Page 18 of August’s Cowboy Braxton

Ruby called thirty minutes after the first lightning strike, talking loud enough I could hear her through Addison’s phone. "Evening events are canceled. We're not risking contestants in this weather."

Relief filled Addison's voice. "Understood. I'll check in tomorrow morning."

"Are you staying out at Braxton’s ranch?"

"Yes."

"Good. Stay put. Roads are already flooding."

Addison set her phone down and looked at me. "Guess we're stuck here."

"You don’t sound disappointed."

"It will be good to have a night off. I’m tired.”

She looked it too. Dark smudges sat under her eyes despite the makeup she'd reapplied after we'd left the community center. Her shoulders carried tension she couldn't quite hide, and her smile had slipped twice in the last hour.

I made sure the front door was locked and checked the windows while Addison walked through the downstairs rooms like she was in a fog. I didn’t blame her. How much more could one woman take?

She paused at the mantel, studied the dusty frames, and moved on.

The lights flickered once. Twice. Then the power went out. Emergency lighting kicked in downstairs. Thank fuck for the battery backup I'd installed years ago and never bothered to rip out. Pale blue LEDs lit the hallway and kitchen enough to get by.

Addison stood in the living room doorway, backlit and still. "You’re prepared for this?"

"Always."

"Of course you are."

Thunder cracked close enough to rattle the windows. Rain pounded harder.

I found the storm lanterns in the kitchen pantry—propane, reliable, the kind Dad used to keep for calving season emergencies. I lit two and carried one into the living room.

Addison had moved to the bookshelves. She traced the spines without pulling anything free, her fingers light and careful.

"Your family left all this behind?"

"More or less."

"Why?"

"They moved closer to town after Eli died. Mom couldn't stand being out here."

She glanced back at me. "Eli?"

I set the lantern on the coffee table. "My brother."

Addison turned toward me, her expression open and waiting for me to say more.

I hadn't talked about Eli in years. Hadn't said his name out loud to anyone except family, and even then, only when necessary. But Addison was looking at me like she saw past the controlled bodyguard routine, past the discipline I'd built to keep people at a distance, past all of it. And something in me splintered.

"There's a picture of him on the top shelf."

She followed my gaze and reached up to pull down the frame I'd almost forgotten was there.

Dust coated the glass. She wiped it clean with her sleeve and studied the image.

I already knew what she’d see. Two boys. One seventeen, already broad-shouldered and serious. One fourteen, grinning like the world was his for the taking.