San Sequoia
Seaglass Haven
The late afternoon sun cast a warm glow over Seaglass Haven, its familiar presence settling over the sprawling estate with the ease of something eternal. It was a place of laughter, music, and family—a home that had seen generations worth of stories unfold.
And now, another one was about to begin.
Clusters of light blue and light green balloons bobbed lazily in the air, tied to chairs and cabinet handles, brushing against streamers hung along the windows. The dine-in kitchen had transformed into a chaotic but cheerful hub—an intimate baby shower and welcome home as well as a celebration of a new yet old relationship renewed, all wrapped into one. Or, as Connor so eloquently put it, a ‘what-the-fuck-ever-party’—marking Bri’s return from the hospital, the official announcement of baby Nathaniel, and the reunion of something once lost, now found again.
The dining table overflowed with food: platters of mini sliders, bowls of fresh fruit, a gorgeous pasta spread, and cupcakes topped with tiny blue booties. A towering cake sat proudly at the center, its icing swirling in elegant script:
Welcome Home, Briar Rose
But the décor had an unmistakably Cameron-family twist.
Pinned to the fridge, taped to cabinets, and casually leaned against the coffee machine were blown-up paparazzi photos of Bri and Brad’s highly publicized Sulani getaway. Kissing on the beach, wrapped in the surf, and Brad dramatically lifting Bri bridal-style through the waves. Someone—most likely Jasper—had made sure the most theatrical images were front and center, for maximum teasing value.
And, of course, Jasper couldn’t resist leaving his personal mark.
A large banner stretched proudly across one of the walls, its elegant lettering announcing: “Welcome Home.” But it was the addition in Jasper’s distinct, slanted scrawl that truly completed it—scrawled across a taped-on sheet of paper with absolutely no concern for spacing:
“…plus one! ETA: TBD.”
As if the household needed any help turning this into an event, the note ensured the moment was officially cemented in Cameron family lore.
Brad stood behind Bri, his hand resting lightly on the back of her firm, supportive dining room chair. The two had just arrived home together after her earlier discharge from the hospital. She sat carefully, her posture straight but measured, still mindful of the lingering ache from her Ovarian Torsion surgery. Soft couches were much more tempting, as she still felt exhausted, but her stitches and the swelling beneath her ribs made anything too plush a terrible idea.
Connor leaned against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, his wife Keira on a barstool beside him, their son Christian, a carbon copy of Connor, sizing up the situation like a silent spectator.
Bri’s twin, Iris, sat at the table near the door, her growing pregnancy bump visible beneath her fitted sweater, her husband Jasper cradling their infant daughter Anastasia, rocking her with absentminded ease.
Bri’s daughter, Briony, perched on her grandmother Hailey’s lap next to Iris, clearly sensing the weight of the moment, though she had no idea why it felt different.
And then there were Jasper and Keira’s parents—longtime best friends of Chase and Hailey, former bandmates turned extended family. They were already sipping wine, likely preparing for either celebration or disaster.
Brad exhaled, shifting his gaze toward Chase, who leaned against the fridge, and Hailey, who sat across from him. Their postures were expectant—but lighthearted, like they were bracing for impact yet ready to laugh about it. He had known them since he and Bri were teenagers, back when they had dated before, and now, more than fifteen years later, they were still the same—just visually aged. He couldn’t help but admire that about them. They had always handled life with humor, never letting anything shake their core belief that happiness—family—came first.
Bri reached for a glass of champagne someone had left on the table near her, but before her fingers could wrap around it, Jasper swooped in, snatching it away with the kind of practiced ease that only years of sibling-like mischief could hone. He pressed a loud kiss to her cheek, grinning as he leaned back.
“Ah-ah, mama,” he teased, his smirk practically glowing with mischief.
Brad, standing just behind Bri, narrowed his eyes playfully, his voice low but pointed. “Jas…”
“Oh, what’s this? Cunningham wants to stake territory with me now?” Jasper’s grin widened, his tone dripping with mock bravado. “Yeah, well, nah. Watch this.”
Before Brad could respond, Jasper grabbed both Bri and Iris at the same time, pulling them close and planting a loud kiss on each of their cheeks.
“That’s right,” Jasper declared smugly, throwing an arm around them both like he’d just won a prize. “Mah bitchez right here!”
Bri swatted at him, laughing despite herself. “OMG, Jas, STAHP! And you did NOT just call us that!”
“Sure did, mah bitch,” he shot back, his grin only growing as she pushed his face away, still smiling.
Iris wiped her cheek dramatically, her tone dripping with mock exasperation. “Ugh, and I married that shit!”
Chuckles rippled through the room, weaving into the dull roar of ongoing conversations, the clinking of dishes, and bursts of laughter—occasionally interrupted by a raised voice as someone launched into an enthusiastic story.
Hailey blinked, then immediately turned to Chase with an amused smirk. “Yeah, well, so here we are with Brad and Bri again, and this time, it looks a lot more permanent. You owe me, Gump. I called it the day Bri brought him here and kissed him by the pool. Told you this was happening.”
Chase huffed, shaking his head before looking back at Brad. “Yeah, shocker. Surprising absolutely no one. Just hoping this doesn’t blow up in flames again.”
Connor snorted. “Ah, Dad, I think Brad isn’t the same he once was. I’m pretty convinced he’s actually come into his own. Don’t prove me wrong, Cunningham.”
Jasper, grinning wide, leaned forward with a dramatic flourish. “Yeah, you wanna be careful there, Brad. Don’t piss off the big guy. If Con-Bear beats your ass, there won’t be much left.”
Brad didn’t miss a beat, his smirk sharp as he fired back, “Well, seeing as you’ve been running your mouth for thirty-three years and still have all your teeth, I think I’ll take my chances.”
Next to them, sitting at the table beside her fraternal twin sister, Iris gasped, eyes widening in immediate realization, freezing mid-chew. The bite of food sat on her tongue, forgotten, as she held up a hand, fingers slightly curled like she was physically trying to halt the conversation.
“Wait. Wait. Hang on a minute. Is my math not math-ing, or are you implying this started—”
Brad sighed, giving a soft shrug. “Yes, Iris, your math is math-ing. And yes, technically, I was still married to Molly—but if we’re being honest, that marriage had been over long before that night. She’d been stepping out for years, and at that point, it was nothing more than a formality on paper. But sure, go ahead—get the pitchforks ready.”
