REBEL HEART

  BRIGHTON WALSH

  CONTENTS

  Content Notes

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  Other Titles By Brighton Walsh

  About the Author

  Coming home to find out my ex is my new roommate is a nightmare…especially when I’ve been pretending to hate her for years.

  Harper Davidson has been ingrained on my heart since we were kids, and now she’s tattooed on my skin. But she’ll never know about either. Not when she’s better off thinking we’re enemies.

  Having her in my space every day and sharing a wall with her every night is a challenge I never saw coming. A challenge I’m not sure I’m up to.

  Especially when our daytime games turn into nighttime dares, pushing each other to the breaking point until our neighbors know exactly who’s making her scream.

  As lines blur and feelings deepen, we begin teetering on the edge of something more. And it's becoming harder to pretend that this is nothing—that she is nothing.

  Because this second chance is starting to feel like a last chance.

  It’s always been her for me, but I’m broken beyond repair and don’t know how to be the man she needs. These demons in my closet are never silent, and I’ll do anything to keep them from dragging her down with me.

  Even if that means letting her go again.

  CONTENT NOTES

  Please be advised that this book contains content that may be upsetting for some readers. Should you prefer detailed information in order to have the best reading experience, please visit the author’s website or scan the QR code below to view a full list of content notes.

  For the brave ones fighting to live another day.

  The world needs you.

  CHAPTER ONE

  LEVI

  Some days, I would’ve preferred to throw my phone into the ocean than be on the receiving end of another fucking alert from the family text thread. It was a continuous stream of trivial bullshit, generally instigated by my little sister, so I rarely responded. And yet, the thread moved on just fine without me.

  It made me wonder what else would move on fine without me.

  Made me wonder what it’d be like if I just…didn’t exist anymore. If my family were preparing to commemorate the eleventh anniversary of my death instead of our mom’s. If I’d been the one who’d died on the boat that day instead of her. Or if my death had happened in the hundreds of other ways I’d willed it to over the years through reckless behavior alone.

  But I knew why it hadn’t. Why I was still here, going through the motions. Left to suffocate under the weight of my regrets.

  I didn’t deserve anything less.

  I deserved to witness the wreckage I’d caused. To see the pain reflected on my siblings’ faces. Feel the heavy loss, not only of my mom, but of theirs, too, every day of my miserable life.

  Addison:

  Seriously

  It’s in just a few weeks

  I need to know

  Stop ignoring these texts, Levi!

  Since our mom’s death, I’d broken one of her only rules more times than I could count. Never sail alone. I’d gone out on the ocean on my own dozens—hundreds—of times, and nothing had happened, despite all my spoken and unspoken wishes otherwise.

  I was still fucking here.

  Yet she went out once by herself in a storm, and it was all over. A beautiful life snuffed out, taken away far too soon.

  And it was all my fault.

  Addison:

  @Levi

  @Levi

  @Levi

  Beck:

  Jesus, will you stop? Go to his workshop if you need an immediate answer FFS.

  Aiden:

  It doesn’t matter how often you tag Levi. You know he’s not responding.

  Addison:

  BRADY

  Do a drive by

  Brady:

  I’m on duty, Addison.

  Addison:

  Perfect!

  Ford:

  Pretty sure that wasn’t a yes, little D.

  I glanced over at my phone, the preview screen showing more than a dozen texts, all from my siblings and that fucking group text. Beck was on my shit list for suggesting our little sister pop over to my den of solitude, and Aiden was right. I had no intention of responding. Ford was, too, for that matter. As town sheriff, Brady definitely wasn’t going to use Starlight Cove resources to satisfy Addison’s demands.

  The familiar hum of the belt sander filled my workshop, the sound soothing me in the same way the ocean’s waves did. Wood shavings rained down as I guided the machine along the hull of my current project. This ancient boat had seen better days, but it wasn’t a lost cause. Not yet anyway. In my fifteen years in this industry, I’d only encountered a handful of vessels that were. With grueling effort on my part—and a shit-ton of money on my clients’—most boats could be transformed back to their former glory, assuming I was the one restoring them.

  My clients didn’t get a sparkling personality or excellent customer service when they worked with me, but they did get the best boatbuilder and craftsperson on the East Coast. And I got to make a living with minimal human interaction. Win-win all around.

  Out here in my workshop, it was just me and whatever boat I’d been commissioned to build or fix. Exactly how I liked it—everyone leaving me the fuck alone.

