiting Connor, I hope?” Like him or not, Brad really was a good guy. Just his father… well, you know my thoughts on that man. How a devil personified like Dr. Cunningham Sr. could have raised a sweet and genuine guy like Brad is a mystery.
I grimaced, sipping my coffee. “Nope. Jackson had an accident. He’s in the… whatever-it’s-called-again unit. I keep forgetting. He was in the ICU, but now it’s the less sterile one but not out of the woods yet.”
“Ah, Intermediate Care Unit. Got it. Hope everything is progressing well?” Brad’s concern was genuine, and for a moment, I appreciated his presence amidst the chaos of emotions.
“Yeah, he’s healing well and stubborn as a mule. Keeps wanting to go home. I should get back. Whenever I step out for a little too long, he gets antsy and starts unplugging himself. Last time I took a walk after lunch, I got back to my mom laying on top of him across his hospital bed, trying to pin him down until the nurses got Connor. As funny as that scene might have been in retrospect, he found out my mom isn’t one to fuck around and was remined by her and my brother that he’s not here for a vacation. He is definitely not an easy patient.”
“I can see that…” Brad smiled frowning, pointing behind me. Lo and behold, Jackson was limping into the cafeteria, using his drip stand as a crutch. I slammed my coffee at Brad and ran to him to stabilize him. Brad followed, helping stabilize Jackson on the other side—something Jackson REALLY didn’t like. He swatted at Brad, trying to get him away, nearly making us both stumble and fall.
“The hell ya doin’ here?! Worse than vermin! Layin’ up there in that damn hospital bed I could feel something wasn’t right, and I see now it ain’t! Bri, why ya always gotta be talking to this rat-faced vulture?!” Jackson ranted. Brad had stepped back.
This was the moment when my mom and Connor appeared too. Jackson had apparently slipped away during my mom’s bathroom break, and she must have been on the hunt for him. She found Connor to help her look, and now they both stood there, giving Jackson the eye along with a piece of their minds. Connor possessed the strength of a bear, and Jackson had no chance against him as he pulled him to a chair, laying into him—just as my mom did.
Jackson eased into the chair, absorbing the verbal lashing with a face like a storm cloud. His drawl thickened—molasses on a cold day—each syllable a struggle against pain he refused to reveal.
“Briar Rose,” he muttered, “why ya gotta be chattin’ up that slick-tongued snake Brad? Ain’t sittin’ right with me. That ain’t right, ya can’t do that to me.”
Connor, the eternal referee, rolled his eyes and couldn’t help sounding like a true Cameron for a moment. “Jackson,” he deadpanned, “come on now, kid. Don’t act like you caught him panting while having Briar Rose bend over some table, banging her brains out. This is a hospital cafeteria, not a smut novel. People bump into each other here all the time. Ouch, mom!” Connor winced as our mom’s disapproval landed like a gentle punch.
Mom raised an eyebrow, her tone dripping with mock severity. “Connor,” she said, “you’re treading on thin ice here. Remember, I’ve got all your baby photos—those bathtub shots are just a click away from going live on social media. Keep it classy, baby boy! We don’t need to reference public nookie in the same sentence as your little sister’s name, not even to make an admittedly good point. You hear that, Jackson? I still have a big bone to pick with you, young man, for making a break for it when a girl has to go powder her nose real quick. Do that again, and you’ll find out why our big, buff Connor here still minds me. As if Bri and Brad would do something they shouldn’t. Seriously, what do you use for trust this season, huh?! If you didn’t have it rough enough already, I’d be spanking your butt now, but I like you and you don’t need more sore body parts on you.”
Jackson’s voice carried the weight of old grudges, each word a boulder hurled at Brad. “Naw, that ain’t what I was sayin’,” he growled. “Ain’t ‘bout trustin’ her, I do, I really do. It’s ‘bout him. Him I don’t trust as far as I can throw him. That vulture swooping in, all white coats and polished words, trying to get in her head and her heart again. I ain’t forgot what he did and what he let his daddy do, no sir. Don’t want him ’round her, talking smooth. I know what he’s trying to do, and I ain’t lettin’ him!”