Before the inevitable onslaught of questions, he continued. “It happened when Bri was on her PR tour in San Myshuno. She decided to visit Brindleton Bay for some nostalgia, and she walked into the old Harbor Haute Cuisine restaurant we all liked. I was already there, and when I saw her—I swear, it was like time folded in on itself. We ended up having lunch together, went on a walk, and the connection was still there. It was almost instant. I fell in love with her all over again.”
Brad exhaled, running a hand through his hair before giving a knowing look. “And since I know you’re going to ask, I’ll just get ahead of it—yes, things progressed very fast from there. We most likely created our son that very same night. And yes, I was still married to Molly then.”
Jasper whistled, leaning back with an exaggerated smirk. “Dayum, bro! Who even are you now? The Brad I knew when we were kids would’ve written a tearful apology letter just for thinking about another woman. Now you’re out here breaking vows, creating naughty headlines and making babies out of wedlock like it’s a sport. Duuude!”
Connor muttered, shaking his head. “I’ll say. Did you even give Bri a moment to take off her clothes or just drill right through?”
“CONNOR!” Keira playfully punched her laughing husband, joining the chuckles spreading through the room.
Brad let out a tired laugh, running a hand through his hair. “It all admittedly progressed very fast.”
Connor’s grin lingered, but his voice sharpened slightly. “No shit. And on behalf of everyone here—especially Bri—thanks for the heads-up. Nothing like walking out of some dull-ass meeting straight into my little sister being admitted, and before I can even say ‘What the actual—’ I find myself in surgery with her ex, trying to save her life and the bonus nephew that came with purchase.”
Brad’s lips twitched, amusement flickering behind exhaustion. “Bri saved my life first.”
Connor raised a brow.
Brad met his gaze, voice steady. “I know how sappy this sounds, but she came back into my life at exactly the right moment—without even knowing it. She pulled me out of a place I didn’t even realize I was drowning in. Even my kids see it. Whatever you all think, whatever the media spun? It’s not even half the story. You’re barely scratching the surface.”
The silence stretched, but it wasn’t awkward.
It was understanding.
No jokes. No smirks. Just the weight of his words settling over the room.
Brad exhaled, dragging a hand down his face. “Guys, look—we weren’t trying to keep secrets. At first, we had no choice. Then—on a trip to Mount Komorebi—we found out she was five weeks along…”
Hailey interrupted, blinking. “Wait, what trip to Mount Komorebi?”
Chase nudged her, smirking. “I’m gonna assume that would be the trip for those supposed PR photos nobody ever saw?”
Maddie sighed, shaking her head. “What PR photos? We have some scheduled, but none taken yet. And at this rate—if we wait much longer, they’ll double as maternity shots.” She sent Bri a dry look. “So, thanks for that. I am only here for the PR.”
Brad chuckled, shifting his weight. “Well—it was a secret getaway. Operative word: secret. I needed to breathe, and Bri invited me along. Thought it would be just some R&R, and it was so much fun—until she fell mysteriously ill, couldn’t keep down even water, dehydrated, and ended up in a tiny emergency clinic. That’s when they hit us with the news: She was expecting my child. It took us a minute to let it sink in, but once it did? I sprung into action and got the ball rolling on my long-overdue divorce. Well, the rest, as they say, is history.”
The room absorbed that revelation with varying degrees of shock, amusement, and exasperation.
He smiled at her. She smiled back.
Chase stared for half a second. Then—
“Jesus Christ, man! We all knew you two were still carrying torches for each other, but practically humping each other the second you ran into each other on the street?! Good grief.” He let out an incredulous laugh, shaking his head. “Did you not know she just got out of a divorce?”
“Daddy!” Bri groaned. “And yes, Brad knew. Believe it or not, I was the one driving all of this. He took everything I offered—fast and liberal, I won’t deny that—but he didn’t ask a lot of questions. He didn’t push. If anyone deserves a finger wag, it’s me. I kissed him first when we walked up to the lighthouse, and he was the perfect gentleman, walking me back to my room. And, well—I literally slipped him my room key.”
Brad’s lips twitched.
She sighed. “He showed up that night, and I didn’t waste time.”
“Yeah, Bri, we all gathered as much,” Chase prompted dryly.
Bri winced. “Yeah. And since then we have been meeting in secret whenever we both could get away for a few days. Since he was, well…”
“Still married,” Iris, the young attorney, finished flatly. Then—with a flick of her fingers—added, “And now he’s not, before you even start showing. Wow. Pays off to have your last name and a mother for a judge, huh, Brad? Never seen such a speedy divorce. Especially not with kids involved. Then again, Bri’s went superfast too—but Jackson didn’t contest. He was drowning in guilt. Probably still is. Would’ve jumped off a cliff if she asked him to.”
Connor shook his head. “Might still, if he hears about the baby. Good grief! That guy’s gonna have a cow. I have already been trying to come up with the best ways to ease our family cowboy into that one. Even tried to get Jack to come for a visit but when I told him why that chickenshit backed out.”
Brad sighed, shifting his stance. “Yes, as Iris said, all credit for the speedy dissolution of my marriage goes to my father, may he rest in peace. Airtight prenup. Custody agreement in place. And my ex-wife had been stepping out on our marriage for years. Add my name and my mother being a judge? Done.”
Connor huffed, rubbing his jaw thoughtfully. “Look, Brad—I never had any beef with you. I always thought you and Bri were great together. Don’t get me wrong, I’m partial to Jackson—he’s a solid guy, his dad’s my best friend. But we were right all along when we warned them about how different they were. Even back when they first started getting sweet, we all told them their lifestyles wouldn’t mix. That caught up with them badly. As much as I still like Jackson, I think I can speak for all here present, I don’t need a rerun of that ever again.”
Hailey studied Brad for a moment before speaking.
“So… when are we making all this official? You and Bri? I mean, normally I am all for easing into things, but you are gonna be parents to little Nate, you have been moving at lightning speed, why slow down now, huh?”
Before Brad could answer, Iris suddenly perked up, her expression brightening as the thought hit her. “Oh my God,” she blurted out, eyes darting between them. “Nate? Bri’s and my kid are gonna be cousins—Nate and Tate! That’s adorable.”
