An utterly unedited and pivotal ENTIRE CHAPTER of the upcoming final novel of the
Stewart Realty series, Good Faith.
This book is a long one, encompassing the growth and lives of the children of the original cast of characters plus various crises they encounter themselves. It is, in my opinion, an epic ending to an epic series.
Release date is November 13, 2013. I am hosting a little Stewart Realty-Con in Ann Arbor that weekend that will include parties at my Tap Room with live Stewart Realty trivia, beer and other surprise fun and a scavenger hunt on Saturday 11/16 that will culminate with a book signing for GOOD FAITH (and the other books in the series) at the
Ann Arbor Barnes & Noble store.
I am gifting you this free chapter to celebrate the
Liz Crowe Author Page on Facebook hitting (and well exceeding) 4100 "likes".
I have other exclusive deleted scenes from the entire series plus peeks at WIPs ONLY in the
Romance For Real Life private Liz Fan group you are welcome to join!
And now....chapter seven....
Brandis sat at the kitchen table,
his heart and skull pounding with anxiety and hangover. His parents were across
from him. His father’s face was stony and ominous. His mother’s resigned.
They were waiting on a response
from him but his aching brain wouldn’t cooperate and release an answer, or even
help him remember the question. Anger rose, followed quickly by nausea. He set
his jaw, hoping not to puke all over the table and make this scene a thousand
times worse. His mom started to get up, but his dad grabbed her hand and made
her stay seated.
“Answer the question.” The man
said, his voice low. Brandis blinked and in an instant was transported back to
one of those weird kid memories—the kind you never remember unless you try
really hard. But it was there, clear as day. He was about eight or nine, a
brisk fall Saturday and he and his dad were at their usual diner for breakfast.
He didn’t know how the whole “guys only breakfast” thing started but he did
enjoy it, mostly. He’d been scarfing down blueberry pancakes, bacon and
chocolate milk and they’d been laughing about something, Brandis didn’t recall.
But they had tickets to a Michigan State football game and were headed out to
East Lansing as soon as they were done eating. It had been the most perfect day
of Brandis’ life—probably still was. Just him and his dad and a football game
were ahead of him, no sharing with his sisters or anything.
He recalled gripping his dad’s
hand, such a huge seeming thing then, warm and safe as they walked to the car,
bellies full. His dad had taken some phone calls, like always as Brandis
settled into the back seat, ready to sleep his way North of Ann Arbor. But he’d
leaned up, put a hand on his father’s broad shoulder first. “I want to work
with you dad, someday. That okay?”
“Sure, son. That would be nice.”
Jack has patted his hand, put his phone away and started the Mustang’s engine.
A sweet, throaty roar filled Brandis’ ears—a sound he would forever associate
with his powerful, strong father. “Belt up. We have a game to catch.” He’d
said, smiling into the rearview mirror. Brandis’ heart had expanded then,
nearly burst open all over the back seat.
“If we work together we could get
up, have breakfast and stuff and…then you know…work.” He’d snuggled down into
the pillow after buckling up, a sense of peace suffusing his every molecule.
Brandis stared at his father now,
that sensation welling up inside him, making his eyes burn with alarming,
babyish tears. Jack’s face softened somewhat as he reached across the table and
grabbed Brandis’ hand. “Son, I need to know what happened with the girl. Did
you…did you boys force her to … shit.” His father got up, started pacing like
he always did, his huge personality filling the room and shoving both Brandis
and his mother against the walls. Brandis took a breath and tried not to yell.
“No. Dad, I would never do that.
But I know who did.”
“Was it Gabe?” his mother asked,
sitting, looking small and defeated.
“No! Please, seriously,” he waved a
hand and tried to focus. “I was drunk, Gabe was high, but when I heard her
yelling I ran over outside the firelight and found … them. I pulled him off
her, Dad, mom, I would never…” he gulped. He had been busy drinking and had
just come out of his own little tryst with a different girl. She’d given him a
killer blow job, if he recalled correctly—a crap shoot at this point.
Then when they’d come stumbling back to the fire, she’d let
Gabe grab her and kiss her, then they’d started dry humping until Brandis had
told them to take it somewhere else. He’d been relaxing staring at the fire and
picturing Blair when he’d heard the scream. The rest of the night was a little
fuzzy, but he had yanked the offending guy off the girl, punched him, if he
remembered right. And then, there were red and blue lights, cops, yelling, and
the cold confines of the police station. And now…
“I didn’t do anything to her. I
swear it.” He said, his voice hoarse. He wanted water, a shower and a nap.
“Son, you realize that you are
gonna owe me money for this infraction. And for the lawyer I’ll have to hire to
go to court with you for the M.I.P. charge.” Jack leaned on the counter, arms
crossed.
“Yeah.” He mumbled, a strange,
unexplainable fury starting to buzz in his ears. He’d told them already.
Wouldn’t they just fucking leave him alone. He ran a hand down his face.
“Excuse me?” His parents said in
tandem. He winced.
“I mean. Yes sir. Yes ma’m.” He
tried to sit up straighter but his head kept pounding.
