Table of Contents

  THEN YOU HAPPENED

  PROLOGUE

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FORTY

  CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX

  CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE

  CHAPTER SIXTY

  CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE

  CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO

  EPILOGUE

  COMING SOON

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG

  “K. Bromberg always delivers intelligently written, emotionally intense, sensual romance . . .”

  —USA Today

  “K. Bromberg makes you believe in the power of true love.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Audrey Carlan

  “A poignant and hauntingly beautiful story of survival, second chances, and the healing power of love. An absolute must-read.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Helena Hunting

  “A home run! The Player is riveting, sexy, and pulsing with energy. And I can’t wait for The Catch!”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Lauren Blakely

  “An irresistibly hot romance that stays with you long after you finish the book.”

  —#1 New York Times bestselling author Jennifer L. Armentrout

  “Bromberg is a master at turning up the heat!”

  —New York Times bestselling author Katy Evans

  “Supercharged heat and full of heart. Bromberg aces it from the first page to the last.”

  —New York Times bestselling author Kylie Scott

  “Captivating, emotional, and sizzling hot!”

  —New York Times bestselling author S. C. Stephens

  ALSO BY K. BROMBERG

  Driven

  Fueled

  Crashed

  Raced

  Aced

  Slow Burn

  Sweet Ache

  Hard Beat

  Down Shift

  UnRaveled

  Sweet Cheeks

  Sweet Rivalry

  The Player

  The Catch

  Cuffed

  Combust

  Worth the Risk

  Control

  Faking It

  Resist

  Reveal

  K. Bromberg

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

  Copyright © 2019 by K. Bromberg

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

  Published by JKB Publishing, LLC

  ISBN-13: 9781942832195

  ISBN-10: 1942832195

  Cover design by Helen Williams

  Cover Image by PeopleImages

  Formatting by Alyssa Garcia at Uplifting Author Services

  Printed in the United States of America

  This book is dedicated to the broken ones:

  To the person with a broken heart.

  To the reader whose trust has been broken.

  To the woman feeling broken because she lost sight of who she was for a moment.

  You’re not alone.

  Keep your heart under lock and key.

  Keep your trust guarded.

  Keep your chin up.

  One day this will all be just a memory.

  The hurt.

  The lack of confidence.

  The loss of self.

  Hopefully you will rediscover your own resolve as you watch Tatum stand her ground.

  Hopefully Jack will help you realize that trust can be given again.

  Hopefully the two of them will give you hope that love can be found again.

  You found parts of me I didn’t know existed and in you I found a love I no longer believed was real.

  — j. iron word

  PROLOGUE

  TATE

  “You walk out that door, Tatum Valor, and you might as well leave your last name here when you do.”

  I stare at my father—at his stern face and too-proud posture, at his gray eyes, which are the same color as mine, and the hurt in them—and see the life he wants me to lead. One that matches the Waterford crystal vases strategically placed around his dining room—pretty to look at, serving no real purpose, and displayed simply to let others know how successful the Valor name is. I glance out the front door to Fletcher’s truck parked across the street. His head is bent forward as he looks at something on his phone, and all I can see is a future with him. No reprimands to act like a Valor. No leashes holding me back from pursuing the things I want to try and fail and try again without embarrassing the family name. Nothing but the blissful unknown stretched out for miles before Fletch and me. Nights full of laughter and love as I help him fulfill the dreams he’s had since he was a little boy, and I figure out the woman I am and who I want her to become.

  Excitement swells as my obstinance holds fast.

  “What are you going to do, Dad? Disown me?” I snort. “I’m a grown woman who can make her own decisions, thank you very much.”

  It’s his turn to make a noise, and it sounds one hundred percent like disapproval. “Ah, to be twenty-three and think you have all the answers.” He takes a step toward me, the chuckle he emits anything but humorous. “You don’t know a thing.”

  “What do you think, I’m incompetent? I graduated college at the top of my class. I traveled Europe for a year on my own. I seemed damn capable of making decisions for myself then. I was—”

  “Doing all of that with my money paying your way.”

  His words are cold but honest and rub me the wrong way because he’s right and there’s nothing I can say to refute him.

  “True, but your money always comes with strings.”

  “Just as your last name does.” We wage a visual war in the room that holds so many memories for me. Family gatherings and celebrations. Holidays and laughter. Traditions done the Valor way. I wish I could see the good times through all the disappointment and anger billowing around us. “And it’s not as if you complained when you were enjoying the benefits that either of them had given you.”

  “This is ridiculous,” I mutter when he just keeps staring like I’m going to wither under his scrutiny like the little girl I used to be did.

  Then the fear of the unknown creeps in as his threat lingers.

  Is it the threat itself or the worry of doing wrong by him that the threat brings? Or maybe it’s the going against him part when I’ve always danced to his tune.

  There’s no way he’d disown me if I left.

  Would he?

  The dead silence eats at me, and the certainty I felt when I walked in here to tell him I was leaving dissipates. I’d assumed he’d be angry but that he’d get over it.

  I’m not sure if he will.

  Not now.

  “I meant what I said. You walk out that door . . .”

