Bad Boy Blues - Jessica Lemmon Page 0,5

she’d had before Neil were still on her friend’s list, and every so often, she’d see a party or a dinner or gathering they went to together. There was a time she would’ve been part of the mix, and there would be a time again. She’d vowed that after the break in Evergreen Cove, she’d go back to Chicago and reclaim those friendships. She just had to find herself first.

She closed the balcony door and went downstairs to put the kettle on for her nightly peppermint tea. She should’ve been tired enough to sleep without it, but the rush of a car nearly flattening her—and Brady—had left her alert.

She flipped on the burner under the teakettle, feeling relaxed in the homey atmosphere. Her parents had mentioned selling this place, or possibly renting it out. It was sad to think of them not keeping it, but it was equally sad to picture the house sitting empty, save a monthly cleaning to keep the shelves dust free.

Being here reminded her of scampering along the manmade beach and water’s edge, lounging on the deck as a teenager, or sulking in the upstairs bedroom. This visit, she’d be inhabiting the master suite, the one with the balcony and the hot tub.

She was looking forward to reuniting with the woman she’d been before she met Neil. The woman who knew what she wanted, had confidence to spare, and was generally happy and excited about life.

Neil hadn’t wanted her to leave their shared house, insisting she had everything she needed in their corner of the world. And while the house had been home to her for years, it’d lacked a certain something she hadn’t been able to put her finger on until today.

Love. It’d lacked love.

Love from Neil, love for her own life, and even self-love. She’d prioritized a man who purposefully kept her from her friends, her parents, a job, and her hobbies. He’d successfully isolated her from everyone she knew. He’d deemed it “wasteful” for her to visit a gym since there was a state-of-the-art in-home fitness center in the basement.

As a result, her girlfriends had grown distant. They were grainy, blurry images hovering in the background of what once was her life. There was no one in Chicago she was still in contact with—no yoga instructor, since she didn’t visit the gym, no boss at work, since she didn’t have a job. No one but Desmond and Rosella McKinley, otherwise known as Mom and Dad.

“That changes now,” she decreed as she settled on the deck with her mug of tea. The moon, high and fat in the sky, winked its agreement. She’d once been social and savvy. She could be that again. Her eyes went to the darkened houses along the beach. Maybe she could introduce herself around while she was here. She might as well practice being social again.

She winced as she thought of the attractive guy who’d bailed her out tonight with the tire. She hadn’t been that nice to him, and he’d seemed nice enough. His generous mouth and smile, his long, strong gait as he’d carried her tire off to the tire hospital. Against her will, her stomach fluttered with excitement, at the newness of a stray dart of attraction. At being in a position to react to a man like Brady.

But she wasn’t in Evergreen Cove to be saved by a knight in shining armor, or a hometown boy who was a helpful citizen. She was here to remember how to be her own person again. That didn’t involve a guy with dark-blond hair and a warm smile.

No matter how nice he was.

Chapter 4

Seventy-five-year-old Emory Hutchins was Brady’s dad’s dad and quite possibly the best human being on the planet.

Though Brady was biased, given the man had raised him when his parents were killed at an intersection on their way back from an anniversary trip. Brady’d been five years old at the time, and what was meant to be a temporary stay with his grandparents had morphed into a permanent home and a truckload of grief too big for any kid to endure. In a blink, he’d been moved from his home in Cincinnati to the opposite end of the state to live with Gramps and Gram.

Brady didn’t remember much from that time, save confusion. He hadn’t had the tools to understand grief and its many nuances. Even now it had a way of walloping him out of the blue. He’d been a complacent kid and an angry