“So, in addition, I’m taking your
car keys,” Brandis sighed and stared down at his hands. He’d expected this.
“And your laptop,” he looked up, panicked, trying to remember if he’d cleared
the cache of porn and realizing he would have to go old school and look at
magazines or something. His brain was already spinning around, trying to figure
out how he’d … “And your phone. You can have it at school and after practice
but then you give it me.”
“B-b-b-but,” he blew out a breath.
His father held up a hand, his blue eyes icy. Brandis’s heart sank. He so
wanted his father to approve, to like him. But he knew that look, had been on
the receiving end of Jack Gordon discipline enough times. Always doled out with
a quiet voice, deadly calm, his father’s judgment was written in stone. The
madder he was, the quieter he got. There was no point trying to argue.
He glanced at his mother who met
his eyes once then looked down. His skin hurt, his face burned, his entire head
seemed to echo with the massive silence that suffocated everything the room.
He got to his feet, wobbly, dizzy, needing to escape the
disappointment that hit him between the eyes—disappointment with him. He opened
the fridge and held back the urge to grab one of the beers there, to numb
himself, drink his way out of this horrible, disgusted with himself sensation.
His father held out a hand. Brandis
reached into his jeans pocket and tugged out his phone. After staring at the
screen long enough to determine that three of the six girls from the night
before had texted him wanting him to “hang out” with them again…soon. He
sighed, and handed it over. Jack glanced down at it, took in the messages and
raised an eyebrow at Brandis, a smile dancing around the edges of his lips.
“Give me that,” his mother
intervened, grabbing the device, then turning it off without glancing at the
screen. “You,” she pointed to him. “Go to your room. Don’t come out until I say
so. And you,” she poked Jack in the chest, startling him out a seeming daze.
“Go call Rob. He’s called me three times already.”
Brandis started down the hall, his
brain spinning, his feet as heavy as lead. By the time he’d showered, standing
under the hot spray long enough to make someone pound on the door and demand he
get out unless he wanted to pay the gas bill too, he honestly thought he could
sleep for days. He flopped face down on his bed, taking deep breaths of his
pillowcase, letting it take him back, way back, like it always did to his
boyhood. When things were so much simpler.
He jerked awake from a deep sleep,
dreams chock full of Blair, and then cops, and then his dad, and then Blair
again, which pissed him off so much his heart was pounding when he sat up,
alarmed. Strange noises, muffled sounding shouts hit his ears. His door opened
slowly and he saw his little sister there, her eyes full of tears. She handed
him a phone. Puzzled, he stared at her. “It’s for you. It’s Blair.”
He frowned, kept hold of the phone,
staring at Bethany like an idiot. “What?” She leaned in the door and wiped her
eyes with the shirt sleeve of a ratty Washtenaw football sweatshirt. He could
hear Blair’s tinny voice coming from the device. But he gripped his sister’s
arm. “What the hell is it Bethy?”
She burst into fresh tears, and he
held onto her, confused, terrified, as the phone kept squawking in his hand.
Finally he put the thing to his ear. “Blair?” he croaked out.
“Oh Brandis. I am so, so sorry.”
“Uh, for what?” he still had hold
of his sister, her small body heaving with sobs.
“Your grandfather. Brandis, he died
this afternoon.”
***
Sara sipped her lukewarm coffee and
watched Jack pace the kitchen. Back and forth, running a hand through his hair
and around the back of his neck. That little quirk she’d known and loved for so
long, made her smile. She tried to catch his eye, knowing better than to talk
at that moment. If she did, her head would be summarily bitten off, which would
make her mad, which would cause him more grief. And then this thing, they were
dealing with, their son and his slow descent into a strange, scary place would
only get worse.
So she sipped, running her finger
down Brandis’ phone. She turned it over, noted the giant green “S” for the
Michigan State Spartans and smiled. Jack had done a great job indoctrinating
the kid that was for certain. Jack had taken his role seriously, once they’d
established that Brandis required his father’s active presence, his full
attention.
He gave it, but in fits and starts.
Would take Brandis away for entire weekends, a couple of times for a week at a
time, plus the rarely skipped Saturday morning diner breakfast, just the boys.
And up until about two or maybe three years ago, that had been enough. Brandis
got into his fair share of trouble, mostly mischievous stuff—frogs in his
sister’s beds, and the time he’d let Bethany’s hamster loose in the tree house.
But now…tears made her eyes burn.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said, finally,
his voice low and defeated. She got to her feet. This whole parenting thing had
come at them early in their relationship. And had been strange from the
beginning, given that she’d kept Katie from him for nearly six years before
acknowledging how much she truly did need and love the man. The look in his now
was wild, lost, confused. It made her want to weep, to rip her hair, to throw
things. But she went to him and gathered him close. “I’m so sorry.” He held
onto her, gripping the edges of her sweatshirt as if to let her go meant he’d
literally drown.
The concept that she, Sara, was the
one giving comfort for what felt like the first time in their long, convoluted
relationship made her own tears dry up.
A contented feeling suffused her, made her skin flush in a way familiar
now that she’d entered the “hot flashes” side of her life.