A beat of silence passed before Chase huffed out a laugh, shaking his head. “Iris, you really just put that together now?”
Iris rolled her eyes but couldn’t hide her grin. “Hey, Jasper and I only settled on Tate’s name a few weeks ago! It just hit me when Mom said Nate instead of Nathaniel. I literally wasn’t thinking about nicknames after all the recent news.”
The room filled with a brief ripple of laughter, the kind that comes when exhaustion meets absurdity. Even Brad couldn’t help but crack a small smile.
Brad let out a slow breath. “To answer Hailey’s question: Well, if you mean tell all of you, that was supposed to be the day Bri ended up having surgery.” His jaw clenched slightly. “Sadly, the press had different ideas. Waited for us like castle ghosts in the shadows and got Bri worked up enough to collapse. And by then it was as official as it gets. Practically everyone knows now.”
Connor rolled his eyes, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Come on, Cunningham, you know what Mom was really asking—when are you gonna lock this down? We’re basically teetering on the edge of a shotgun wedding here. If it were anyone else, I wouldn’t say a word, but you? You can’t exactly hang with the Old Guard in the Bay while a lovechild and your warmed-over high school sweetheart are stirring things up across the county.”
Bri groaned, throwing her hands in the air. “Seriously, Connor! You’re not my dad, you know? We’ll figure it out when we figure it out. Jeez!”
“Well, he’s not your dad,” Chase interjected, leaning casually against the fridge, arms crossed. “But I am. And I have the same valid question, for the exact same reason. This isn’t your typical ‘oopsie’ situation. This is Cunningham and Cameron we’re talking about. Con-Bear’s right—you can’t just ride this one out. Sure, they overlooked your messy divorce, but current headlines and a surprise baby? You and I both know that won’t fly.”
Brad let out a half-smile, shaking his head. “Look, I’m just gonna be honest here. You all know me, and you know Bri and my story. Letting her go the first time was my biggest mistake, and getting this second chance—a chance I never thought I’d have—makes it damn hard to take it slow. I’m trying, for her sake. But the truth is, whenever she’s ready for more, so am I.”
He turned to her, squeezing her hand. She met his gaze with a warm, certain smile. Brad’s voice softened as he continued.
“I’d marry her right this second if she said the word. But I won’t propose until we’ve both had the chance to meet each other’s kids properly and get to know them. I just don’t want to overwhelm anyone—especially our kids. But having met Briony,”—his tone lightened as he glanced her way, an affectionate grin spreading across his face—“I can say she’s truly special.”
Briony, curled up in Hailey’s lap, soaked up the attention, her giggles bursting out as she buried her face against her grandma’s shoulder, wrapping her arms around Hailey like a fortress. “I’m super special!” she declared, her voice muffled but brimming with delight. “But you’re looking at me too much.”
Brad chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t help it. You’re too cute.”
She peeked out, her face scrunched in mock shyness before her grin broke through. “Yeah, I know.”
Laughter rippled through the room, breaking some of the lingering tension.
Chase reached over, ruffling Briony’s hair with a playful smirk. “Yup, she’s a humble one.”
“Grampaaaa! Don’t!” she shrieked, scrambling off Hailey’s lap. “My hair! Now I have to fix it!”
With dramatic determination, Briony huffed and hurried toward the pool house, where she and Bri lived, likely on a mission to find a mirror and hairbrush.
Connor and Keira’s 17-year-old son, Chris, laughed, shaking his head. “Are we really sure she’s not Jasper’s accidental love child with Aunt Bri?”
Instantly, a variety of middle fingers were flashed in his direction—courtesy of Bri, Iris, and Jasper.
“Yeah, you got us, you little dildo,” Jasper shot back, smirking. “Jackson tagged me in halfway through, so Beau’s his and Briony’s mine. I mean, Bri and Iris are twins, sooo… technically, it wouldn’t even count as cheating, right? All stays in the family!”
“Dream on, you weirdo!” Iris shoved her husband, who also happened to be Bri’s best friend, rolling her eyes.
Brad exhaled, letting the laughter settle before easing back into the conversation. He paused, glancing at Bri—who was seated at the dining table, her posture relaxed but clearly still recovering—and her mom, Hailey, who sat nearby, watching her daughter with an ever-present air of maternal concern. Turning his attention to Chase and Hailey, Brad spoke.
“Actually,” Brad began, his voice steady but carrying weight, “while we’re on the topic, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask.”
The room quieted slightly, sensing the shift in tone.
“Chase. Hailey.” Brad’s gaze didn’t waver. “I’ve loved your daughter for most of my life. Losing her was the biggest regret I’ve ever had, and getting her back—getting this second chance—is something I never thought I’d have. It’s something incredibly precious to me.
So, I’m asking for your blessing to marry her. Not today, not tomorrow—but when we’ve had a moment to breathe. Hopefully soon, but I want to do this right. For her, for our kids, for all of you.”
Connor groaned. “Ah, shit, here we go…”
Chase shot him a look and gave him a playful shove. “Serious kid?”
“Dead serious,” Brad replied without hesitation.
Bri’s eyes widened slightly, her cheeks flushing with surprise as she glanced at Brad. Her hand instinctively went to her mom’s arm, as if seeking reassurance. Hailey reached over, giving Bri’s hand a comforting squeeze, her expression softening into a warm smile as she turned back to Brad.
Jasper leaned forward, grinning. “Yeah, Brad, real smooth. What’s next? The official proposal during Thanksgiving dinner while passing the mashed potatoes?”
Laughter rippled through the room, breaking the tension. Bri let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, her smile tentatively blooming as she looked at Brad again, her mom’s supportive presence anchoring her.
Chase finally let out a long breath, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “Well, I would be lying if I were to act surprised here, I mean, like the one-eye hooker said “Saw it coming”. Bit late to say no now anyway, since you both didn’t.”
Hailey didn’t wait—she stood, pulling Brad into a warm hug. “What Gump is trying to say in is very own way is that you have our blessing, Brad. Just take care of our sweet Bri.”
Brad’s shoulders eased, his voice soft but certain. “Always.”
Hailey softened, reaching for Bri’s hand. “Are you happy? That’s genuinely all I care about.”