  Shutting off the sander, I swiped a forearm across my brow just as my phone buzzed with another text. My jaw ticked as I glanced over, prepared for more family bullshit, but it was my best friend’s—now brother-in-law’s—name on the screen.

  Chase:

  Don’t forget you have somewhere to be tonight.

  Dropping my head back, I groaned toward the high ceiling. I hadn’t forgotten. It would’ve been impossible to since Chase had reminded me half a dozen times. But that didn’t mean I hadn’t tried.

  Visiting his parents’ home was the last thing I wanted to do today—or ever, really. I loved the Lockharts like family, but going to the place that had been such a staple in my adolescence meant excavating memories I’d rather leave buried.

  Without responding, I focused back on my work, running my hand along the hull of the 1930s Hacker-Craft. When she’d arrived at my workshop, a little worse for wear, I’d already been able to envision how this beauty would look once she was fully restored to her former glory. I wouldn’t stop until I made it happen. I reached for the sander, ready to dive back in, just as my phone buzzed again.

  Chase:

  I’m serious, dickhead. Stop ignoring everyone’s texts. Somehow my wife’s mad at ME for YOUR bullshit.

  I had half a mind to text back and tell him I wasn’t ignoring anything—how could I when a text came in every thirty fucking seconds and constantly pulled me away from what I was paid to do?—but that I was simply choosing not to respond.

  Chase:

  No excuses about tonight. I already told Mom you’d be there, so she’s making your favorite. Don’t make her come find you because you know she will.

  “Fuck.” Resting my elbows on my knees, I brushed the sawdust from my hands and blew out a heavy sigh.

  Chase’s mom, Marianne, was the closest thing my siblings and I’d had to a mother in more than a decade. Being our mom’s best friend, she’d stepped up during our darkest days, when our own worthless father couldn’t be bothered to. Even when she didn’t have to. Even when we’d made it difficult. Even though I still made it difficult.

  Which was why skipping out on one of her dinners made me an asshole.

  I grabbed my phone and typed out a quick response.

  Levi:

  What time?

  Chase:

  5. Dad’s out of town for work, so she wants help with some shit before dinner. And bring wine.

  It was already after four, which meant I needed to haul ass if I didn’t want to be late. After putting away my tools and locking up the warehouse, I headed the couple blocks to my apartment, doing my best to dodge all the wanderers. People were every-fucking-where—far more than usual—and that only soured my mood
further.

  Once at my apartment building, I took the stairs two at a time and let myself inside. The space was small, but it was quiet and away from my family’s resort. Most importantly, it was mine. That was all I needed.

  After a quick shower, I pulled on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, ran a hand through my hair, and called it good enough. I made a quick detour to the kitchen to grab a bottle of Marianne’s favorite wine before heading out.

  With the carnival beginning tomorrow and running through next week, tourists had already started flooding Starlight Cove, making Main Street a fucking nightmare. Navigating my bike through this clusterfuck would take too long, so I strode straight for the marina. The familiar scents and sounds of the ocean washed over me, solace and pain mingling together as always.

  And, as always, I shoved the solace aside, undeserving of it, and focused on the pain instead.

  CHAPTER TWO

  LEVI

  The motors on my fully restored trawler hummed as I eased up to Chase’s parents’ dock. After tying off and shutting down the engines, I stepped onto the weathered planks and made my way up the hill toward the place that had been my second home since childhood.

  The Lockharts’ beachside house had been theirs for decades, but Chase had recently talked his parents into finally allowing him to pay for renovations. Like he always said, what good was all that pro-hockey-player money if he couldn’t use it on the people he loved?

  I knocked twice on the slider before opening the door and stepping inside, just like I’d done a hundred times before. Voices boomed from the back of the house, so I headed in that direction.

  “Chase,” Marianne said, exasperation heavy in her tone. “You have to be gentle with my babies. They aren’t one of your hockey pucks that you can slam around wherever you want.”

  “I don’t slam them wherever I want, Mom. I artfully and skillfully slap them into the net.”

  “Well, I don’t want you to slap these anywhere, either. This is an African violet, and Bonnie⁠—”

  “Who the hell is Bonnie?” Chase grumbled.

  “—doesn’t do well with your giant man hands. Where’s Levi? He knows exactly how the plants—Bonnie included—need to be handled.”

  “Oh, because Levi has such delicate hands? We’re the same size, Mom.”