They had been through so fucking
much. Floating into their older years, free of diapers, toddlers, and
babysitters had such appeal. Katie had proven drama free for the most part,
playing soccer, getting a scholarship, going to college in Florida and now,
with a very nice boyfriend that even Jack begrudgingly admitted might be worthy
of her.
“Sh…” she whispered, kissing his
shoulder, loving him so much she thought her chest might burst. “It’s okay
honey. Really. Don’t blame yourself. He’s just…a kid. It will be fine.”
Jack looked down at her, his eyes
dark and full of things she didn’t understand. That made her a little dizzy so
she stepped back, keeping her hands on his arms. She could feel the strength of
him, his arms, his body, under her hands. Suddenly, she needed to be with him,
truly with him. She stepped close again, molded herself into his familiar frame
and pressed her lips to his stubble-coated neck. “I love you,” she whispered.
“So much.” Her hand roamed down his back, needing to feel skin and not
clothing.
He shifted, and she felt him harden
against her. Smiling, knowing this was what they needed, right now, no delay.
He kissed her then, urgent, demanding, back-walking her until her ass hit the
granite covered island.
“Hang on, let’s not do this here,”
she whispered, pulling him down the long hall to their bedroom. Sex with a
familiar, well-loved partner did have its advantages when there were kids in
the house. Buttons get pushed, release is achieved, thanks to years of
dedicated practice on each other. They hit their bathroom, tearing at clothes,
lips locked in urgency.
The orgasm snuck up on her, making
her gasp and grip his bicep. “Yes,” she sighed, turning his lips to hers,
needing his kiss. As their lips were locked, she unzipped his jeans, allowed
herself a few minutes to stroke the heat of his erection.
“Turn around,” he growled.
She bent over the vanity without a
word. He filled her, completely, slowly, his fingers dug into her hips. She
raised up, gripped his hair and moaned when his lips and teeth found her neck
and shoulder. “God,” she sighed as he reached around with one hand and stroked
her then cupped a breast, pinching hard on her nipple.
“Baby,” he sighed, increasing his
pace, shoving her into the island. “Sara,” he groaned, letting go her breast
and propping one hand on the countertop next to her. “I’m gonna…I need to…” he
leaned over her, buried his face in her hair.
Sara arched her back, needing him
even deeper. “Harder,” she cried out, threading her fingers in his on the
island’s top. She watched them, their hands, older now, but no less eager. She
sensed a fresh release on the horizon, the glorious, breathless sensation of
climax as he shuddered and stroked deep, his voice a hoarse whisper of
satisfaction. He draped himself over her, then pulled out, smacked her ass and
then tugged her up, kissing her, sweet, sexy, just like she liked it.
“Mmm hmm…” he sighed, putting his finger
to her lips. “Nice. I needed
that.”
“Me too,” she said, tugging her
shorts up. She kissed him softly, helped him reassemble his clothes then sent
him towards the kitchen, wobbly but with a grin on his face she loved to see.
Sara cleaned herself up, washed her
hands, then caught sight of herself in the mirror. Her hair was wild, half
falling out of the tie back, her green eyes were bright with the familiar “just
fucked by Jack” look he liked to point out to her.
Then her brain darkened as reality
hit. Her son had a minor in possession charge, was in all manner of trouble. He
drank, she knew. He had sex, a lot, she also knew. He was just sixteen. A sob
broke from her lips but she covered her mouth, then splashed water on her face.
She had to hold it together.
She heard a phone ring, then Jack’s
rumbling baritone in answer. A cold chill stole down her spine, something she’d
not felt since….she threw the bathroom door open and hurried down the hall to
the kitchen, watching as her husband sat, his handsome face in his hands as he
listened. He held out a hand and she went to him. He pressed his face into her
belly, gripping tight like he’d done earlier, as if holding on for his very
life. She tilted his chin up, already knowing, somehow, what he was going to
say.
“My dad,” she whispered, running
her fingers through his damp hair, feeling tears on her cheeks. He nodded.
“Your mom will be over from hospice
in about an hour.” He said, standing and folding her into his strong embrace.
They stood together in the kitchen and she cried, but felt loved, completely
and knew that everything would be all right at that moment.
“Okay,” she said, puling away and
wiping her face. “This will take some doing,” she collected the coffee cups and
made a fresh pot acknowledging just how far they had come in one morning. It
was nearly three o’clock when she opened to door to find her mother, small,
stoic, flanked by the tall blond man who’d been Sara’s brother’s lover for so
many years, and his wife, Lila, her dark eyes red-rimmed and haunted.
Sara’s first thought—that it was good to see Rob and Lila together again
for a change—was quickly overtaken by her mother’s sniffle. She turned and
guided Beth Thornton into the living room, already mentally moving on to the
next stage of her life, one without her father in it anymore.
Coming Saturday, June 16, 2013:
HOUSE RULES
the Jack Gordon novella
FREE on the publisher's site (link to be added here soon)
.99 everywhere else.
You will want to grab this to bracket you Stewart Realty reading experience. Jack's backstory says a LOT about where and how he ends up by the end of the saga and about his son, Brandis, whose story GOOD FAITH truly is....