Bri squeezed her fingers, her voice quiet but full. “I am, Mom. VERY happy.”
Chase nodded slowly, considering that answer before letting out a long breath. “Alright. Good enough for me. That’s all I needed to hear. Welcome to the family, then, Brat-fart.”
Without hesitation, Chase pulled Brad into a firm hug, clapping him on the back with a bit more force than necessary—equal parts acceptance and playful intimidation. Brad chuckled, shaking his head, returning the gesture with the same mix of warmth and begrudging amusement.
“Appreciate it,” Brad muttered. “Even if I could’ve done without the nickname.”
“Oh, no, kid.” Chase pulled back, smirking. “That one’s permanent now. We do nicknames in this family. I am Gump, but only to her, never EVER call me that. She is Patches, but only to me, same as with mine, just don’t. He is Con-Bear, that is Keke, Chris is a lot of things, but mostly Chaos or Cam the Ham—because he’s chaos. Iris is Barracuda—sharp, relentless, and fiercely protective, not just as an attorney. Briar Rose is Bri or BriRo, Jasper is Jas or Motormouth—because as you know he never shuts up. Maddie is Mads, Colton is Cole, Beau is Bobo, Briony is Mini-Bri, and our mutt Snuffins over there is the Fartenator—three guesses why. And now, you are Brat-fart. It’s an honor, as my late father came up with it. Wear it proudly.”
Brad exhaled, realizing the silly nickname wasn’t an insult but rather a ticket into the family’s inner circle. “Got it. Brat-fart it is then. Thank you. I’m honored—and very happy.”
“Nobody cares,” Jasper deadpanned, his tone perfectly flat.
Bri shot him a pointed glare, her unimpressed expression landing squarely on target. “I care, Jas. Can you stop now and be nice, please?”
Jasper shrugged with lazy nonchalance, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth betrayed him. “Fine, fine. Congrats, Brad. You’ve officially scored the grand prize—an all-inclusive lifetime subscription to the Cameron family, plus the Hargrave branch.” He waved a hand dramatically, as if presenting a commercial offer. “No escape, no cancellations, no refunds, and definitely no exchanges. Worse than any cult. Hope you read the fine print.” He chuckled, clearly pleased with himself.
Brad smirked, glancing around the room and exhaling. “I’ll take it. Beats what I had any day of the week.”
Iris raised a brow, her expression amused. “Oof. Don’t remind me. I remember your father—we all do. What a fucking trip, that man. Sorry, I know we’re not supposed to speak ill of the dead, but honestly? That doesn’t leave much else to say. And then Molly. Oh, for fuck’s sake, she had the hots for you in high school. It was disgusting. I told her more than once to just nail some dude and get it out of her system, but no—she was dead set on our Braddy, who only ever had eyes for Bri. Kinda funny if it weren’t so damn tragic.”
Jasper leaned back, a grin spreading across his face as he chuckled. “Yeah, man—sounds like you downgraded and upgraded at the same time. Real rollercoaster vibes.”
“Downgrade? Well, here’s a healthy fuck you too, Jas!” Bri shot back, flipping him off.
“I didn’t mean you, jeez, keep your panties on, Bri,” Jasper replied, smirking. “I just figured Molly would’ve turned his divorce into one of those classic Jackson country songs—you know, where the dog, the horse, and the wife all run off in the truck together to party it up in Cabo. Some cowboy wails about it to a guitar and banjo while screwing his sister or something. Not that I’d know—I barely understand half that twangy bullshit.”
Brad laughed, shaking his head. “Trust me—this is all upgrade. No contest. I don’t have a sister, a dog, or a truck, but I do have horses. And unlike those classic country songs, I still have all my things, too. The divorce was fairly amicable—well, at least by the end it was.”
Connor lifted his glass, his tone light but sincere. “Well, cheers to that, then.”
And just as everyone settled into the moment—
The front door opened.
An Unexpected Arrival
In walked Jackson, with Beau beside him—his son, who lived with him full-time while his twin sister stayed here with Bri and her parents.
Brad felt his stomach tighten, the timing so unbelievably ironic it bordered on cruel. Jackson had a history of brawling, and considering what he was about to piece together, Brad wasn’t sure if he’d get through this evening without ending up in the ocean.
The moment Jackson stepped in, Jackson’s sharp eyes swept the room, his posture stiffening—not from nerves, but from what he was seeing.
The decorations. The cake. The balloons. And then, the blown-up ultrasound photo proudly displayed among them.
His ex-wife had a new man. And she was pregnant.
Beside him, Beau slowed to a halt, his boots tapping softly against the floor as he scanned the room. His wide eyes flicked to Bri, confusion creasing his brow.
“Oh dang,” Beau drawled, his tone curious and innocent, “is it somebody’s birthday or somethin’? Them balloons sure look fancy. Is this for us, Pa?”
Jackson’s jaw tightened, his gaze darting sharply to Brad and Bri. Through gritted teeth, he muttered, “No, son. It sure as hell ain’t.”
Bri froze, her fingers tightening around the side of her chair as though bracing herself, her expression unreadable.
For a moment, silence took hold, thick and unyielding.
Then Jackson’s gaze locked onto Brad and Bri.
Brad saw the exact second realization hit: the subtle flex of Jackson’s jaw, the way his fingers twitched at his sides.
The entire room held its breath.
Connor slowly set his glass down, posture shifting, his weight evenly balanced as if ready to intercept.
Hailey, ever the master of emotional deflection, stepped forward with practiced ease, her voice calm but firm. As she spoke, she reached out, placing a steady hand on Jackson’s arm, her grip gentle but grounding—the kind of touch only a mother could manage.
“Jackson, sweetheart, we weren’t expecting you and Beau tonight, but come on in,” Hailey said warmly, stepping forward with practiced ease. “Would you like a coffee or a beer? Or maybe something to eat? We’ve got plenty of food—cake, snacks, you name it. We were just catching up when you walked in. Her gaze softened slightly, but her tone grew firm, carrying a weight of careful authority. “A lot has changed. Bri and Brad are back together, and they’re having a baby. And we are all happy for them and supportive, you hear?”
