Brindleton Bay
Near the Cunningham Estate
The car purred softly as Brad turned onto the private, tree-lined drive. Briar Rose glanced out the window, her fingers resting lightly on the armrest, a nervous excitement bubbling in her chest like a girl on her way to prom. The early afternoon sun filtered through the branches, creating a golden mosaic of light that danced across the pristine pavement.
Just as she let out a slow breath, Brad’s hand slipped onto hers, his fingers warm and steady as he gave a reassuring squeeze. She turned to him, her nerves flickering behind her eyes, but his smile was effortless—calm, certain. It’s going to be fine, it said without words. The simple gesture grounded her, easing the tightness in her chest just enough to let her inhale deeper.
In the backseat, Briony was glued to the glass, practically buzzing with energy. “Mommy, it’s so pretty!” she gushed, her voice pitching with excitement. On the other side of the backseat, Beau sat with his cowboy hat tipped low, appearing unfazed. But when Briony let out an enthusiastic gasp—“Horses! Look, Mommy! BoBo, look! Over there, horses!”—he shifted.
Peeking out beneath the brim of his hat, Beau caught sight of the stables in the distance. For a moment, he hesitated, then leaned closer, sliding over to his sister’s side for a better view. “I didn’t know ya got horses, Mister,” he said, his tone cautious but tinged with interest as he kept his eyes fixed on the stables.
Briar Rose smiled, glancing at Brad before turning back to her kids. “Oh yeah, Brad knows his way around horses. His family’s had them since forever—I think we were about your age when we first met. We even went to school together.” There was still a hint of surprise in her voice, as if the past was finally catching up to the present.
Brad smiled knowingly, catching the kids’ reactions in the rearview mirror. He slowed the car as the gates came into view—a magnificent structure of wrought iron flanked by tall, polished marble pillars that stood like silent guardians. As the gates swung open with a soft hum, the estate stretched before them, grand and sprawling.
The circular driveway came into focus, and just past its center near the walkway to the front door stood a luminous white marble sign, its elegant engravings glowing in the daylight. Briony’s sharp eyes caught it first.
“Mommy, look!” she chirped, pressing her palms to the window. “The house has your name! Well… kinda! See? Rosebriar!”
Briar Rose’s breath caught as she leaned forward, her heart skipping. Her gaze swept over the sign. Rosebriar Haven, the engraving read in graceful letters, with the words A Cunningham Estate elegantly placed beneath in more subdued font. It was stunning, symbolic—and overwhelming.
She turned slowly toward Brad, her eyes searching his face. “Braddy… did you rename it for me?” Her voice was quiet, edged with emotion—not demanding, just searching, as if trying to grasp the weight of the gesture.
He brought the car to a smooth stop and unbuckled, giving her a soft, knowing smile and a wink. Without a word, he stepped out, walking around the car as the children remained riveted to the windows, faces pressed against the glass like curious little flies.
Brad opened Briar Rose’s door first. With the effortless grace of a gentleman from a bygone era, he extended his hand to her, his posture poised and deliberate, as if the simple act of assisting her was something sacred. He had always been this way—not performative, not exaggerated, but genuinely considerate in a way that made it impossible not to bask in it.
She slid her hand into his, the warmth of his touch grounding her, easing the last remnants of nervousness from her chest. As he helped her step out of the car, she glanced up at him, a softness settling in her expression.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice light, affectionate.
Brad’s answering smile was warm. “Always.”
She leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to his cheek—quick, but meaningful. A quiet appreciation meant just for him. He met her gaze, a flicker of knowing behind his eyes, the moment uninterrupted by anything but the comfortable hum of their understanding.
Brad turned to the back door next, opening it to free the kids. He offered his hand to Briony just as he had done with her mother moments before. With the flair of someone who clearly relished the moment, she placed her small hand in his and curtsied with exaggerated drama.
“Thank you, Mylord!” she declared, giggling as she held her chin high like a proper princess.
Brad chuckled, playing along as he dipped his head slightly. “Your Ladyship,” he said with a mock-serious tone that sent her into fits of laughter.
Beau slid out next, adjusting the brim of his hat as he stepped onto the driveway. His gaze swept over the property, lingering on the horses in the distance. Briony’s eyes followed his, lighting up instantly.
“Mom, can we go see them?” she asked, bouncing on the balls of her feet, barely containing her excitement.
Briar Rose smiled, glancing at Brad before turning back to her children. “Soon, sweetheart. Let’s get settled first—there will be plenty of time for that. I am sure we’ll get a tour of the entire property.”
Beau nodded, taking in the scene a little longer before letting out a quiet huff of approval. It was different, but he wasn’t against it.
Briar Rose placed a steadying hand on each of their shoulders, grounding them, guiding them forward as they stepped into the next chapter—one moment at a time. The grand double doors of the estate creaked open just as she did, the sound punctuating the shift between old and new.
Two figures emerged—a boy and a girl, impeccably dressed yet relaxed in their movements, the air of familiarity shaping their confident strides.
Graham, at twelve, carried himself with a quiet composure, his blond curls catching the light as he stepped forward. His gaze was watchful, taking in the newcomers with measured curiosity. Lauren, a few years younger, was livelier in her approach—her smile tentative but warm, her pace quicker as she followed her brother down the steps.
Brad’s voice carried easily over the space between them. “Graham, Lauren. Come say hello.”
With an effortless familiarity, he rested a hand on Graham’s shoulder, tousling his curls briefly before settling a reassuring touch on Lauren’s back—a gesture both instinctive and full of quiet devotion.
“These are my kids,” Brad said, his voice carrying the undeniable warmth of a father who cherished them beyond words. “Graham, my oldest—my sharp-eyed thinker, and Lauren, my sweet angel.”
He let the moment breathe, his gaze lingering on them for just a beat longer, as if anchoring the unspoken truth—that no matter how life shifted, they would always be his greatest pride. Then, he turned slightly, nodding toward Briar Rose, standing with Briony and Beau beside her.
“And this is Bri. Briar Rose.” His voice softened, carrying something unspoken, something significant. “She’s very important to me.”
Lauren shifted slightly, glancing between her father and Briar Rose. Her lips parted as if to speak, hesitation flickering—but then, after a beat, she found the words.
“You’re so pretty!” It wasn’t shy, exactly, but thoughtful—the kind of honest observation only a ten-year-old would offer without pretense.
Briar Rose blinked before a warm smile spread across her face. “Thank you, sweetheart.” Her voice was gentle, genuinely touched.
Then, Lauren brightened, her whole expression lighting up as realization struck. “Wait… oh my gawd! You’re the Briar Rose Cameron!” She shot a glance at her father, then back at Bri, eyes wide with delight. “I’m, like, a total Briar Belle! I love your music—I know all the words to Golden Thread and Evermore Echo! Actually, to ALL your songs! Since I was like six, I’ve been a member of the ‘Cameron Nation’ fan club! At ballet class, we’re literally studying the dance choreography from Islands in Motion! I can’t believe dad didn’t tell us YOU were the Bri he likes! I can’t believe you are here at our house! My friends are so not gonna believe this! I think I am gonna die.”