  “All I know is not a single one of my babies fell ill⁠—”

  “Fell ill?” Chase snorted.

  “—when Levi helped me set up your old room as my plant nursery. And I just think—oh!” She spotted me in the doorway and shot a warm smile in my direction. She was petite, dwarfed even more standing next to Chase’s 6’3” stature, her gray-streaked blond hair pulled back into a ponytail. “There you are, honey. Just the man I wanted to see.”

  Chase glanced over his shoulder at me. “Oh good, there’s delicate Levi with his tiny man hands, ready to save the day.”

  I shoved the bottle of wine I’d brought into his stomach, causing him to let out an oomph. “I can’t help that your mom loves my hands and all they can do.”

  Chase gripped the neck of the wine bottle and pointed it in my direction like a weapon. “Don’t you ever fucking say that again.”

  I shrugged. “You’re banging my sister.”

  “I married your sister, you ass clown.”

  “Doesn’t matter. I still get a permanent free pass to say whatever I want to your mom.”

  Marianne clapped her hands once, the sound as sharp as a coach’s whistle. “Boys! I swear, you’re worse now than you were when you were twelve. At least back then, we had Harper to temper things a bit.”

  A brick to the face would’ve been less jarring than that mere mention of her name. Just hearing it was a sledgehammer to my chest, same as it’d been for more than a decade. Memories of what we’d once been tried to surface before I shoved them down, locking them up tight where they belonged.

  “Now, if you want to eat at a reasonable time, we need to get choppin’.” Marianne pinned both of us with her patented Mom Stare. Then, to me, she asked, “You remember what I told you last time?”

  I dipped my chin in a nod, grateful for the distraction. “Gentle hands make for happy plants.”

  “That’s right.” With her brows raised, Marianne gestured to me while shooting a pointed glance at her son. “You see? Levi understands.”

  “Did you want me to contact my lawyer about drawing up some adoption papers?” Chase asked. “You’re already making his favorite meal instead of mine, so we might as well make this official.”

  Marianne swatted her hand through the air before settling it on my back, her touch warm and gentle as she rubbed soft circles against me. “We don’t need a piece of paper to tell us what we already know. Levi’s been like another son since day one.”

  That was true. Chase’s parents had treated me like a part of their family my entire life. Even when I’d tried to push them away—something I’d done a whole fucking lot, with everyone in my life, some more successfully than others. And even when I didn’t deserve it.

  “Why are we moving all these out of here anyway?” Chase asked, carefully cradling the plants Marianne handed to him. “Didn’t you just set this up because your kids weren’t giving you grandchildren fast enough?”

  “Yes, well.” She sniffed. “Since my eldest child and only son decided to go off and elope without me, his father, or any of his sisters in attendance—or even word that it was happening—I thought maybe things were progressing quickly. And I want to be ready for those grandbabies! The least you could do after shutting us out of the most important day of your life is to give me my dying wish—to have grandkids to spoil before I leave this earth.”

  My heart stopped…just froze in my fucking chest. I snapped my gaze to Marianne, eyeing her from head to toe and looking for any obvious signs of illness or distress. Panic gripped me by the throat at the thought of losing her after everyone else. A million thoughts raced through my mind, all focused on what was wrong, what I could do to help, how I could stop it. Actually stop it this time.

  But when I slid my gaze to Chase, I realized he wasn’t concerned at all.

  With a scoff, he rolled his eyes. “You’re not dying, Mom. Don’t say shit like that. Jesus Christ, I swear you’re as dramatic as my wife.”

  As subtly as I could, I released the pent-up breath I’d been holding and willed my heart to settle back into a steady rhythm. All while keeping up the facade that everything was fine. That my heart hadn’t plummeted to my feet, that I hadn’t gone straight to worst-case scenarios.

  It’d been ten years—eleven in just a few weeks—since my mom had died, and shit like this still had me in a choke hold.

  Marianne grinned at her son. “Is it any wonder you love us both beyond measure?”

  “Never been a wonder for me,” he said.

  “Oh, you.” Marianne walked up to Chase and pinched his cheek before patting it lightly. “Always my sweet boy. But I still don’t forgive you for making me find out you got married on one of Mabel’s Lives.”

  “I knew I should’ve slipped that woman more money,” Chase grumbled.

  “I’m not sure what you expected when you asked the town gossip to officiate. She even mentioned the gift basket she was sending your way—full of a variety of toys designed to give a woman plea⁠—”