My mom’s voice cut through the tension, her gaze sharp as a hawk’s. “Well, I do have to side with Jackson here. Seriously, kids, what is this supposed to be when it’s finished? Some tête-à-tête with the ex in the cafeteria while your man is reenacting some Benny Hill scenes with your poor mother and brother? What are you even doing here, Brad? Bit far from home and your studies for you, isn’t it?”
I shifted uncomfortably, caught between loyalty and the past, as did Brad next to me. His presence stirred memories—some sweet, others bitter. But in this hospital cafeteria, surrounded by my mom, brother and Jackson I had to navigate the delicate balance between forgiveness and self-preservation.
Avoiding Brad’s gaze, I shrugged. “He’s graduated, Mom,” I said softly. “Doing his residency here now. We just talked like friends; I assure you. I mean, I was here getting some coffee, so was he. Are we supposed to act as if we didn’t know each other? Would you have me stop, drop and roll to run away frantically at the sight of him?”
Jackson snorted. “To tell ya the truth, I think I’d prefer that over ya talkin’ to him. Graduatin’ don’t change a man’s soul, Bri. He’s still the same old weaklin’, a marionette with a bastard of a dad pullin’ his strings. I’ve been patient with this, thinkin’ y’all finally get bored with this nonsense, but ya ain’t. Every time I turn mah back, he’s there again. Ya can’t trust him and his big daddy, ya know better by now, dontcha?” His anger puzzled me; I’d never given him a reason for it. Love, it seemed, was a fickle mistress as they said.
The cafeteria seemed to hold its breath, the air thick with unresolved history. Brad’s gaze flickered toward Jackson, inscrutable. “Jackson,” he said, handing me back my coffee, his voice low and measured, “I understand you’ve got your reasons. But don’t lump me in with my father. We’re not cut from the same cloth. If nothing else, I have learned from his mistakes and am doing all I can to avoid repeating them.”
Jackson’s eyes narrowed. “Ain’t ya though, Brad? You wearin’ that white coat, just like him. Same profession, same lineage. Probably same mindset. Now ya got yer heir, you got Bri’s childhood home, thinking ya can get Bri back and ya get everything? Nah, mah friend, that ain’t gonna play out the way ya thinkin’ it might. I ain’t gonna let it. And Bri don’t want ya no more!” Jackson lept forward, grabbed my coffee and drank a big sip, until Connor wrestled it from him tossing my poor beverage into the nearest trash can with an angry growl. Bye bye, you still mostly full cup of strong goodness named ‘Brianna Rose’ and damn my beloved big brother and his overly dramatic resolve. Sigh.
Connor’s frustration erupted like a summer storm. “You’re not supposed to have coffee, and you know it! Getting your body shredded by some probably disease-riddled wild animal already destabilized your system. We can’t have you overstimulate your blood pressure with coffee now, especially without a way to monitor it. I explained all that to you. Do not disconnect the monitors, as your system could crash at any moment, and we need to catch that as soon as possible. You need to be in a controlled environment and connected to monitors because I can’t look at you and know what’s happening inside of you! I am good, but not that good. And you’re not supposed to leave the sterile unit—coming out in public spaces for a reason, kid! I’m all for you being up and walking, but not out here. The cafeteria is a cesspool of stuff you shouldn’t be exposed to just yet. Your body took a big hit, and as thrilled as I am with your fast progress, you’re in no shape to be doing this yet! It’s like dealing with a bunch of tired toddlers here—my little sister and you. If one isn’t misbehaving or throwing tantrums while trying to run out into oncoming traffic, the other is! Wish your father didn’t have to fly back home again! Jack would’ve been tired of this shit by now and dragged you back up to your room already! Then again, I love my best friend, I do, but I know where you got your damn stubbornness from! At least Jack’s finally learned to listen to me, because by now he figured out I don’t just blow hot air but know a thing or two about a thing or two!”