Brad let out a chuckle, shaking his head affectionately. “I was waiting for that. Yes, Bri, my daughter might well be your biggest fan. I am gonna call that surprise a success, awaiting nomination for the ‘best dad ever’ award.”
Lauren turned toward Graham, nudging him lightly. “Even Graham loves your music.”
Immediately, Graham looked off to the side, the slightest hint of color creeping onto his cheeks. “No, I don’t!” He flicked a quick glance at Beau—casual, assessing—before shrugging. “I mean, it’s alright. It’s kinda… girl music.” His voice was measured, indifferent—the classic twelve-year-old attempt at not overcommitting to enthusiasm.
Then, as if realizing he needed to reinforce his cool detachment, he scoffed. “Besides, everyone knows Solstice Midnight has the most overrated bridge. The key change right before the last chorus? Totally unnecessary.”
A beat of silence.
Lauren’s grin stretched wider, eyes gleaming with victory. “Oh yeah? And how would you know that if you don’t listen to it?”
Graham’s expression barely shifted, but his shoulders stiffened—like he could physically reel his words back in.
Brad chuckled, shaking his head. “You know, for someone who doesn’t listen to Bri’s music, you sure have some strong opinions on song structure.”
Beau, ever observant, tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he simply murmured, “Uh huh.” The single phrase carried just enough ambiguity to leave Graham wondering—was that agreement? Was it judgment? He wasn’t sure. Beau wasn’t about to clarify.
Lauren rolled her eyes, completely unimpressed. “You totally like it. He does! When we go somewhere and dad let’s me pick the music, Graham totally sings along too! You just don’t wanna admit it.”
Brad smirked, leaning slightly toward Bri as the exchange played out. His voice was low, meant just for her. “Yeah, I breed Bri fans. It’s in their DNA.”
Briar Rose snorted a chuckle, shaking her head, amused but not at all surprised.
Then, she turned back to Graham, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of her lips as she met his guarded gaze. “I’ll take alright. Solid review, handsome. Appreciate it.”
The moment the word handsome left her lips, Graham visibly stiffened, his ears turning bright red before the color spread across his face.
“Uh—yeah. You’re… welcome.” His voice was awkwardly clipped, like he wasn’t sure what to do with the sudden attention. He shifted slightly, resisting the urge to fidget, but the way his shoulders tensed gave him away.
Brad took it all in with pure amusement, shaking his head as he clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder. “That’s a look, bud.”
Graham exhaled sharply—whether in frustration or reluctant acceptance, it was hard to tell.
Then, Brad leaned in slightly, his voice carrying a quiet smirk. “And that is why we don’t lie. Makes things embarrassing.”
Brad let the moment linger, his amusement settling into something quieter, something knowing. He gave Graham’s shoulder one last reassuring pat before straightening, effortlessly shifting gears.
Then, turning toward Bri’s children, he gestured lightly.
“Speaking of things you can admit to liking—” he gestured toward Briar Rose’s children, his voice easy, inviting. “These two are Briony and Beau. Twins. Pretty cool, right?” He paused, letting the introduction land. “They’ll be staying with us for a few days. They’re from San Sequoia, and just like you two they are currently enjoying summer break and decided to spend some of that with us. Isn’t that exciting?”
“They’re from San Sequoia. I am from Ches’nut Ridge.” Beau drawled almost instantly.
Beau’s correction came swiftly, his voice carrying the faintest hint of defiance, a need to set the record straight. Brad hesitated only a fraction before nodding, his expression unfaltering.
“Of course, Chestnut Ridge, my mistake,” he conceded smoothly, his tone appreciative rather than dismissive. “Thanks for setting me straight.”
Lauren was the first to step forward, her smile growing brighter as she focused on Briony. “Hi! I love your dress!” she said, her voice bubbling with excitement.
“Thanks! I love yours too,” Briony beamed, already warming to the attention. “I love pretty clothes!” She twirled slightly, the skirt fanning out as she swayed from side to side. Lauren nodded quickly, her curls bouncing, matching Briony’s energy with an eager grin.
“Me too! Wanna see my closet? I had a growth spurt, so I got a bunch of new outfits!” Lauren said, her eyes sparkling.
Briony clapped her hands, practically vibrating with excitement. “I love growth spurts! Mommy?” She turned toward Briar Rose, eyes wide with hopeful anticipation.
Bri looked at Brad who nodded “Of course, go on.”
Briony and Lauren dashed off, giggling and spinning as they made their way toward the house. Beau hesitated, torn between his instinct to keep his distance and the unfamiliar tug of curiosity. His hat sat low over his eyes as he watched Graham with careful scrutiny.
Graham seemed to catch the hesitation, studying Beau in return before giving a small nod, hands casually tucked into his pockets. “Cool hat.”
“Thanks.” Beau’s response was simple, measured.
“So, you like horses then?” Graham asked, his tone even and polite—but edged with genuine curiosity.
Beau hesitated, glancing between Graham and the horse pasture. “Guess I do,” he said finally, his drawl slow and deliberate. “Back home, we got plenty of ’em. My Pa’s got a horse ranch.”
Graham gave a small smile, his guard easing just slightly. “Oh cool. I’m not much of a rider myself, but I like sailing. Ever tried it? It’s really fun.”
Beau snorted softly, adjusting his hat. “Ain’t got enough water for that where I live. But we got swimmin’ holes. There’s one by our house with a waterfall. Now that’s real fun.” His voice held quiet pride, his drawl unhurried.
Graham nodded, as if filing that away. “Sounds fun. We don’t have waterfalls around here, but we’ve got a pool out back. My dad and I started building a treehouse. Wanna see it?”
Beau lifted his chin slightly, expression neutral—but something in his posture shifted. The corners of his mouth twitched upward, though he said nothing at first. His eyes flicked briefly to Briar Rose, searching for her unspoken approval. She met him with a soft, encouraging smile and nodded. That seemed to settle it.
Beau finally said, “Sure, why not,” and the boys headed toward the house.
Briar Rose turned to Brad, a teasing grin playing on her lips. “A tree house? You? No offense, but … whaaaat?” she giggled.
Brad laughed, a low, self-deprecating sound. “Well, as Graham said, we started it. I have very concrete doubts it’ll ever be finished unless I call in outside help. Truth is, I’m hopeless with tools—two left hands when it comes to that sort of thing.”
Briar Rose chuckled, her tone light and playful. “Now, that I’d pay to see. Dr. Bradford Cunningham, heir to an empire, battling it out with a hammer and nails.”
Brad rolled his eyes good-naturedly but couldn’t hide his smile. “Laugh all you want, but at least I’m trying.”