She turned to Beau, her expression softening as she crouched slightly to his level. “Oh dang, look at you! Getting so big.” She pulled him into a gentle hug, her voice light and reassuring. “How about we make you a plate and one for Briony, and you both can watch cartoons in the living room? How does that sound, sweetheart?”
Jackson exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening as he ground his teeth, the tension radiating from him like a coiled spring ready to snap. His fists curled briefly before he forced them open, the motion slow and deliberate, as if trying to keep himself in check.
“Ah yeah?” His voice was flat, unreadable—until his eyes flicked to the ultrasound photo again, and something darkened behind his gaze. “Well, how ‘bout that.”
Briar Rose, visibly nervous but calm, met his stare directly. “Jackson, I was going to tell you—I swear, we were going to sit down and talk soon. Things just happened a bit faster. Press drama got to me and I collapsed, just got released today and …well … yeah.”
Brad braced instinctively, his muscles tightening as the air in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension.
Jackson let out a sharp, guttural breath, his voice slicing through the silence like a whip. “Well, I’ll be damned to hell and back!”
The words were raw and laced with disbelief and fury, echoing in the stunned quiet of the room.
Before anyone could react, Jackson moved. His boots hit the floor with a force that seemed to reverberate through the house as he lunged forward. Chase stepped in, his hands coming up to intercept, but Jackson shoved him aside with a strength born of pure emotion. Chase stumbled backward, his balance faltering—until Connor, quick as a flash, caught him, steadying his father with a firm grip.
Jackson’s hands collided with Brad’s chest, the impact sending him staggering back into the wall by the windows, his shoulder hitting the surface with a dull thud.
But Jackson wasn’t done.
“You son of a bitch!” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous, vibrating with the kind of anger that could only come from betrayal. His hands fisted in the front of Brad’s shirt, twisting the fabric with a grip that spoke of barely restrained violence.
With a sharp, almost effortless motion, Jackson spun Brad around, the two flipping positions as Jackson shoved him toward the doorway he’d just entered through. Brad stumbled, his feet skidding against the floor as he struggled to catch himself, his hand slamming against the doorframe for support.
The confrontation spilled fully into the hallway now, the tension crackling like a live wire, ready to ignite.
Connor was already moving, his posture tense, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Jackson, that’s enough!” he started to intervene, but Iris was faster. With a sharp grab into Jackson’s crotch—earning a strangled groan—she propelled him backward. A few swift steps and a firm shove later, he stumbled into the guest bathroom, where she followed and slammed the door shut behind them, locking it.
Jackson immediately lurched for the handle, but Iris threw herself against it, holding her ground, eyes locked onto his with unwavering defiance.
“Try it,” she warned, voice low and deliberate, “and my knee goes exactly where my hand just was. You’re welcome for the freebie, by the way. That one’s on the house—next one’s gonna cost you.”
“Outta the way, Iris!” Jackson barked, his voice rough and cutting. Frustration radiated off him, his tone carrying the weight of a man who’d had enough and wasn’t about to ask twice.
“Fat chance,” she shot back, unimpressed. “Touch me, and I will lay you out, I swear it. There are exactly three men on this planet who can at least marginally try to tell me what to do, and you sure as hell aren’t one of them. My dad, Connor, and Jasper. Anybody else can try—though they’ll likely regret it.”
Jackson exhaled sharply through his nose, fists clenching and unclenching at his sides. “Iris—”
“Jackson,” she snapped, cutting him off. “Look, I get it you’re mad and sad, got regrets, we all screw up, it sucks, and I was so not gonna get involved in any of this, but when you start ruining parties and shoving my daddy around you and I are having a problem. Where you come from, it’s cornbread and chicken, men are ‘real men,’ their women are their property for life and all that rugged cowboy nonsense, but listen up: real men don’t abandon the woman they claim to love—the mother of their children—just because they suddenly miss roaming the prairie like John Wayne. I’ll admit, I like you, still, you can be a lot of fun, but I would have never even considered dating a guy like you, I was admittedly one of those saying it wouldn’t last and looky here, you proved me right, you asshole. My sister worshipped you. She left everything behind to live in your little Neanderthal cabin with horses and tumbleweeds, which, for the record, still creeps me the hell out. And you’re telling me she managed that shit for you, but you couldn’t hack living on a luxury horse estate with her? Are you for real?!” Iris scoffed. “You’re outta your damn mind, brosef. You did what you did, you want what you want, and you just ditched Briar Rose, nobody in this family understood that, still don’t, but fine, you do you, you’re a grown man. Nobody in this family has even let that tarnish the way we still accept you as part of the family. But you are NOT starting to shove my father or punch around on Brad and that is non-negotiable. Cos look, the way I was raised, I don’t need a man to fight my battles for me. I will do it myself. Even at six months pregnant I will. Don’t fuck with me Jackson, I mean it. I am not Briar Rose.”
Jackson’s jaw tightened, his voice laced with annoyance and sadness as he drawled. “It ain’t that simple.”
“Lemme make it THAT simple for you then,” she countered. “You loved her, no doubt, probably still do, I give you that, but fact is you didn’t love her enough. Brad does. Always has. I was Team Jackson once, but guess what? You let all of us down. I grew up with Brad, as did Briar Rose and Jasper and we all know what he is and isn’t. We were all wrong about you, but we are not wrong about him. So, in other words, you had your chance, you blew it, not once, but twice even, and now it’s over, you’re out and Brad’s in again. So, you are going to be fucking hap-hap-happy and jolly about it and support that shit. Copy?”
His eyes flickered with something—frustration, regret, maybe both. He let out a slow, heavy breath, like the weight of it had been sittin’ on his chest for years.
“Nah, Iris, you got it wrong. I didn’t just let her down—I let myself down.” His voice was rougher now, thick with something unspoken, something that cut deeper than he was ready to admit. “But she can’t just turn ‘round and go runnin’ back to him like nothin’ ever happened. That jus’ ain’t right either.” His jaw tightened, the words bitter in his mouth. “And ain’t he still married?”
“Not your business anymore, remember? When you decided roaming your Chestnut Ridge ranch with my nephew was more important than my sister and my niece you forfeited all rights to stick your nose in her business. And I am here to remind you and hold you to that. And what do you want now, it’s been what, nine, ten months since your divorce? You think she just hangs around moping till you grace her with your presence for some romantic weekend before you fuck off to your ranch again? What universe are you living in with that BS?!”
