He shoved the ticket back into the envelope and held it out to Keegan. "Toss it. I'll be at the family meeting tonight."
Keegan didn't take it. "I can't. I texted the Hart chat. We think you should go to the concert. See her. Family consensus."
"No." Brody tossed the envelope into a nearby trash can. "It's not from her."
"What if it is?"
He paused and looked at his brother. "She's married."
"Divorced. You know that."
Brody let out his breath. "Our fling was a long time ago."
"It wasn't a fling, and it might have been a long time ago, but she still haunts you. She's the reason why you've never met anyone else. We all know it." Keegan plucked the envelope out of the trash. "You're always telling us we deserve love. You're the one trying to marry all of us off because we all deserve the family we didn't have. But you're the one who won't even try. Because of her."
Brody walked to the end of the aisle and stared across their expansive ranch at the sun quickly rising in the sky. Tatum Crosby. Keegan was right. She had become his world fifteen years ago, and that hadn't ended when she'd left.
"You have to go, Brody. You always say that the universe hands you what you need, not necessarily what you want. Well, guess what?" He shoved the ticket back into Brody's hand. "You got handed a ticket, so you gotta go."
Brody scowled at his brother. "Why do you remember the things I tell you only when it's convenient?"
"Because I’m smart. I booked the penthouse at the Ritz in Portland for you already. They're so delighted that Brody Hart will be gracing them with his presence this evening." He grinned. "We're still going to eat Bella's dinner, but we're doing it without you, so you better have a good time, or you'll miss her dinner for nothing."
Brody grabbed a brush and began brushing Stormy's neck. "I'm not going. It's not from Tatum."
Keegan laughed. "Of course you're going. There's no way in hell that you could possibly walk away from this invite without knowing that for sure."
Brody ground his jaw. "I fucked up. She was right to leave."
"Yeah, an eighteen-year-old, homeless, runaway trying to keep a bunch of kids alive and together made a mistake. He definitely deserves to pay for that for the rest of his life, right?"
Brody looked over at his brother. And said nothing.
"How many of her songs do you know every word to?" Keegan asked.
Brody replied without hesitation. "All of them."
"Then you need to go see her, or you'll never be free."
Chapter Three
Brody was late.
And he still wasn't sure if he was staying.
He kept his head down, his shoulders hunched, and his cowboy hat tilted as he strode through the quiet tunnels leading into the stadium.
There were a few people in line for beer or pretzels, but it was mostly empty.
Everyone was in their seats, screaming for Tatum, who had been on stage for a half hour already.
Brody knew, because he'd sat in his truck and watched the social media feeds. He wasn't about to go in before she was on stage. But once she came on…he'd just sat there in his truck, watching as fans posted grainy clips of her performance.
Then, thirty minutes in, someone had posted a clip from up close, close enough for Brody to see her face. She'd looked up, as if she were looking right at him, telling him to come in.
So he'd shoved his phone in his pocket and gotten out of his truck.
And now, he could hear the thud of the music as he neared the doorway that led to Floor Section 4, Rows 1-10.
He paused to show his ticket to the usher, and then was waved inside.
He shoved his hands in his front pockets and stepped inside the stadium. The music hit him like a wave of raw power. The lights flashed. Smoke rose from the stage. An assault on his senses that he ignored, his gaze going right to the stage to find her.
His breath seemed to catch in his chest when he saw her in person, for the first time in fifteen years. She was at the far end of the stage, one arm over her head, her stance wide and strong in red, sparkling heels. Her halter top matched the shoes, showing off her muscled torso, while her black leather pants showed off every curve. She radiated a passion and gloriousness that the photographs never did justice to.
She was moving to the fierce beat, working the fans up into a frenzy.
Her voice was glorious, radiating through the stadium like heaven itself had unleashed its greatest glory through her. It wasn't country. It wasn't soul. It wasn't pop. It was all of those together, mixed with a magic that no one else had ever been able to mimic.
Tatum Crosby was legend, and she was right there, fifty feet from him.
The front row was less than five feet from the stage. She would see him. And the moment she did, he would be close enough to read her expression and know if she'd sent the ticket and backstage pass. He would know whether to stay.
But still he didn't move.
He stood there, silently, watching. Breathing in the woman who had been a part of his soul for fifteen years. With the lights from the stage, he knew she wouldn't be able to see him from where he was standing.
He could watch her entire concert, and then slide away into the night.
She would never know.
But then, neither would he.
Keegan was right. He had to know. This was his chance to begin to live again.
He waited until she was at the far end of the stage again, singing to the crowd on that side of the stadium. The moment she turned her back on him, he pulled his hat down to hide his face, and then he went on the move.
Brody wasn't coming.
The realization wound tight around Tatum's chest, making it difficult to get enough air to sing.
She fought for the energy her fans deserved. She shouted her love for them. She poured all she had into her music. But she couldn't keep looking at the empty seat in the front row.
She'd known it was a long shot he would come. It had been so long since she'd seen him. Since everything had fallen apart. Since she'd run.
Movement in the wings caught her eye, and she saw Donny shouting at her, gesturing with his palms up for her to step up the energy. He would be angry at her performance.
Her chest tightened even more, dreading the after-show recap with him.
Beside him stood Nora, her clipboard clutched to her chest. She shrugged at Tatum, indicating that she, too, had noticed the empty seat in the front row.
He wasn't coming.
She had to get over it. She'd come this far on her own. She didn't need him. Wasn't that the point she'd been trying to prove her whole life? That she didn't need anyone? Her mom had quit on her, choosing drugs over her own daughter. Her dad? She didn't even know who he was. Foster care? All hell, except for a gray-haired old man named Roger who had given her his old guitar and changed her life.
No. The guitar hadn't changed her life. She'd changed her life, and she didn't need anyone.
It was fine if Brody didn't show. Absolutely fine.
She could do this. She'd been on her own since she was ten, tossed between foster homes when her mom was in jail for drugs, sitting in their crappy apartment, watching her mom's chest to see if she was still breathing, or if she'd finally died of a life not worth living.