He paused, his gaze settling back on the retreating figures of Graham and Beau as they disappeared inside. “Looks like they’re off to a good start. Everyone’s getting along, no drama, no meltdowns. That’s one worry less,” Brad said quietly, his voice filled with warmth.
Briar Rose smiled, her heart full as she watched the children—her children—take their first steps toward blending into something new, something whole.
As the children disappeared into the house, their laughter fading into the grand halls, Briar Rose lingered outside with Brad, the ocean breeze brushing against her skin. The moment felt suspended, the estate’s grandeur wrapping around them like a cocoon.
Brad turned to her, offering his arm with a gentlemanly flourish. “Shall we?” he asked, his tone warm and inviting.
But Briar Rose had other ideas. Smiling mischievously, she reached up, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him down to her. The kiss was intense, charged with all the emotions swirling between them—love, longing, and the thrill of rediscovery. Brad froze for a heartbeat, startled, before leaning into her, his hand instinctively sliding to her waist as he deepened the kiss.
Neither of them noticed Whitaker until the sound of gravel crunching underfoot broke the spell. The staff member was still finishing up with the luggage, his movements deliberate but clearly aimed at avoiding attention. He glanced up briefly, catching sight of the PDA, and his expression flickered with something between surprise and discomfort.
“Ah—pardon me,” Whitaker muttered, his voice barely audible as he attempted to slip past them unnoticed, his gaze fixed firmly ahead.
Briar Rose pulled back, her cheeks flushed, and Brad let out a low chuckle, his blue eyes sparkling with amusement. “Poor Whitaker, he definitely isn’t used to this. Not in all the years he’s worked for us has he seen more than a quick peck in passing. Nothing like this, ever,” he murmured, his tone teasing.
Briar Rose laughed, the sound light and genuine, as Brad placed his hand gently on her back. “Well, for his sake he better get used to it quick. Come on,” he said softly, his touch steady and reassuring as he ushered her toward the entrance.
As they stepped inside, the lingering warmth of the kiss and the shared laughter left Briar Rose feeling more at home than she ever expected.
Later that day …
Bri leaned against the dining room archway, scanning the expansive living room with practiced precision. The chatter of children bounced off the high ceilings, their laughter blending with the subtle creak of old wood and the occasional clink of dishes from the kitchen. She counted quickly. “Three. One missing already. That was quick. Of course, Beau wouldn’t stay put.”
Brad, standing near the window, followed her gaze before his own drifted outside. A slow, knowing smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “He’s by the horses, predictably.”
Bri exhaled, already stepping forward. “Oh jeeze, I should have guessed. I’ll get him.”
Brad caught her wrist lightly, the warmth of his touch barely there but enough to make her pause. “Mind if I try?”
She hesitated—just long enough for Brad to notice. “If you want. But please know, Beau isn’t like Briony. She is very open to new things, loves meeting people, and thrives on new experiences and attention. Beau is… well… the exact opposite. This is all a bit much for him, I think.” Her eyes flicked to her daughter, who sat cross-legged on the floor, effortlessly holding Brad’s kids captivated with stories of famous relatives and wild family adventures. “Beau’s more like… Jackson. If he isn’t very… accommodating, please don’t take it personally. Frankly, I’m surprised he agreed to come at all.”
Brad absorbed that, nodding slowly. He knew exactly what she meant. Jackson had always been the quiet one—the deep thinker, the observer. He preferred the solitude of the outdoors, had little patience for small talk, and even less interest in the extravagances that others found delightful. “I think I can handle it.”
Before she could respond, he leaned in and pressed a brief kiss to her lips—soft, familiar, effortless—before stepping away and heading out.
Outside, Beau stood at the fence, chewing lazily on a sprig of grass, one boot propped on the lower rung like he’d been planted there his whole life. The horses idled nearby, their ears flicking at distant sounds, tails swishing at persistent flies.
Brad approached without fanfare, his movements easy, deliberate. He leaned against the rail beside Beau, mirroring his stance. He didn’t speak right away—he knew better.
The silence stretched comfortably before Beau finally glanced over, his gaze sharp yet casual. “Some fine horses ya got there, Mister. Didja pick ’em yourself, or have someone do it for ya?”
Brad smirked. “A combination. I grew up with horses, learning about them and how to ride properly was mandatory for me.”
That caught Beau’s attention. His chewing slowed. “No offense an’ all, Sir, but ya don’t look nothin’ like ya know a thing ‘bout horses. You grew up with this kind here? They’s Thoroughbred, ain’t they?”
“They are, but no.” Brad’s gaze drifted over the stables, lost in memory for a second. “Originally, my family had Clydesdales. Do you know what those are?”
“‘Course I know! I know every horse breed out there. I know everything ‘bout horses.” Beau gloated in the typical way a young boy would.
“Impressive. Maybe next time I am looking to buy again, I may consult your help?”
“Sure thing. But it’ll cost ya. We always need feed and hay at the ranch, gets expensive. I can even teach ya how to barrel race, if ya ain’t scared to try.”
Brad chuckled lightly. “Sounds lovely, I’ll keep that in mind. Did you know I taught your mom how to ride?”
Beau blinked, his brows drawing together. “Nah—you remembering that wrong. My dad did.”
Brad shook his head. “Nope. That was me. Though I’m sure your dad taught her, too. See, out here, we learn English style. I think your dad rides Western. Similar, but still different. So, I guess we both taught her.”
Beau absorbed that, chewing on the thought as much as the grass between his teeth. Finally, he gave a slow nod. “Ah.”
Brad let the silence settle before speaking again. “Do you want to ride one?”
Beau’s head snapped around; eyes bright. “Can I?”
“If your mom says it’s okay, why not? We could ride down to the beach and back—not far, but enough to see if you like it. And if you do, maybe tomorrow, we go further. My kids have sailing lessons in the morning, so I’ll be free for a few hours. Might even get your mom and sister to come along. What do you think?”
Beau grinned, straightening up. “I think that’s a great idea, Mister! Briony knows how to ride too, but she ain’t as good as me. Momma’s okay on a horse. Not like Daddy, but not bad neither.”
Brad chuckled, pushing off the fence. “Let’s go get your mom’s approval, then.”
As they walked back toward the house, Brad caught Bri’s watching gaze from the window. She didn’t say anything, but the way she smiled—small, knowing—told him everything he needed to know. Progress.
Once Bri gave her approval, Beau wasted no time striding back toward the stables, his steps sure and confident. Brad followed at a casual pace, watching as the boy moved with an ease born from years of experience, that of a child twice his age or even older yet.
Beau didn’t just grab any horse—he took his time, scanning the stalls with the sharp eye of someone who knew exactly what he was looking for. His gaze lingered on a sleek, well-muscled dark bay mare standing alert at the far end, ears pricked forward in quiet curiosity.
