“Someplace safe” turned out to be Brady’s three bedroom townhouse on the outskirts of town. And he was right. It’s definitely safe. He’s got more deadbolts on his door than an apartment in Hell’s Kitchen in New York City, and his security system is more state-of-the-art than mine. He's turned the walk-in closet in his bedroom into a panic room, complete with a steel door and a keypad for entry and exit, and there is a table set up inside with monitors that show the entryway inside the front door and all around the exterior of the house.

I had barely glanced at his furnishings as he walked me through the home, showing me where everything was, and I regret that now. It's strange being here in his domain and around his things. A man’s home is like a window into his soul. It tells you if he’s a confirmed bachelor who never wants to grow up or a family man with a big heart who keeps pictures of his loved ones on his mantle and hung on his walls.

His sister and niece weren’t home when we got here but I can hear a female voice talking softly to Brady on the other side of the door now and I assume it’s Gwen.

“How long has she been in there?”

“I don’t know, a fucking long time,” Brady whispers angrily.

“Don’t get lippy with me. Did you even knock on the door to see if she was okay?”

“No. I figured she needed some space.”

“You’re an idiot. Women don’t need space even when we say we do. You should check on her.”

“You’re standing right there, YOU check on her.”

“I can’t just knock on the door of the bathroom Layla Carlysle is in! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Oh my God, she’s just a person. A normal, smart, amazing person. You can knock on the door, Gwen.”

I’d laugh out loud right now at their whispered argument if I wasn’t so numb. Hearing the two of them bicker back and forth makes me wish I had a sibling.

“I knew it! You really DO have a crush on her!”

“Will you shut up? I don’t have a crush on her. I’m not twelve,” Brady argues.

“Fine, then you’re in love with her.”

There’s a long stretch of silence outside the door, and I realize I’m holding my breath, waiting for Brady’s reply.

“You’re pesky. And annoying. Like a housefly. Go away,” Brady finally says, not responding to Gwen’s statement of love.

I let out the breath I was holding, not sure if I’m happy or disappointed that he didn’t say something in regards to Gwen’s comment, which is completely unfounded anyway. He’s not in love with me. That’s just silly. We’ve only known each other for a month, and we live in two completely different worlds.

I don’t hear any more of the conversation through the door and realize that they’re probably both just standing there waiting for me to emerge. I take a deep breath figuring I might as well get this over with. I walk over to the door and unlock it, turning the handle and opening it slowly. I glance around the door frame into an empty hallway, thankful that Brady and Gwen aren’t standing inches from the closed door and staring at it, waiting for it to open.

I make my way down the hallway and notice several framed photos hanging on the wall of Gwen and her daughter Emma, Gwen and Brady, Brady and Emma, and a few of all three of them together. There’s one last photo next to all the others of Brady and three other men in their Navy Dress Whites, and I know immediately that these are the men he talked about on our run, the friends he spoke so highly of and admires. I smile to myself despite how I’m feeling, realizing that Brady’s home is nothing like a college fraternity house.

I step into the living room and find Gwen seated on the edge of the coffee table and Brady pacing back and forth behind the couch with his hands clasped behind his head.

They both look up when I enter the room, and their jaws drop when I step out of the dark hallway and into the brightly lit room.

“Oh wow,” Gwen whispers, a smile slowly turning up the corners of her mouth until she’s full-on grinning at me.

“Holy shit,” Brady mutters as he stops pacing and his hands drop down to his sides.

I reach one of my hands up to tug self-consciously at the blunt ends of my hair that now rest an inch above my shoulders instead of eight inches past them.

“You look amazing!” Gwen says, standing up quickly from the coffee table and rushing over to stand in front of me. “I’m Gwen, by the way, and I love your music! I’m a huge fan!”

Her gushing and the genuine smile on her face as she stares at my hack job makes me feel a little better about what I’ve done. I eye the blue and purple streaks in her dark hair, and I immediately wish I had the guts to do something that drastic. I guess this will have to do for now.

“Thank you,” I tell her with a smile. “I’m sorry for taking over your bathroom for so long. And I promise I’ll clean up the hair all over the place.”

Gwen reaches out and rubs my arm gently.

“Nonsense. Brady is the neat freak, so he can worry about it while you and I watch some mindless reality TV before my whirlwind of a daughter gets home from school,” Gwen says with a laugh.

At the mention of Brady, my eyes leave hers and wander over to him as he stands perfectly still behind the couch staring at me. Gwen follows my gaze and I see her give her brother a dirty look and not so subtly nod her head in my direction.

“So, Brady. Doesn’t Layla look amazing?” Gwen prods.

Brady just nods dumbly without saying a word.

“Don’t you have anything to say to her?” Gwen says through her smile and clenched teeth.

After a few awkward seconds, he finally speaks.

“What is it about my bathroom that causes both of the women in my life to lock themselves in there at separate times and chop it all off?” Brady says with a shake of his head, throwing his hands up in the air in puzzlement.

I look back at Gwen and we both stare at each other’s hair before we burst out laughing. We’re laughing so hard that tears are falling from both of our eyes and Gwen clutches her stomach. At the tail end of our laughing fit, Brady walks up next to me, runs both of his hands down the side of my head, and holds them in place on either side of my face. He stares into my eyes for a few minutes with a soft smile on his face before leaning in and kissing my cheek.

“I thought it was impossible for you to be any more beautiful than you already were,” he whispers in my ear while Gwen gives us some privacy and turns on the television.

“Jesus, was I fucking wrong.”

I can hear the desire in his voice, and it makes my stomach flip with excitement. This day started out amazing and quickly turned horrifying. I breathe a sigh of relief because it looks like it might end on a more positive note.

Chapter 19

I snatch up my ringing cell phone and smile when I see who’s calling, despite all of the anxiety I’m feeling.