A sharp rap against the door interrupted the charged silence.
“Everything alright in there?” Connor’s voice held the kind of wary concern only a big brother could muster.
Before Iris could answer, Jasper’s voice followed, laced with amusement. “Should we call an ambulance or is this already a case for CSI? Jackson will be sorely missed.”
Iris scoffed, throwing the door a pointed look. “Get lost, guys, I got this. Just having a friendly heart-to-heart with my EX-brother-in-law.”
Jasper laughed, but wisely didn’t push further, they heard mumbling of voices which quietly dissipated towards the dine-in kitchen.
Jackson exhaled slowly, rubbing his hand down his face like he was wiping away the weight of the conversation. “What do you want from me, Iris?”
She folded her arms. “To hear me and to remember your own choices, Jackson and to let her be happy. Brad’s not my personal taste in a man, then again, neither are you, no offense, but he is a good guy, Jackson. I read people for a living. He may seem boring as balls, maybe he is, but he is solid and gives Briar Rose something you couldn’t: stability. She and Briony need that. You get what I’m saying? Are you reading me?”
Jackson exhaled slowly, the kind of sigh that felt like it carried miles of dust and regret. His shoulders sagged slightly as he pulled away, shaking his head like he was trying to clear out the weariness settling deep in his bones.
“Yeah… yeah. Alright. Okay. Jeeze, woman. Ya wrangle a man like he’s some damn loose livestock.” He let out a slow, weary breath, shaking his head again. “Hell, if ya ever get tired of law, might as well try yer hand at ranchin’.”
His voice was low, rough, and worn, drawling the words out like they took more effort than he had left in him.
Iris smirked, her sharpness softened by a flicker of affection. “So tempting, but I can contain myself.”
She nudged him lightly, a gesture that was more steadying than teasing, her hand brushing his arm as if to remind him he wasn’t alone in this. With a deliberate motion, she unlocked the bathroom door she’d been blocking, the click of the latch breaking the tension in the air.
“Come on,” she said, her tone gentler now, though still firm. Linking her arm through his, she guided him out, her presence grounding him as they stepped back into the hallway.
Jackson let out another slow breath, his boots scuffing against the floor as he glanced toward the living room. His jaw tightened briefly, but the fight had drained from his posture, leaving only a quiet resignation.
Iris gave his arm a light squeeze, her voice low enough for only him to hear. “Storm’s over, cowboy. Let’s keep it that way.”
When they stepped out of the bathroom together, and rejoined the others, the room hummed with forced normalcy—people suddenly pretending to be busy with anything other than what had just happened. Except Jasper.
“Did my wife just literally grab ya by the balls? Not sure whether to be jealous or laugh here.”
Jackson shook his head, suppressing a chuckle. “Shut up, Jas,” he muttered, bumping his shoulder against him as he passed.
Jackson made his way toward a seat by the window, but Iris yanked him back before he could settle.
“Hey, Cowboy. Aren’t you forgetting something?” she challenged, arms crossed.
Jackson groaned, half-exasperated, half-wary. “What now, woman?”
Iris didn’t hesitate. “Now you will apologize to my dad.” She shoved him forward without ceremony.
Jackson sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Jeez—Fine.” His gaze shifted toward Chase, posture stiff but grudgingly compliant. “Mr. Cameron, Chase—sorry for manhandlin’ ya. Didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
Chase lifted a brow, arms crossed. “Uh-huh. And that sounded so heartfelt, too.”
Jackson huffed, rolling his shoulders. “Would ya rather I serenade it? Maybe get down on one knee?”
“No kid, that’s fine. We’re good. All forgotten.”
Quiet snickers rippled through the room, barely restrained.
Iris lifted a brow. “And?”
Jackson frowned. “What now?”
Iris pointed directly at Brad. “Brad.”
Brad simply raised his hands, voice even. “Don’t worry about it.”
Iris wasn’t having it. “No! He’s going to worry about it—and he’s going to apologize.”
Jackson rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “Fuckin’ hell. Fine. Sorry, Brad, for the nudge.”
Brad smirked slightly, unfazed. “No problem.”
Jackson gestured broadly, throwing his hands up. “Can I sit now, or do ya got more asses for me to pucker up to?”
Iris scoffed. “No, you have apologized nicely, cowboy, you may sit.”
“How kind!”
Shaking his head, Jackson finally sank into his seat beside Jasper, who leaned in with a smirk. “Now you see why I’m scared of her.”
Jackson snorted, his drawl cutting through. “No kiddin’. She’s got more grit than a bull in a briar patch.”
Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. “You got that right, cowboy. Knowing her she’d probably ride that bull and come back for seconds. That’s my girl, she’s fiercy, unafraid, addictive, especially when she is being sweet. If you knew Iris the way I do, you’d understand. She’s got just the right mix of sweet and spicy—I like that.”
“Yah, you enjoy. I’d be worryin’ ‘bout wakin’ up with a knife in my eye because I left a sock on the floor or somethin’ if I had a woman like that.”
“Oh, you should know by now Iris doesn’t bother with knives—she goes straight for the balls. A very hands-on type approach.”
The warmth inside Seaglass Haven was thick—voices blending, laughter slowly resurfacing, the tension lifting as conversation moved away from the shock of Brad and Bri’s announcement.
But Brad felt it. The lingering unease.
Jackson wasn’t loud or brash tonight, but his presence was hard to miss. Brad felt it every time he caught Jackson’s gaze, those sharp eyes burning into him from across the room. It wasn’t constant, but it was there—unspoken and impossible to ignore.
Jackson’s expression was unreadable, but Brad couldn’t shake the feeling of being sized up, judged, and silently challenged all at once.
Bri entertained everyone with fun, sweet anecdotes about how she and Brad met in Brindleton Bay and reconnected. The laughter, the easy warmth between them—it was impossible to miss the undeniable chemistry they shared, even though they kept the conversation child-appropriate.
Brad felt Jackson’s gaze again—subtle but unwavering.
And when Bri casually mentioned the baby, Brad knew Jackson’s silence wasn’t going to last much longer.