“That one,” he said simply, tipping his chin toward her. “She’s built right—good bone, balanced through the shoulder. She won’t ride heavy on the forehand.”
Brad blinked, caught off guard by the assessment. His head tilted slightly as he studied the boy, his expression shifting from mild curiosity to genuine admiration. “That’s a sharp eye you’ve got, Beau.” There was no condescension in his tone—only honest respect.
He glanced back at the mare, as if reevaluating her through Beau’s expert lens, then gave a nod. “Good choice. That’s Brae Star.” His voice carried more weight now, an acknowledgment of the boy’s knowledge. “It’s said to mean ‘a guiding light’—apt, don’t you think, considering the journey ahead?”
Beau considered that, his expression unreadable at first. Then, with a small shrug, he gave a quick nod. “Hm. Guess that’s a fine name.”
Brad watched him for a beat longer, still quietly impressed. Most kids would pick a horse based on color, a friendly nuzzle, or some charming little quirk—but not Beau. He hadn’t wasted a second on sentiment. His choice had been deliberate, measured, backed by knowledge most grown riders wouldn’t expect from a nine-year-old.
Brad wasn’t used to being surprised like this—but Beau had just proven he knew his horses, and Brad respected that.
He didn’t press the moment further. Instinctively, he moved to help, but Beau was already unfastening the stall latch himself, leading Brae Star out with smooth confidence. Brad paused, watching. The kid didn’t need assistance—he moved with certainty, checking the halter, smoothing a hand down the mare’s neck, reading her temperament like he’d done it a hundred times before.
The horse’s tack was kept near each of the horses’ stalls, so Beau went right to work. He swapped the halter for a bridle, then grabbed the saddle, but paused, scanning the area before dragging over a nearby mounting block to give himself the extra height he needed. He climbed up, balancing carefully as he hoisted the saddle onto Brae Star’s back.
Just as he was adjusting the girth, Brad stepped in—not taking over, just steadying the saddle for a brief moment so it didn’t slip. Beau cast him a glance, but didn’t object—accepting the help in silence.
Deciding instead to focus on his own mount, Brad saddled Glen Moray quickly, keeping a side-eye on Beau as he worked. Once both horses were ready, Brad tightened the last strap, adjusting the bit—and then, to his amusement, Beau wandered over.
The boy ran his hand along Glen Moray’s tack, checking straps with methodical precision. He gave a small, approving nod.
“You did good. Tight, not too tight.” His fingers brushed the stallion’s flank, assessing muscle tone. “Fine horse too. I’d say about five years?”
Brad grinned, tipping his head. “Right on the money, Beau. You really know your way around a horse.”
Beau smirked, clearly pleased. “Learned from the best.”
Brad chuckled. The kid was sharp—more than sharp. He was his father’s son in every way.
Brad swung onto Glen Moray’s back, giving Beau a knowing look. “Well then, let’s ride.”
They set off, Beau taking the lead without question, guiding Brae Star with confident hands. Brad kept pace beside him, watching as the boy instinctively adjusted his posture, signaling subtle cues that Brae Star responded to immediately.
As they reached the dunes, the scent of salt thick in the air, Brad glanced over. “You ever ridden on sand before?”
Beau shook his head. “Nope.” He took in the wide-open stretch ahead, the endless waves rolling in a steady rhythm. “Always wanted to, though.”
Brad nodded. “It’s a little different. Takes a steady hand. The horse feels the shift beneath them, so they adjust how they carry their weight.”
Beau absorbed that, adjusting Brae Star’s reins instinctively. “Makes sense.”
They rode in comfortable silence for a while, the sound of hooves muffled by the soft sand. Then Brad glanced over again. “Ever tried English riding?”
Beau frowned slightly. “Nah. Ain’t never really looked into it. Western’s just what I know. Besides, I’d look mighty silly tryin’ to ride like you do when tryin’ to help a neighbor round up runaway cattle or somethin’.”
Brad hummed. “I’ll say. It’s quite different. Western’s relaxed, gives you freedom, lets the horse do more of the work. English, though—it’s precise. The rider uses their legs more than the reins, keeps a tighter posture, stays balanced over the saddle rather than deep in it.”
Beau mulled it over, adjusting his seat just a little, testing the feel. “Huh.”
Brad smirked. “Not saying one’s better than the other. Just depends on the rider.”
Beau nodded, letting the thought settle without pushing back. He focused on the ocean ahead, waves frothing at their hooves. “This is real nice,” he admitted, though his tone was measured—like he didn’t want to admit too much.
Brad grinned. “Yeah. It is.”
Without another word, Beau urged Brae Star forward, kicking into a gallop. Brad followed, letting the horses stretch their legs as they raced toward the shoreline. The boy rode with a natural ease, his movements fluid, effortless.
Brad watched, a knowing smile playing at his lips. Yeah. Definitely his father’s son.
The ride back was slower, more measured, with the weight of the ocean still lingering in Beau’s thoughts. The boy had gone quiet—not withdrawn, but contemplative—his fingers resting lightly on the reins as Brae Star moved in steady strides beside Glen Moray.
Brad didn’t rush the moment. Some rides weren’t about speed or distance; they were about what settled in after.
Once they reached the stables, Beau swung down first, landing with practiced ease. He led Brae Star to the hitching post, tying the reins loosely before running a palm down her neck, giving her an affectionate pat.
“You’re a good girl,” he murmured to the mare before turning to the saddle straps. His movements were precise, methodical—unfastening the cinch, lifting the saddle with little effort, carrying it to the storage area. Brad mirrored his motions, undoing Glen Moray’s tack with the same practiced ease.
Brad caught the way Beau glanced over at him as he secured Glen Moray’s bridle on the post. Without a word, the boy wandered over, checking the work—running his fingers along the straps with an approving nod.
“You ride well, Mister,” Beau remarked, echoing his earlier assessment. “Gotta hand it to ya, didn’t think ya had it in ya.”
Brad grinned. “Well, thank you, Beau.”
Beau wiped down Brae Star’s back before leading her into her stall, making sure she had fresh water before finally leaning against the railing. He exhaled slowly, glancing toward Brad, who finished tidying Glen Moray’s spot.
“That was the first time I ever rode a horse on a sandy beach,” Beau admitted. He said it like a casual thought, but there was meaning beneath it—something personal, something new.
Brad looked over at him, thoughtful. “Really?”
Beau gave a small nod. “Yeah. Always wanted to, though. Just never had the chance before.”
Brad leaned against the railing beside him, arms crossed. “Well, now you have. And now you know what it feels like. And, if your parents allow, you are welcome to come visit and do it again anytime.”
Beau considered that, a small, satisfied smirk tugging at his lips. “Sounds good. I’ll keep that in mind.”
With the horses tended to, both walked back to the house in silence.
Inside, Bri arched a brow at Beau. “So? How was it?”