“Garrett, what’s up man?”

I hear a baby scream in the background and rustling over the line before he answers.

“Baby shit, lots and lots of baby shit,” he replies with a sigh.

“Does that mean married life is good or are you ready to throw in the towel?” I ask with a laugh, receiving a punch in the arm from Gwen who’s sitting next to me at my small kitchen table while Layla is showering and the bright morning sun shines through the window.

“Nah, things are good. Things are really good. Parker just got home from a photo shoot in Arizona, and Annie is finally sleeping through the night. It’s good having both of my girls under one roof, man.”

I can hear the smile and happiness in Garrett’s voice. For a minute, a feeling of envy washes over me. Garrett and Parker were able to work through some pretty fucking extreme odds in the last year, and they managed to make it work. They’re both happier than I’ve ever seen them, and it makes me suddenly wish I had that kind of happiness. I never thought marriage and kids would be in the cards for me, not wanting to find someone and then leave her alone every few months while I traipsed across the globe on SEAL missions. Now that I’m retired from the Navy and have a more stable job, not to mention an amazing woman who has worked her way under my skin, I feel more hopeful about the future for the first time in my life.

“So anyway, I got your message last night about looking into Jack Carlysle’s car accident,” Garrett says as I hear Parker’s voice cooing and laughing in the background.

I had left a message for Garrett the night before after Layla fell asleep on the couch with Emma snuggled up next to her. I felt like a pansy-ass for getting all emotional while standing in the room watching them sleep. Gwen and Emma are my whole life, and Layla is quickly moving into that same category. Seeing how well she gets along with Gwen, and then Emma when she got home from school, made my heart feel like it would burst out of my chest.

I tried contacting June at the bar to see if she could expand a little more about the suspicions she said she had involving Jack’s death, but I couldn’t reach her. I called Garrett in the meantime and had him do some digging.

“It took a while, but I was able to find out something a little weird. You said the guy died when his brakes went out and his car slammed into a tree, right?” Garrett asks.

“Yep, that’s what Layla told me, and all the news articles I read and the police report confirmed the same thing.”

I hear Garrett flipping through some pages for a few seconds before he responds.

“Here’s the strange thing. The day before the accident, Jack Carlysle had an appointment at the same garage he’d gone to for twenty years. Local establishment, same owner since the sixties, reputable place. And guess what he fixed?”

Garrett pauses and a feeling of dread fills my stomach before I answer.

“His brakes,” I reply softly.

“Ding, ding, ding! Correct.”

I shake my head in confusion and take a moment to make sure I can still hear the sound of the shower running down the hall where Layla is.

“If his brakes were recently fixed, how the fuck did they manage to go?” I ask angrily as Gwen looks at me with raised eyebrows.

“Well, I spoke to the owner, Bill, real nice guy, and I didn’t get any kind of vibe from him that he had any ill will towards Jack. He was genuinely upset about the whole thing and swore up and down that when he personally changed the brake pads and fluid, nothing was amiss and everything was in top shape when he finished,” Garrett explains.

“So someone got to that car after it was fixed,” I conclude. “Why the hell wasn’t this brought up with the police? Why didn’t Bill tell them there was no way something could have accidentally gone wrong with Jack’s brakes?”

Garrett sighs. “Jack’s vehicle was the last one Bill worked on that day. The last one he worked on ever, actually. He retired that day and closed the doors to his shop, something he’d been planning for over two years. That night, Bill got on a plane with his wife and flew to Spain. They spent three months all over that countryside and didn’t hear of Jack’s death until they came home. By that point, the cops had already closed the case as a cut and dry accident. Bill tried to file a report claiming someone must have tampered with the car so the police would reopen the case, but it was a no go. They didn’t see any merit in his claims and figured he was just trying to cover his own ass so the family wouldn’t sue him.”

I spend a few more minutes going over the details of what Garrett found and ask him to email me a copy of the statement Bill filed with the police, along with a copy of the work order form that day.

I hang up the phone just as a knock sounds at the door.

Gwen starts to get up to answer it, but I stop her with a hand on her arm.

“I’ll get it. Go check on Layla and make sure she was able to find the towels and anything else she needs. And not a word of what we just found out from Garrett, please. I want to make sure all of this adds up before I put one more thing on her shoulders for her to worry about,” I explain.

Gwen nods and heads off down the hall as I go to the door, looking out the peep hole before unlocking the deadbolts and throwing it open.

“Hey, Brady! What’s going on?” Finn says with a smile as he tries to walk by me and into the house.

I put my hand up on his chest, stopping him in his tracks, utterly confused by his jovial demeanor.

Finn sighs and we stand there staring at one another in silence for several long minutes. I don’t care if Layla did call him last night to explain things and have him bring some of her stuff over this morning. I still don’t trust him.

He finally shrugs his shoulders at me.

“Look, man, I’m sorry about being such a dick to you. Just look at it from my side of things. Layla and I have been friends for years. She’s been through a lot, and I just didn’t want her getting hurt again. I had no idea who you were or what your motives were, and I acted like an ass. I’m sorry.”

He extends his hand and I want to shake my head to clear it, wondering if I’m still asleep and this is a dream. Why the fuck is he suddenly playing nice with me?

“Come on, don’t leave me hanging,” Finn says with a laugh, his hand still out in front of him.

“Hey, Finn,” Layla says from behind me. I turn away from Finn, thankful for her interruption so I’m not tempted to grab onto his hand, yank him closer, and punch him in the face.

“Hi, Lay. Like what you’ve done with your hair,” he says with a smile as I finally step aside to let him in and close the door behind him. He hands her a small suitcase and the black leather Gibson guitar case that I’d noticed on the stage the other night at June’s.