Jackson’s retort was swift, his voice edged with pain. “Ain’t ‘bout bein’ stubborn or difficult, Connor, I don’t mean to be. I appreciate all y’all are doin’ for me, I do. I just ain’t no wimp and not made to lay ‘round all day lazily when I know I got things to do back home that now other people have to do for me addin’ to their load. And knowin’ mah girl is down here gettin’ sweettalked by this fool ain’t sittin’ right, and I am gonna put a stop to that, cos that is my job and that is THAT!”
Brad’s jaw tightened, his gaze unwavering. “Doesn’t feel good to get lumped in with your father, does it, Jackson? I’m not my father,” he said, each word deliberate. “But he IS my father, and because of that, I have to respect him. Believe it or not, I understand how that can be hard to see and even harder to believe for anyone outside our household, but he genuinely loves me and did all the things he has done out of love, thinking he was protecting me and my future. Even though I didn’t like what he did any more than you or Bri have, what could I have done differently? I was a minor when all that happened, unlike Bri I have no other family, just my parents at that point. Parents aren’t infallible, Jackson, you should know that better than most. I chose medicine because it’s in my bones, because I genuinely care and want to help people, not because he made me. And Briar Rose—” He glanced at me, a flicker of something passing between us. “she is no idiot. I can’t make her do anything she doesn’t want to do any more than you can. If you really think that, you are a fool, Kershaw. She talks to me because she knows me better than you do, and she knows I am not the terrible jerk you paint me to be.”
I shifted uncomfortably. Brad’s father—Dr. Cunningham Sr.—had wielded his influence like a scalpel, slicing through our young love, breaking us up when I didn’t fit his plans after emergency surgery left me with potential fertility issues in the future. I might never be able to have kids. Or maybe I could, but maybe wasn’t good enough for Cunningham Sr. and he showed how much he controlled his wife and only child, breaking everyone’s hearts in the process. But Brad? He’d fought for us, until he couldn’t anymore. And until I didn’t want to anymore, after I realized I had long fallen for Jackson, even though at the time, Jackson seemed an even more unrealistic success story than fighting Brad’s father had been. And all that before we had even graduated high school. Now here we were, Brad, graduating med school ahead of schedule, and me living at a ranch with Jackson doing absolutely nothing with my education I had received before dropping out of college.
Jackson scoffed. “You tryin’ to tell me you don’t still carry a torch for her? Even now? Ha, ya must really think I am some country hick with less of a mind than a common tater!”
Brad’s gaze held mine, and I saw the ache there—the unspoken words, the what-ifs. “No, I am not saying that,” he said softly. “But some fires burn too hot to touch. I know my boundaries, Jackson. If you want to hear me say it, yes, I care deeply for Bri and always will, but because I do, I want to see her happy, even if it isn’t with me. I know you are whom she wants now, you are who makes her happy, so I would never jeopardize that. But you gotta give me something here. I must at least be able to speak to her. Don’t take her from me completely. I have a wife, whom I love, and a son, who is the apple of both our eyes. I would never do anything to hurt either of them, nor risk what she and I had to work on building. Molly and I may not share the many similarities as Bri and I used to, but we both have been working on that. We all make mistakes, Jackson. I can admit to mine. But I don’t like being held responsible for things that were outside my power and surely, you wouldn’t take the high road on all things Bri, or do I have to remind you both that we all did things we definitely shouldn’t have?”
And in that moment, I realized: Brad wasn’t just some soft-spoken slightly nerdy cute boy from high school or college anymore. He had changed. Matured.
Jackson’s knuckles whitened as he clenched his fists. His gaze bore into Brad, a silent challenge. The past was a tangled web, and here it was, unraveling in the fluorescent-lit cafeteria.
The cafeteria crackled with tension, a symphony of past wounds and present passions. Jackson’s voice, rough as gravel, sliced through the air like a blade. “Brad,” he growled, “you don’t get it. Ain’t just about Bri bein’ her own woman. It’s about much more than that. You say ya got history with her, makin’ it sound like some once-in-a-lifetime thing, somethin’ unique that ended way too soon for reasons out of yer and her control. But let me tell ya how I know that ain’t the case.”