Beau didn’t even pause, pulling off his boots with practiced ease. “Brae Star was good. Listens real well, good, steady gait and surefooted, real smooth on the sand, didn’t spook none. The beach was nice. Never seen the ocean up that close before—I mean, I did at gramma and grampa’s house but not like that.” He paused, considering something before tipping his head toward Brad in quiet evaluation.
“Brad ain’t bad either. Solid build, steady hands. Good rider. Knows what he’s doin’, I’d say, but without bein’ in yer face ‘bout it. Might take a bit to get used to him, but I see potential.”
Bri pressed her lips together, eyes flashing with amusement as she glanced at Brad, who had to clear his throat to keep from laughing outright.
Beau didn’t notice—or, more likely, didn’t care. He simply gave a small nod, as if concluding his assessment, then wandered off without a second thought. “I’m gonna find Briony,” he announced as he disappeared down the hall.
The moment he was out of earshot, Brad let out a chuckle, shaking his head. “You hear that Bri. I got potential. That’s high praise, I assume?”
Bri grinned. “I’m sorry, I was distracted by your sturdy build and steady hands.”
Brad smirked, glancing toward the doorway where Beau had disappeared. “Well, I better have steady hands, or I would make a terrible surgeon.”
A few days later: The Lighthouse Revisited
The small ferry cut through the calm waters, carrying the group toward the secluded island—an unspoken weight settling between Brad and Bri as they neared its rocky shore. It had been months since they’d stood at the top of that lighthouse, since the electricity in that moment shifted everything in both their lives.
Bri stole a glance at Brad, barely perceptible, but he caught it. She wasn’t just remembering—she was feeling it and he was too. The way she kissed him first, the way her hand had curled into his jacket like she wasn’t ready to let go.
Brad exhaled, forcing his focus back onto the kids. His two, Graham and Lauren, had been here before, but never like this—never as part of a “family” outing that wasn’t fractured by tension. Briony and Beau, though, had never stepped foot on this island, and their reactions were immediate.
“Wow! This place is so cool!” Briony declared, rushing ahead the moment they landed, practically pulling Lauren along with her excitement. The two girls had hit it off fast, Briony’s natural charm and Lauren’s curiosity making them fast allies.
Beau, on the other hand, hung back, eyeing the place with quiet scrutiny before turning to Graham, who had matched his pace. “It’s real isolated,” Beau muttered.
Graham shrugged, nodding toward the lighthouse that loomed ahead. “Yeah, but the view from the top? Worth it.”
Beau eyed him for a moment, then gave a small smirk, appreciating the practicality. “We’ll see.”
The climb up was filled with excited chatter—the girls eagerly leading the way, already talking about what kind of old pirate treasure might be buried out here, while Beau and Graham exchanged occasional glances of mutual understanding.
When they reached the top, Briony let out a dramatic gasp, spinning toward Bri with wide eyes. “Mom, it’s incredible! I love it!?”
Bri smiled, brushing a hand over her daughter’s hair. “It is, isn’t it?”
Brad was standing slightly behind her, his fingers curling loosely around the railing as he took in the view. It was still the same—the endless ocean stretching out, the salty air wrapping around them—but now, everything had changed.
Bri looked up at him again, and in that second, neither of them were in the present. They were back there—on a warm summer evening, after dinner, when she kissed him, not caring that it had been years since they last stood this close.
Brad swallowed hard, shifting his stance as Lauren called him over.
“This spot is so perfect for pictures!” she insisted.
“Then we’ll have to take some,” Brad responded, forcing a small smile before glancing back at Bri. She understood without words.
It all started here.
The Ferry Ride Back: A New Kind of Familiar
On the ferry ride back, the kids spread out—the girls leaning against the railing, pointing at the water, guessing what kind of fantasy creatures might be lurking beneath, making each other laugh with their fantastic creations, while the boys stood near the side, talking about horses, boats, and anything else that felt grounded.
Beau tipped his chin toward Graham. “Y’all been on this ferry before?”
Graham nodded. “Yeah, when I was little. Not recently. My parents really didn’t do much together anymore. Nothing like this, like… ever.”
Beau hummed, leaning against the railing, his voice as easy as the morning breeze off the water. “Yeah, I get it. My Pa ain’t much for this kinda thing neither. But my Mom, my grandfolks, aunts, uncles? Always somethin’ goin’ on. Music playin’, laughin’, dancin’, takin’ us kids out—parks, movies, the harbor, even just walkin’ around town. Pa mostly just came along when we were in town.”
He shrugged, watching the waves roll beneath the ferry. “Pa don’t do none of that. We ride, sure, but there’s always a destination. Just take the long way sometimes, see what’s out there. Stop by swimmin’ holes when it’s hot, kick back for a bit.”
He flicked a glance at Graham, thoughtful but not pitying. “Folks act like it’s strange, but my parents been on and off since Briony and me was ‘bout four or five. Sure, I miss Ma and Briony, but you get used to it.” A pause, then a knowing nod. “You will too. Just wait. Ain’t all bad. Can be kinda cool sometimes, like, Briony and I now get to stay with you and your dad and Lauren to see all this.”
Graham sighed, tapping his fingers against the railing as he stared out over the water. “I haven’t really seen my mom much since the divorce. She’s been busy house hunting. And my grandparents? They moved a few months ago—used to live right in town, but now they’re hours away.” He paused, his brow furrowing slightly. “I think they’re kinda embarrassed… ’cause my mom did some stuff, and—I don’t know. Everything’s just weird and messed up.”
He huffed out a breath, kicking lightly at the railing. “It’s just different now. Not, like, bad different—I mean, I kinda like having you and your mom here. But you guys are gonna leave too, and then…” His fingers drummed against the metal, voice quieter now. “Then it’s just… quiet again.”
Beau nodded, like he understood without needing to say it outright. “Yeah, reckon that’s tough.” His voice stayed easy, grounded. “But once she’s settled, y’all’ll get to stay with her sometimes—make new routines, have fun. Ain’t gonna be the same, but it’ll still be good.”
He tipped his head slightly, thoughtful but still light. “Me and Briony got our own kinda setup. I’m with my Pa full time, she’s with our Ma, but we visit—get stretches together when we can. Ain’t the way folks expect, but it works. And once things settle down for y’all, bet there’ll be plenty of good times waitin’ too.”
Graham didn’t answer right away, just watching the waves, mulling that over.
“Yeah,” he said finally, quieter this time. “Maybe.”
It wasn’t certainty. But it was something.
Meanwhile, Bri and Brad stood side by side, watching them—taking quiet inventory.
Lauren and Briony were already fast friends, feeding off each other’s energy. Briony had a strong personality—bold, expressive, and theatrical, while Lauren, though not shy, was more measured, thoughtful. They complemented each other in ways that felt effortless.
Graham and Beau were different. Graham was intuitive, intellectual, more reserved—always observing, always thinking before he spoke. Beau, on the other hand, was confident, hands-on, sharp but not overly introspective. Yet they understood each other.
