Page 39 of Saving Brad
Jon unlocks a wooden door to the basement, flicking the switch on the wall and tramping down the stairs. We all follow silently behind him. It’s a workroom of sorts. Tons of tools hang from shelves and nails on the wall, and boxes of supplies line the floor. He guides us to a smaller, less conspicuous door at the back of the open space. He raps three times on the dirty door, unlocks the padlock, and then steps aside to let Brad enter first. He nods for me to follow him.
“Brad!” a girlish voice calls out in excitement. The sounds of racing footsteps approach. I hang back as a small girl with long blonde hair throws herself at Brad. She’s sobbing and clinging to him. He lifts her up with ease, hugging her to him as he swings them both around. Tears flood his eyes, falling freely down his face, but his smile is as vast as the Atlantic Ocean. My heart soars at the sight, and tears threaten my eyes.
“Pumpkin,” he croaks out. “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Me, too, Brad,” she cries. “I missed you every single day.” She wraps her legs around his waist, and he holds her up. Pressing his cheek into the top of her head, he looks at me with unbridled joy and relief. It’s contagious, and I find myself grinning back at him.
“Kaitlyn,” Cora calls out, gesturing toward the corner of the room. I lift my head up, only noticing his other sister now. “Come say hi to your brother.” She’s nearly as tall as Brad, and her hair is the same shade of blonde. She has it cut in a short bob with both sides tucked behind her ears. She’s wearing tattered jeans that have clearly seen better days and a long, loose patterned T-shirt with a charcoal gray hoodie.
She pushes up from the couch, sauntering toward us with a wary expression. Brad places Emma’s feet on the ground, squeezing her hand before walking toward his other sister. “Munchkin,” he murmurs, tentatively pulling her into a hug.
Kaitlyn is stiff as a brick in his arms. “Don’t call me that. I’m not a little girl anymore, Brad.”
Easing back, he places his hands on her shoulders. “No, I can see that.” He skims his sister’s face. “You’ve changed so much. You’re so tall, and you cut your hair.”
“It wasn’t by choice,” she snaps.
“Kaitlyn.” Cora’s voice carries a silent warning.
“I guess we’ve lots to catch up on,” Brad says calmly, but the way his voice falters a little tugs my heartstrings. I can’t even begin to imagine what life on the run was like, and Kaitlyn is obviously battling some demons, but taking it out on Brad isn’t fair. He’s been through his own hell.
“I’ll give you the short version,” she says, her sneer matching the sarcasm in her tone. “Dad’s a selfish prick, and Mom’s too weak to stand up for herself. She’d rather subject us to shady lowlifes and drag us all round the world, rather than tell the man she married that he’s a scumbag criminal who deserves to rot in hell for what he’s done.”
“Don’t sugarcoat it or anything, Kaitlyn,” Brad retorts, jerking his head in his younger sister’s direction.
“Screw you, Brad. What the fuck would you know about it? You held on to your lifestyle while we were slumming it.” She pushes away from him, folding her arms angrily over her chest.
A muscle clenches in Brad’s jaw, but he doesn’t retaliate. He just stands there, taking the abuse hurled at him. That doesn’t sit right with me.
“Contrary to what you believe, it hasn’t been all rainbows and unicorns for your brother either,” I interject, feeling pissed and protective on Brad’s behalf. “And I don’t care what you’ve been through, you need to watch your tone.”
Yeah, I’m so not analyzing that.
She narrows her eyes at me. “And who the fuck are you to tell me anything?”
“Don’t, Rachel.” Brad turns pleading eyes on me, and I reluctantly seal my lips shut.
I want to speak up for Brad because I know he hasn’t had it easy, but his sister is still young, and she’s clearly been through an ordeal too. That thought throws water over the smoldering flames of my anger. “We should make tracks. It’s getting late.”
He nods, and his eyes express gratitude. “Can you pack up your things, girls. We’re getting out of here.”
“Where to?” Kaitlyn asks, still scowling.
“Mom’s in a safe place, and I’m bringing you to join her.”
The girls pack their things, and we say a quick goodbye to Cora and Jon. I promise to text them once everyone is safely in the house in Wellesley. Brad climbs in the cargo hold, and the girls cower on the floor of the backseat as I reverse the Range Rover out of the driveway. Once I’ve gone a few miles and I’m sure no one is following us, I pull over and let him out.
Before I can walk away, he snags my wrist and pulls me to him. His mouth is soft and warm as it collides with mine. I know I shouldn’t kiss him back, but it’s too difficult to resist. Especially when his kiss is sweet and adoring, and I’m sensing how much he needs this connection, so I don’t bother fighting something both of us want even if we’re opposed to articulating it. We mutually part lips a couple of minutes later. He presses his forehead to mine, and my hands automatically grip his waist.
“Thank you, Rachel,” he whispers. “For putting yourself on the line for me.”
I look into his sincere eyes, and he plants his lips against mine for one last, brief moment, and, dear Lord, that feather-soft kiss unravels me. There’s something so tender in the gesture, and in his gaze, and it affects me on a soul-deep level. This is the side of him Faye has spoken about. A side I’ve only caught fleeting glimpses of up to this point. A side I was reluctant to believe existed. I can keep dickhead Brad at bay, but a softer, kinder persona? I don’t know how I’m expected to resist. The thought unnerves me for a whole heap of reasons.
I touch my fingers to my lips, savoring the lingering tingle from his caress. How he can manage to convey so much with one tender kiss is unreal, but I know I’ll be replaying it in my mind later. I imagine this is what it’s like for Faye every time Ky kisses her. For the first time, a pang of envy jumps up and bites me, and I don’t know what to make of it.
We part without another word, climbing into the car, and Brad wastes no time getting back on the road.
“Hey,” he says a little while later, extracting his iPhone and handing it to me. “I still have all your songs, Munch—Kaitlyn. How about some Katy Perry?” His handsome face is expectant as he looks through the mirror at his sister.