As if on cue, Jackson threw down his napkin, pushed back his chair with a sharp scrape, and stood. His eyes lingered on Brad for just a moment longer, piercing and hard, before he stormed out into the backyard, his boots hitting the floor like thunder.
Beau sighed, shifting in his seat, his fingers curling around the rim of his glass. His tone was low, his drawl unmistakable. “I dunno what’s goin’ on,” he muttered, glancing at his mother. “But this sure as hell don’t feel right.”
His twin sister Briony, who had slipped back into the room earlier, didn’t seem fazed. Her hands fidgeted with the hem of her cardigan as she chimed in, her tone breezy and bright. “Well, obviously Mommy’s having a baby with Brad. We’re getting a little brother, Beau! Isn’t that fun? I think it’s fun. The baby is gonna be like my doll, but, you know, real. I am gonna dress him up and put him in my stroller and drive him around the park … too bad it’s a boy, I’d love to braid his hair, but I’ll make do.”
Beau turned his head slowly, leveling her with a long, measured look. He didn’t move for a moment, just stared at her like he was chewing on her words, trying to decide if they were worth swallowing. Then—with a faint shrug, his drawl drew out the words.
“Cool, I reckon. But I still like horse babies better. Least they don’t cry none. Human babies are always bawlin’, Ana used to. And sounds to me like yer fixin’ to turn our brother into one’a them city-slickers. Reckon we oughta keep him at the ranch some too, so I can make a real man outta him ‘fore you ruin him.”
Briony, clearly unimpressed with his lackluster enthusiasm, rolled her eyes in an exaggerated way and folded her arms. “Whatever. I think it’s exciting. You should too.”
Briony paused, tilting her head to watch her brother consider her words, her fidgeting slowing down. “Yeah?” she posed the question, her tone less chipper now, almost subdued.
Beau sighed, mirroring her. “Yeah.”
Briony giggled softly, then added another, lighter “Yeah.” The sound bubbled out of her, and before long, Beau cracked a small, reluctant grin.
The two of them dissolved into quiet giggles, their heads leaning together like a pair of conspirators as the heaviness of the moment melted away, if only for now.
Connor, watching the exchange, stood, his expression calm but determined. He gave the family a quick glance—a subtle signal he’d handle the other elephant in the room.
“I’ll go talk to him,” he muttered, clearly meaning Jackson, the resolve in his tone leaving no room for argument.
Straight Talk in the Backyard
Connor found Jackson standing near the edge of the property, hands on his hips, his breath coming in sharp bursts.
The younger man turned as Connor approached, his blue eyes flashing with frustration.
“Y’gonna give me the brotherly advice speech?” Jackson muttered, still tense.
Connor snorted. “No. I figured I’d give you a beer and tell you not to commit a felony.”
Jackson let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head.
Connor stepped beside him, handing him a cold bottle from the outdoor fridge before leaning against the railing.
“Just say it, Jackson.” Connor asked after a moment.
Jackson exhaled slow, his voice low and raw, thick with frustration. “Whatcha want me to say? That I done went and screwed up? Hell, even a blind mule could see that clear enough. Ain’t no need for me to spell it out. Or maybe ya want me to say how much I hate what I just saw, how it burned me clean through? It’s messed up six ways to Sunday, and there ain’t a damn thing I can do to unscrew it. It’s done. I’m out.”
Connor nodded slowly. “Yeah. It is, and yeah, you did. Now you gotta deal with it.”
Silence.
Jackson turned, jaw tightening. “But I did love her. I still—” He cut himself off, shaking his head.
Connor gave a slow shrug. “I believe you. But Jackson, there comes a time in a man’s life when the choices he made catch up. Yours have. Now you’ve got new choices—you either learn to live with it and keep going the way you were, or you walk away and never look back. But if you do that, you lose your daughter.”
He let the weight of that sink in before continuing, his voice steady, firm.
“We’re your family, kid. I promised your dad I’d take care of you, and I will—if you let me. But I need you to suck it up and be a man about this now. You’re right. It’s done. No going back. And I need you to be okay with that.”
Jackson sighed, gripping the bottle tighter.
After a long moment, he finally muttered, “I ain’t gonna fight him, if that’s what yer worried ’bout.”
Connor smirked slightly, his tone light but steady. “I’m not worried about anything here, Jackson. But good—saves me the trouble of pulling you off the guy and reminding you that you’re not invincible. I know you’re big and tough, cowboy, but don’t make me prove I’m bigger and tougher. You wouldn’t like it.”
As Jackson exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair, Connor reached out and gave him a firm clap on the shoulder. The gesture was solid, grounding—just enough to break the tension without overstepping.
Connor’s expression softened as he leaned against the railing beside him. “Look, I get it. This is hard. But you’re not alone in it, alright? You’ve got people who care about you—me included. So don’t go shutting everyone out just because it hurts. You’re better than that.”
Jackson nodded faintly, his grip tightening on the bottle in his hand.
And just like that—the worst had passed.
For now.
After a while, Connor went back inside, but not before giving Jackson’s shoulder one last reassuring squeeze. Jackson remained, staring out at the horizon, lost in thought.
A Conversation Between Rivals
He stayed there all through the remainder of the casual meal, past dessert and even when the family collectively decided to move into the living room for some different light entertainment.
Through the large windows, past the glow of the garden lanterns, Jackson hadn’t moved.
Brad knew what that meant.
Connor had gone out, spoken with him, returned. But Jackson remained—hands braced against the railing, shoulders tense, his back to the house like he was trying to convince himself to leave but couldn’t.
Brad exhaled, rubbing his jaw.
And then—he grabbed two beers from the fridge.
Ignoring the way his pulse ticked up, Brad stepped outside, the cooling air biting against his skin as he made his way down the stone path.
Jackson stiffened immediately, sensing him before Brad even spoke.
Brad took slow, measured steps—stopping just far enough to keep breathing room, but close enough to offer the bottle.
Jackson eyed it.
Then—after a beat—he took it.
Silence stretched.
Finally, Brad cleared his throat. “Figured you might still need someone to yell at. Maybe even land a punch or two. I am here. Have at it.”
Jackson let out a sharp huff, shaking his head. “I’m done with yellin’. And I ain’t layin’ a hand on ya neither. Not ‘cause I don’t wanna—trust me, I’d love to knock ya clean into next week—but the fallout’d be too much. My little girl might see, and that just ain’t happenin’.”