“They’re all getting along,” Bri murmured beside Brad.
Brad nodded, watching the way Graham and Beau interacted—not overly warm, but not distant. It wasn’t forced, and that was something.
He turned to Bri, his voice lower. “That’s good, right?”
She smiled softly, her fingers brushing against the fabric of her sweater. “Yes. It’s really good.”
Dinner at the Restaurant: A Test That Goes Over Well
By the time they reached the restaurant—a well-known seaside spot—the group had fully settled into their dynamic. The same spot they had first reconnected after all those years during Briar Rose’s fateful trip down memory lane half a year ago.
Brad had dined here more times than he could count, but never like this. Not as a man sitting across from Briar Rose, surrounded by his kids, and hers—as something that looked dangerously close to a family. Family. He grew up close to his parents, but it had always been more keeping up appearances. It had never felt like this. Warm. Funny. Casual. Real.
They ordered seafood, and the conversations blended effortlessly. Briony and Lauren took center stage, weaving their animated storytelling into the evening. Lauren had a sharp sense of humor, often countering Briony’s dramatics with a witty one-liner that made Graham smirk into his drink.
Beau, surprisingly, was completely at ease, talking about horses and ranch life, letting Brad chime in at moments where it felt natural. At one point, Beau even mentioned the idea of Brae Star again, musing that he wouldn’t mind riding her sometime soon—an acknowledgment of Brad’s earlier offer.
Brad caught Bri’s glance at that. It was working. Her hand found his under the table and he squeezed it, fighting the urge to pull it up to his lips and kiss it.
As the night settled, plates emptied, and tired eyes hinted that bedtime wasn’t far off, Brad stretched back in his chair, watching Bri as she talked with Lauren and Briony.
Everything had changed.
Months ago, they were standing at the top of that lighthouse, stealing moments neither of them thought they’d have again. Now, they were here, sitting across from four children, silently acknowledging the possibility that soon, there might be another.
Neither of them said anything about it.
But Brad reached for his drink, letting himself breathe through the moment, his fingers brushing against Bri’s when she reached for hers.
Bedtime
The hallway was quiet, the soft creak of old floorboards the only sound as Brad stepped out of Lauren’s room—only to pause, his brow furrowing. The bed was empty, the blanket untouched.
“I seem to have misplaced my daughter,” he murmured, turning just as Bri eased the door to Briony’s room shut.
She smiled, unsurprised. “She’s in Briony’s bed. Again. I carried her over to her room twice. When I just came back to make sure Briony is not reading under the covers or playing on her phone, I found both girls asleep together. I call defeat. You have at it.”
Brad leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his grin widening. “Do you mind them in the same bed?”
“No. Briony does that all the time with her little friends back home. Are you okay with it?”
“To be honest, I love it. Might even take a hint, hoping her mother might want to join me in my bed.”
Bri raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a teasing smile. “Better call Molly then and see.”
He laughed, stepping closer, his hands finding her waist and pulling her gently against him. His kiss was deliberate, leaving no room for misunderstanding. When he pulled back, his voice was a low murmur. “Does that clear up any confusion on whose mother I was referring to?”
Her smile softened, her fingers brushing against his jaw. “Lead the way…”
Brad grabbed her hand and guided her down the hall.
Nighttime Whispers
The room was bathed in soft shadows, the sound of the ocean filling the space with its rhythmic cadence. The salty scent of the sea lingered in the air, mingling with the faint aroma of cedarwood from the old beams of the house.
Brad lay on his back, one arm wrapped around Bri as she rested her head on his chest. The warmth of her body against his was grounding, a quiet reminder of how far they had come.
She inhaled slowly, letting the air settle in her lungs before exhaling. “It’s different here.”
Brad brushed his hand lazily along her shoulder, waiting. He knew what she meant, but he wanted to hear her say it.
“The ocean smells different,” she continued, turning her head slightly against his chest. “Back home, the air is briny, thick with warmth, the scent softened by the inland fog. Here… it’s sharper. Crisper, with that raw, untamed bite. Like it belongs to the wind more than it does to the water.”
Brad hummed, running his fingers gently through her hair. “You always could pick up the details no one else noticed.”
She smiled, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his chest. “It’s in my nature, I guess. The songwriter in me. You pick up on details to make them into lyrics and a score. You do that a few times and it becomes second nature. Nothing you experience is just a gesture or a moment anymore, everything is lyrical.”
She exhaled softly, her voice quieter now. “The Bay—it’s home in a way, but… not my home anymore.”
His head turned toward her, pressing a gentle kiss against her temple. “I am very much hoping it will be again. Sooner rather than later.”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, she let her fingers continue their idle tracing over his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall beneath them.
“The Bay—it’s all I knew once,” she murmured, voice hushed like she wasn’t just speaking to him, but to the ghosts of the past. “But when I left, I had to make a home somewhere else. I thought I had. Several times. First on campus, then in Chestnut Ridge and then San Sequoia. But being back here, overnight for the first time in – what? – a decade or more? It hits different.”
Brad’s grip tightened slightly, as if he wasn’t sure whether to press further or let her speak. He chose the latter. He already had said all he had to say to this. Extended his invitation to make it permanent.
She exhaled softly. “Funny how life pulls you back to places you thought you’d outgrown.”
The waves crashed against the cliffs outside, their movement casting abstract patterns on the ceiling. Occasionally, the lighthouse beam swept across the room, a soft glow that illuminated their faces for a fleeting moment before fading again.
She tilted her head back, catching his eyes in the dim light.
“And you?” she whispered. “Does it feel the same to you?”
Brad’s hand moved, fingers tracing a slow path down her arm before resting at her waist. He didn’t need time to think. “No,” he admitted. “It’s different now. Better. You have no idea, Bri.”
Bri’s lips parted slightly, a quiet exhale escaping. She turned onto her side, facing him fully, her hand sliding up to cup his jaw. “Better?”
He leaned into her touch, his voice steady but thick with meaning. “Because I’m not standing here waiting for something that’s never coming back while feeling all alone in a crowd. You make me a better man, a happier man, and a better father. I thought I was a great dad, sure tried to be. But seeing all my kids have been missing now that your kids are here. Lauren never once had a sleepover. And Graham doesn’t talk to strangers, period. He sure did a lot of talking today. Guess you guys just never were strangers to begin with, they just didn’t know you yet.”
She swallowed hard, her heart tightening as she realized exactly what he was saying.
This wasn’t nostalgia. This wasn’t an echo of something lost.
This was something new, something present.
Brad lifted a hand, brushing his knuckles against her cheek before pulling her closer, tucking her against him like she belonged there.
“Stay,” he murmured, the single word more than a plea—it was a promise.
And this time, Bri didn’t hesitate.