His words hung heavy, “I know she likes ya, Brad, that’s why I didn’t mind ya comin’ ’round still, but she don’t like ya in the way ya seem to think she does. Yer on some one-way-road there, buddy and I’ll tell ya how I know. She ran from ya, Brad, back when you and her were tryin’ to become adults in ev’ry last way teenagers know how to,” Jackson continued, eyes smoldering. “But she couldn’t do that with ya, just couldn’t go through it, not with you. She ran from ya and came straight to me, lyin’ her way over to this side of the country, stealin’ Connor’s car just to see me. I didn’t know it then, not right away, cos I was still wet behind the ears myself, just another ignorant teenager thinkin’ I knew it all and then some. Thought she came for mah horses, but I caught on soon enough. I took her ridin’ down to that waterfall she loves so much, we played in the water like innocent kids, but something was different, the way she looked at me, like I was the damn sunrise—that was mah first clue. I became her first, Bradford. Because she chose me. That gorgeous, smart girl chose lil ole me over someone like you, even though you were right there and I was so far away. If that ain’t special, then I don’t know what would be! I love her, and she loves me and that the beginnin’ and the end of it”
Grimacing, Connor shifted uncomfortably, caught between sibling loyalty and shared history and while he long had figured out what had happened back then at Jackson’s cabin after I had taken his car without asking, he had never heard anyone admit to it out loud. “Jackson,” he said, “we all made choices when we were at that age, no longer kids but not quite adults yet. I did, our parents did, story old as time. I am happy you have fond memories and seemingly so does my sister. But none of that belongs in the cafeteria of the place where I work. And where Brad now works. Keep your bedroom memories to your bedroom, please. And away from me, if you would. Especially those involving my little sister!”
All eyes turned to my mom, wide-eyed and caught in the crossfire. She shook her head, silently, then hurried off, muttering something about coffee and ‘glad your father isn’t here having to listen to this!‘. My parents were very supportive, open-minded and not ignorant about teenage minds and actions, but like my big brother, there’s a difference between knowing and hearing it said out loud.
“Yeah,” Jackson spat, fire in his veins, “Bri’s everything to me. Fire and wildflowers. I’ll be damned if anyone snuffs her out with old stories about regrets and history. So what if ya got history with her? So do I. I’ve known her longer, didcha know that? Back when ya were still playing in the sandbox with Jasper, oblivious about how precious she’d grow up to be. Ask Connor.”
Connor, ever the voice of reason, chimed in. “Yeah naw, let’s not drag Connor into this,” he said, referring to himself in the third person. “This is a pissing contest nobody can win. Bri can be civil with Brad, and Brad’s gonna be the good kid we know he is. That’s that.” He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge the weight of our tangled past.
Brad’s jaw worked, and for a moment, I saw the boy I’d once loved—the one who’d held my hand under moonlit skies. But time had etched memories on his heart, and life had tempered his edges.
“I won’t take her from you,” Brad said, his voice raw. “But I won’t disappear either. She’s my friend, Jackson. Maybe more once upon a time. I’ll respect your boundaries, but don’t ask me to vanish. That is not fair to Bri or to me, I am part of her history as well, whether you like that or not. I wish you a speedy and full recovery.” Brad nodded at me, then at Connor, and walked off.
“Yeah, that was some unnecessary excitement. I am gonna take you back to your room now, Jackson, where you will stay or you and I will have a problem. Your prognosis is great, all things considered, but I need to hammer into your stubborn head that your injuries are severe. I didn’t put you in high-level care because I was lonely without you and wanted to stare into your blue eyes several times a day, but because you need it! Copy?”
“Yeah, copy that,” Jackson said weakly. But before Connor could help him up, I swept in, kissing my boyfriend intensely, ignoring my big brother’s annoyed grunts and groans.
“I love you, Jackson. ONLY you.”