Brad gave a slow nod, cracking open his own bottle. “So… we talk instead?”
Jackson scoffed, his tone sharp and dismissive. “About what, Cunningham? Got nothin’ to say to ya.” He shifted his weight, stance rigid, as if daring Brad to push further. The tension hung heavy, unspoken words lingering in the air.
Brad swallowed thickly, his voice measured, deliberate. “About how I know this isn’t easy for you. I’ve been where you are, and I understand how it feels. And I am genuinely sorry you’re going through it. I wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy. Losing Bri before—it left me numb for a long time. I know you must hate me now. I wish you didn’t.”
Jackson’s jaw flexed at that—his fingers tightening around the glass, knuckles whitening.
For a moment, Brad thought he might still swing.
Then—Jackson exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face before taking a slow sip of the beer.
“I don’t hate ya,” Jackson muttered after a long beat, voice lower now.
Brad let out a slow breath. “That’s a relief.”
Jackson scoffed. “I mean, I should. I could. Might’ve once. Or maybe I still do somewhere in the back o’ my mind.”
Brad didn’t argue.
Jackson exhaled, shaking his head. “But honestly? I think I just hate myself more.”
Brad studied him carefully. “I understand. I felt the same way about myself when… well, you remember the story. Hindsight is always twenty-twenty.”
Jackson let out a humorless laugh. “That’s puttin’ it mild. Call it what it is, Cunningham. I fucked up bad, and it worked out well for ya.”
Silence again.
Then—Jackson finally turned to face him, assessing him directly, his blue eyes sharp.
“I know ya love her. Always have. Never stopped. I always knew that. Jus’ like I always knew she still had ya tucked away in the back o’ her mind. Saw it every damn time you showed up. When I was laid up in the hospital, when we ran into each other at my daughter’s check-up. Always you. Always Bri. Shouldn’t be so surprised this is how it ends.”
Brad’s chest tightened.
Jackson nodded once, as if coming to terms with it. “Yeah, Brad, I always knew she still held a torch for ya. Never stopped. Didn’t like it, but what can a man do. Just for a while there, she loved me more. But I went and wrecked that and now she loves you more than me and I probably won’t be able to change her mind again. Done it once, thinkin’ that bridge I burned. Dammit.”
Brad didn’t speak—because what could he say to that?
Jackson let out another breath, tilting his head toward the sky, his voice quieter now, weighed down with regret. “I just wish… I didn’t screw it up so bad. Thought maybe I could find a way to win her back one last time, make her stay, without one of us losin’ ourselves. Tried livin’ here in the big city—it turned me into a man I didn’t even recognize.
Started likin’ booze a lil too much, ‘specially when Bri was off tourin’ for her music. Then one day, I realized… I didn’t just like it—I was needin’ it. Had to get out ‘fore I turned into my dad, my uncle, my granddad… men who couldn’t ever claw their way back up from the bottom of the bottle. It ruined ‘em. It ruined ‘em. And I couldn’t let it ruin me, too. I had to think of my boy. That ain’t the kinda example I can be settin’ for him.”
He shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate. “There’s a reason my old man went back to Henfordshire. Lived his entire life in Chestnut Ridge but after he came back to take it over so I could live here in the city he realized he couldn’t be the man he needed to be there anymore. That farm he built with my stepmom Izzy—that’s where she keeps him on the straight and narrow, keeps him whole.
But me? Yeah, I belong to that land. Chestnut Ridge, Kershaw Ranch—that’s where I’m meant to be, nowhere else. Only… my little girl can’t be there with me. Kills her. Allergies, ya see. Needs a shot just to come visit her daddy and her brother.” He paused, his voice lowering to almost a whisper. “Life’s cruel like that. That’s why I can’t see how to get my little family back together. Well, reckon it’s too late now anyway, seein’ how ya, well …” Jackson followed up with some under-his-breath cursing.
He followed up with some under-his-breath cursing, frustration spilling out in jagged, barely audible fragments.
Brad shifted slightly, leaning against the railing, his movements deliberate as he mirrored Jackson’s posture. His voice was calm, layered with understanding. “Life can be cruel, Jackson. It doesn’t hand us the choices we want—just the ones we’re meant to have. I can’t pretend to know what it feels like to lose what you’re holding onto, but I can see how hard it’s been for you. And if there is one thing I do know it’s how it felt to lose Bri.
No offense, but you and Bri… you were just too different. Two completely different worlds colliding. You loved her. Anyone could see that. You gave it everything you had, and maybe it wasn’t enough, but for what it’s worth you didn’t fail her, Jackson. You tried. She tried. And sometimes… that’s all anyone can do.”
Brad hesitated, his gaze drifting toward the horizon before continuing, his tone softening further. “As for your kids—it’s clear you’d do anything for them. And that means more than anything else, especially to Briony and Beau. I know what it’s like to grow up wondering if your dad loves you. Mine never said it, not once. Maybe he did, maybe he didn’t, but I never felt it. I was just a pawn in his game of legacy chess.
Your kids though, they don’t have to wonder. Briony knows her daddy loves her even if she doesn’t want to live on the ranch, and Beau? That boy’s clearly already chosen to follow in your footsteps out of his own volition. That’s worth more than a dad who comes home every night and shows up at the occasional recital. What you have with them is rare, Jackson. Maybe this isn’t the life you imagined, but it’s your way forward and it is incredibly precious. Through all this I have been trying to be a great dad to my children, but watching Briony and Beau I realized I still failed them, just hoping it’s not too late to fix it and be more like you and Bri with them.”
Jackson studied him, his sharp gaze softening slightly, searching for sincerity in Brad’s expression. He read between the lines, catching the weight of Brad’s own regrets.
Then—he smirked faintly, the tension easing just a fraction. “Ya still afraid I’ll hit ya, ain’t ya?”
Brad didn’t miss a beat. “Absolutely mortified.”
Jackson actually laughed this time—a short, rough sound, but real.
After a moment, he lifted his bottle in Brad’s direction—a quiet truce.
Brad lifted his own, the gesture simple but meaningful.
And just like that—the conversation ended. Not in resolution, but in mutual understanding. And maybe something more important—mutual respect.
EchoesOfLegacy 