“I want to. But I need more time, Braddy. The kids need more time and my family needs more time. At least a little bit longer. But I love your offer and I will take you up on it, if you still can be patient a little while longer.”
He didn’t answer, not with words. Instead he kissed her.
The silence that followed wasn’t empty—it was full, brimming with unspoken promises and the kind of understanding that didn’t need words. The lighthouse beam swept across them again, and this time, Brad didn’t look away.
They stayed like that, curled together, the sound of the ocean their only witness.
The Breakfast Chaos
Morning sunlight spilled through the massive windows, drenching the breakfast table in golden warmth. The estate’s kitchen was grand—high ceilings, gleaming marble countertops, a farmhouse-style dining area large enough to fit a small army. It was a picture-perfect setting, except at the moment, it looked more like controlled chaos.
Briony was perched on her chair, waving a fork dramatically as she recounted a very exaggerated story about an adventure she supposedly had last summer. Lauren listened, eyes wide, clearly enchanted despite Graham repeatedly muttering, “That didn’t happen.”
“O’course it didn’t …” Beau mumbled in agreement.
“Briony,” Briar Rose said with a patient smile, her tone firm but light, “Eat, then exaggerate.”
“Mom, I am not exaggerating,” Briony protested, lifting her fork as if to punctuate her point.
Lauren leaned closer, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “I believe you.”
Graham groaned, rolling his eyes. “Of course, you do.”
Beau, entirely uninterested in the theatrics, was meticulously spreading butter on his toast, ignoring the commotion around him.
“Dad, can Briony stay with us? Like, forever and ever?” Lauren’s voice broke through Brad’s thoughts again, pulling his attention back to the room.
Brad felt the question hit him like a wave of hot oil—unexpected and searing. His coffee cup hovered mid-air as his mind raced for the right response. Instinctively, his gaze darted to Briar Rose, silently pleading for help. She looked equally caught off guard, her eyes widening slightly as she glanced between Lauren and Briony.
“Well…” Briar Rose began, her voice steady but cautious as she set down the juice pitcher. “That’s a big question, Lauren.” She turned to her daughter, her expression softening into a gentle smile. “Briony, what do you think? Would you want to stay here?”
Beau mumbled, “I don’t…”
Briony’s eyes lit up instantly, her fork pausing mid-air. “Nobody was asking you!” she shot back at her twin brother, her words tumbling out in excitement. “And yes! I wanna stay here forever! You have horses, and a pool, and a tree house! And Lauren says there’s music classes, and I wanna learn the violin! I know how to play the piano, and Grandpa has been teaching me guitar, but nobody knows how to play the violin! And Lauren is like my bestestetestest friend in the whole wide world now!”
Her enthusiasm swelled with every word, her voice rising as though the possibilities could lift her off her chair. But as she continued, she forgot she was still chewing her pancake. Syrup and crumbs launched from her mouth, landing squarely on Beau’s arm.
“Ugh, Briony! Gross! You need a muzzle!” Beau groaned, recoiling dramatically as he grabbed a napkin to wipe his sleeve.
Briony swallowed hurriedly, her cheeks puffing out as she tried not to laugh. “Sorry, BoBo,” she said, not sounding sorry at all.
Lauren leaned closer, giggling as she chimed in. “I think it’s a great idea! Daddy?”
Brad’s chest tightened, his emotions colliding—joy, longing, and the lingering apprehension of moving too fast. Lauren’s innocent hope and Briony’s exuberance were like sunbeams cutting through a carefully constructed fog. Yet his gaze lingered on Briar Rose, searching her face for reassurance.
“Briony,” Briar Rose said gently, leaning forward, “you know staying here would mean changing schools, right? And we wouldn’t be living with Grandma and Grandpa anymore. You’d leave your friends back home. Would you still want that?”
Briony tilted her head, considering for all of two seconds before shrugging confidently. “Yeah, well. Stephanie’s parents divorced, so she’s moving away. Jenna and Andrea’s dad is in the military, and they have to move. Bella has to repeat the grade… It’s gonna be lame without all of them anyway. I can make new friends. I already have a friend—Lauren! And Graham! And Lauren says they have music classes here! I wanna learn the violin!”
Beau groaned again, slumping back in his chair. “Great. More noise.”
Briar Rose chuckled softly, reaching over to ruffle his hair while Briony turned to him with an eyeroll.
“Says you? Everything at Dad’s ranch is noisy! Even the water faucets make noise. It’s never really quiet there—ever!”
“That’s different…” Beau grumbled, his drawl stubborn.
“How?” Briony demanded, narrowing her eyes.
“It just is! Eat yer pancake!” Beau snapped, clearly done with the debate.
Brad finally found his voice, setting his coffee cup down with a soft clink. His tone was measured but warm as he said, “It’s not something we have to decide right now. It’s a big change, and we’d need to make sure it’s the right choice for everyone.”
Briony nodded, though her excitement hadn’t dimmed in the slightest. “Okay, but can I still see the horses today?”
Beau scoffed, fixing her with a look, his drawl slow, deliberate, unimpressed.
“Since when do ya like horses so much? I already asked Brad to ride out again, and he said we’d go together. You can stay here and stare at clothes all day, ain’t botherin’ me none.”
“Kids,” Brad replied, his smile softening as he glanced at Briar Rose. “We can all ride out together. If Briony wants to, and her mom allows it, then she can come too, don’t you think Beau?”
Briar Rose’s lips curved in a soft smile, her gaze meeting his with quiet gratitude. As the conversation shifted back to pancakes and plans for the day, Brad felt a flicker of hope. Maybe, just maybe, this could work.
Across the table, Brad watched it all with quiet amusement. He wasn’t just seeing breakfast—he was seeing something alive. A rhythm. A warmth. A type of togetherness he’d never had in his home before.
Then, suddenly, something shifted in him. The laughter blurred, Bri’s voice softened in his ears, and without thinking, he stood up and left the room.
Bri noticed immediately. She didn’t follow right away—she settled the last plate, calmed the small disputes, ensured everyone was occupied. Then, she moved after him.
A Moment of Honesty
She found him in the hallway, his hands gripping the edge of the narrow table, his back turned to her. The light streaming in from the high windows cast faint shadows across the walls, but even in the dimness, Briar Rose could see the tension in his frame. At first, she thought he was simply catching his breath. But then, she caught the subtle way his shoulders tensed—the quiet tremor in his movements.
His hand lifted briefly, swiping across his eyes, and her heart tightened.
Without hesitating, she stepped closer, wrapping her arms around him from behind, pressing her forehead against the curve of his back. “Brad…”
His hands dropped to his sides, his body sagging against her embrace as if her touch alone dissolved some of the weight he carried. He didn’t turn right away, but his breath steadied as he leaned into her.
“I never had this,” he admitted, his voice rough with emotion. “A breakfast like that. A… family meal like that.”
Briar Rose frowned softly, her fingers brushing across his shoulders as she tightened her hold.