“Well, I sure hope you have some love left for the rest of us. We definitely work hard for it,” Connor interjected, receiving a glare from me.
“Can we get a moment of privacy?” I snapped at him.
“Yeah. Up in his room, once I got him all reconnected, you can have all the privacy you two want.” Connor said unimpressed, plucking me off Jackson like a ragdoll, then lifting him out of the chair. Jackson tried to appear tough, forcing a smile at me, while the pain was etched into his face. Connor slowly made his way to a wheelchair with him, and Mom followed us with a tray of coffee.
Once back in his room, Connor reconnected him to all the monitoring machines, finally nodding, satisfied that everything was working, when Mom handed him and me a cup. She was about to sip on her own but took pity on Jackson watching us with big eyes, almost drooling. Removing the lid from her coffee cup, she sat on his bedside and began to slow-feed him some coffee with a spoon, blowing on it before putting it up to his lips, as if feeding a toddler, returning Connor’s glare with a challenging one of her own.
“What? Monitors are connected again, and surely, a little bit won’t hurt a big, strong boy like this, right Con-Bear?” she said testily. Our entire family were coffee addicts. Rule of thumb: if the last name is or was Cameron, don’t even think about questioning our coffee intake. Trust me, for us it’s medicinal.
“No, Mom, probably not, but where do you draw the line? First, it’s a few spoonfuls, and before I know it, he’s having Bri haul it up here by the bucket. It’s gonna be a circus around here. Then again, guess it already is, so whatever. What do I know, I am only the attending physician.”
“My point exactly! That’s where you come in. If you think it’s too much or if some readings start going off course, I’m sure you know how to stop that, seeing as you’re the doctor here and not exactly weak and helpless. Give us a break, Con-Bear. We’re not just a bunch of randos who stumbled into your unit. Give us a little credit here, will you? I raised three stubborn kids with Cameron and Hanson genes, plus watching your son and I haven’t killed any of you yet.” Mom argued.
Frustrated, Connor rubbed his hands across his face. He knew it came from a place of care; Mom really did like Jackson a lot, even though initially, she hadn’t been too crazy about him—especially once she and Dad caught on that I liked him a lot more than just as the son of my big brother’s friend. Clearly, she and Dad had since come around.
Jackson now smiled at her, grateful.
“Thanks, Mrs. Cameron, that coffee does a feller good,” he drawled. Connor and I exchanged surprised glances when she bent down to kiss his forehead, her touch gentle against his cheek, as if he were another one of her kids.
“Hailey, please. And you make sure you get healthy again. Oh, and don’t worry about Brad. I know Bri; she’s just like me. Once we Hanson/Cameron girls make up our minds, we’re stubborn as mules.”
“Yup,” Connor blurted out a little too enthusiastically, earning a swat on the butt from Mom.
“I reserve the right to spank any and all of my kids at any point in their lives!” she informed him, trying not to snicker. Mom and I looked so much alike; everything except the color of my eyes, which were light green like my dad’s, while my twin sister had mom’s blue eyes but looked like a female version of dad. Connor was a female interpretation of our mom, with her brother’s tall, athletic build. Mom was very youthful in her late 50s in appearance and demeanor, easily passing for early forties or even late 30s. My dad always had a baby-faced charm as well, which paid off now as they got older, and we kids had inherited that.
She turned to me, kissed my cheek, and hugged me, telling me to stay strong. Then she stood on her tiptoes to kiss my big brother’s cheek; his athletic self towered over both us girls. She linked her arm into his.
“Walk me to my car; let’s let these two have some privacy again.”
As they both said their goodbyes, Mom assured us she and Dad would by first thing tomorrow morning. They left, leaving behind a sense of family and love that wrapped around Jackson and me.
I stood there, looking at Jackson, who gazed up at me, smiling and winking. He flipped up the blanket and patted the bed next to him. Giggling, I kicked off my shoes and squeezed into the little space beside him. We both fell asleep, side by side, for the first time in many days. It was the best sleep either one of us had ever since Jackson’s accident.
EchoesOfLegacy 