“The only time I remember sitting at a table, laughing, talking about random things anything that just came to mind, was when I was your boyfriend,” Brad continued, his words slow, unsteady. “At your parents’ house. When I was allowed to be part of your world. And now your little girl wants to be part of mine and my little girl wants her too and I have to tell them no, when I don’t even want to let any of you fly back home again.”
He turned to her now, his eyes damp but unapologetically honest. Briar Rose lifted her hand, brushing her thumb along his cheek, grounding him.
“And my kids… they never had that before either. This—in there,” Brad said, his voice breaking slightly. “I failed them, Bri. I thought if I just gave them everything—the estate, the tutors, any hobby they wanted to try, the best schools—if I just showed them that I love them, that would be enough.”
He let out a shaky breath, his gaze flickering toward the space they’d just left. “But I failed at the only thing that mattered. The one thing I swore I’d do better. I never gave them that. Whatever you call what’s happening in there.” He swallowed hard, voice raw. “I don’t know how. And now I’m just raising two more miserable Cunninghams in a long, long line of miserable Cunninghams before them.”
Her grip tightened on his arms, steadying him as his chest heaved with emotion. “Brad,” she said firmly, meeting his gaze with unwavering conviction. “You didn’t fail. You were stuck in a vicious circle. You see it now. Your kids are happy and healthy and loved. The rest is fixable. It’s no problem at all, trust me.”
His throat bobbed as he nodded, his eyes pleading. “Don’t leave.”
She opened her mouth to answer, but before she could, he pressed forward. “Bri, listen, help me remodel the house,” he said suddenly. “Make it warm. Make it a home. Make it yours. Stay.”
Her brows lifted at the unexpected request, but then she shook her head softly. “No.”
Brad’s face dropped slightly, his vulnerability showing in the crease of his brow. Before he could misinterpret, Briar Rose stepped closer, her tone gentle but firm.
“This home needs to be you,” she corrected. “I don’t see Bradford in this place, in these walls. Make it yours, not mine. I will add myself, but this needs to be you. I will help you—I love decorating—but it needs to reflect you. And involve the kids. This doesn’t look like Graham or Lauren either.”
“I want to make it ours. And you are already here, Bri, have been all along.”
Brad stood silent for a moment, her words sinking in as his gaze lingered on her. Without another word, he grabbed her hand and led her outside, past the patio and the large pool, down the winding stone steps near the playground where the children would run.
A Place That Was Once Hers
When they reached the bottom of the steps, Briar Rose froze.
The space before her—lush, quiet, sprawling—was a park. Gravel pathways curved gently through rows of trees, leading past cozy benches to a glimmering pond nestled in the shade of the foliage. The air felt warmer here, softer, quieter, carrying with it faint echoes of laughter and memories long gone.
Her gaze darted from one corner to the next, her heart hammering as recognition set in. “This…” she whispered, her voice catching.
Brad exhaled deeply, his expression careful as he watched her. “It was yours once. Your family’s. Right there was where I asked you to our first prom. And a few weeks later, over there, to be my girl.”
Briar Rose’s chest tightened as her feet carried her forward on instinct, her hand reaching out to touch the smooth bark of an old tree. The curve of the branches was unmistakable. She could still see the faint marks where a swing had once hung, where her father used to sit editing lyrics for new songs under its shade.
“It was the only part I could save,” Brad said quietly from behind her. “When my father bought back the property—which used to be Cunningham property before my grandfather lost it and your family eventually bought it—I fought him. I begged him not to tear down your house, just remodel it. But he wouldn’t listen. I had to go on a work trip, and when I came back, the house, the garages, the pool… all of it was gone.” He paused, his voice heavy with regret. “I managed to stop them from tearing down the park, but they had already demolished part of it. Where the pool is now.”
Her breath hitched as the words sank in, her fingers brushing over the rough texture of the bark.
Brad swallowed thickly, continuing. “After my father died, I tried to rebuild it. I contacted architects to recreate your childhood home. But we couldn’t find enough photos for an accurate rebuild. I’m sorry, Bri. This is all I could keep.”
He looked around at the carefully restored landscape, his voice softening. “Not the same, but—”
She didn’t let him finish.
Turning abruptly, Briar Rose grabbed his face and kissed him—hard.
Brad let out a soft, surprised noise against her lips but melted into her immediately, his hands lifting to hold her close. The kiss wasn’t just gratitude; it was understanding. Years of separation, heartbreak, and loss fused into one overwhelming moment.
The Interrupted Moment
“Told you.”
The dry remark pulled them apart, and as they turned, Graham and Beau stood a few feet away, arms crossed, their expressions teetering between exasperation and amusement.
Graham nudged Beau with a smirk. “Told you they were kissing.”
Beau let out a long, exaggerated sigh, his drawl dragging lazily, thick with resigned defeat.
“Yup. Y’all sure did—ya win. What is it with grown-ups doin’ that all the dang time? One kiss a day’s plenty if ya askin’ me.”
Brad rested his forehead against Briar Rose’s, laughing softly. “They’re so unimpressed. Very anticlimactic.”
Briar Rose chuckled, pressing one last kiss to the corner of his mouth before stepping back.
Beau turned, waving a hand impatiently, his drawl thick with mock irritation.
“Alright, romantics, let’s go. Y’all’s breakfast’s probably colder’n a dead fish by now. You need to eat so we can go ridin’ again. You promised, Mister—and I ain’t lettin’ ya weasel out of it.”
Brad stepped up the stairs, moving with easy confidence, his presence solid, steady, unshaken by the morning’s chaos.
With one fluid motion, he wrapped an arm around each of them—Beau and Graham—pulling them in with the effortless assurance of a man completely at home with his family.
“I wouldn’t dream of disappointing you, Beau. I am a man of my word.” His tone carried warm amusement, but there was a promise in it, too—real, unwavering.
Behind him, Bri followed, giggling, shaking her head at the exchange.
Graham trailed along, muttering under his breath, “That’s true, Beau. If my dad promises something he always keeps it. And maybe Briony can keep exaggerating so much she tells you how your ride was before it happens.”
“No kiddin’!” Beau erupted into laughter, and Graham chimed in as the two boys disappeared back toward the house.
Briar Rose smiled, lacing her fingers through Brad’s as they trailed behind. But just before they reached the door, she tugged him back, her gaze sparkling mischievously.
Before Brad could react, she pulled him down into another kiss—deep and purposeful. Through the glass doors, the boys caught sight of them and let out theatrical groans, their exaggerated sighs cutting through the moment.
Briar Rose pulled Brad closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered, “Know any good moving company that’s available on short notice?”
Brad stiffened, his eyes searching hers for confirmation. When he realized she meant it, his face broke into an expression of pure joy. Grabbing her tightly, he spun her around, her laughter ringing out across the cliffs like the echoes of a long-lost melody.
EchoesOfLegacy 