  Tears well in my eyes because the decision a twenty-three-year-old must make between family duty and self-fulfillment is never an easy one.

  “You don’t mean that,” I whisper when I meet his eyes, more than afraid that he actually does.

  “If you think I’m going to pat you on the back and congratulate you while you throw everything away . . . you’re crazy.”

  “Throw everything away?” My voice rises in pitch and I don’t care that I just committed a cardinal sin in this house—raise my voice to my father. “Maybe I’m just growing up and want to see the world. Maybe I need to find my place in it. Maybe—”

  “And maybe you’ve met
a man who tells you all the right things so that you’re blind to all the wrong things about him.”

  My shoulders square in response. “You’ll say anything to keep me here. The question is, why, Dad? Don’t you want your kid to go out and spread her wings? Don’t you trust the wisdom you’ve given me to make the right choices?”

  “I’m looking at the choices you’re making and not trusting much of anything at the moment.”

  Screw you.

  The words want to fall from my lips but don’t.

  “He’s a boy, Tate—”

  “He’s a man. We’re not teenagers—”

  “And yet you’re acting like one by throwing away everything you’ve worked for, all of your talent, all of your hard work, by being with him.”

  “I thought you said my hobby was a waste of time.” Every time he told me my photography was taking away from real hobbies runs through my mind. “Now, all of a sudden, when it’s in your favor, you tell me I’m talented. Why?” I ask, disbelief marrying with the anger coursing inside me.

  “It was never a waste of time . . . but you spent two years in one of the top photography programs in the country.”

  “Going to Yale was your requirement, not mine—”

  “And then you spent the last year working your way around Europe to build your portfolio—”

  “For what, though, Dad? So I could come home and you could tell me who I should date? Who I should marry so I can give you the most desirable offspring and keep you in the right circles so I don’t embarrass you?”

  “Stop acting like a child, Tatum.”

  “Then stop treating me like one!” I shout, frustrated and furious and disappointed this hadn’t gone a different way.

  My father crosses the room and looks out the front window. He stares at Fletcher’s truck, and I know all he sees is the dented fender and the faded paint, not the quality or the character of the man behind its wheel.

  “You working on your craft is more important than anything.”

  “I will be working on it.”

  “Not in some Podunk town. You should be here in Baltimore where you have the right resources and the right connections and—”

  “And where you can tell me what to do and who to associate myself with?” I sneer. “This is total bullshit.”

  “That’s enough!” His voice thunders, and when he turns to meet my eyes, the vein in his neck is bulging and his jaw is clenched. “You want to just throw away everything you did for the past seven years? All that education and talent? Your future?”

  “You don’t understand . . .” My words hit him and fall flat, his expression unwavering.

  And I know that if I spend one more night in this house, I’ll suffocate. Adventure I can find easily, but the strings attached with having Valor as a last name, the pretenses I must continually maintain, kill every ounce of creativity I have.

  That, and there’s Fletcher.

  “I’m warning you. If you walk out that door . . .”

  “But I love him!” Fear begins to tinge the exasperation that owns every part of me.

  “You don’t have a clue what love is yet. How can you?” His voice resonates with anger as my mom presses a trembling hand to her lips. Somehow, she knows—like I do—that there is no going against the wishes of Renquist Valor III without a life-changing fallout.

  “You don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

  “Like hell I don’t,” he thunders as he points to Fletcher’s truck and my suitcases lying in its bed. “Do you think he’s going to be with you when the money runs out? Do you think that, when times get tough and the pipe dream he has of breeding horses falls flat, he’ll still love you? Men like him are all the same. They take and take and then take some more. It’s all fine and dandy when your mommy and daddy are helping foot the bill, but sweetheart, how long do you think he’ll stick around once mommy and daddy say enough is enough?”

  “When did you become so judgmental? When did people who didn’t have money become less than us?” I shake my head and realize I no longer idolize the man standing in front of me. In fact, I hate him. “You’re not being fair.”

  “I’m not? You think I don’t know that you poured some of your monthly trust payment into fixing that heap of his out there? You don’t think I know you plan on using your money to help him buy the land and the horses and everything else he needs to prepare for failure? I may be old, Tate, but I’m far from stupid.”

  My hands fist and teeth grit as I hold back the words I want to scream at him: it’s my money; I can do what I want with it.

  But I don’t say a thing because he won’t hear me. He’s already made up his mind.

  “Dad—”

  “I wish I’d listened to my gut and never let you ride,” he says the sentence like one big swear.

  “Why? Because the stable hand I met at the country club isn’t good enough for me?”

  “You’re goddamn right he isn’t!” I jump when his fist slams onto the table at his side, my mom’s beloved Kosta Boda vase rattling as her yelp fills the room.

  I glance to her and taste the bitterness of her rejection. How can she not step in and defend me? How come she isn’t telling my dad he’s wrong?

  “It’s a hard lesson to learn, and I hate that I even have to teach it to you . . . but if you walk out that door, that’s it. The money you have in your savings is yours, but your trust fund is cut off. There will be no calls home asking for more. There will be—”

  “So that’s the leash you’re strangling me with to stay? You’ll cut off my trust fund in the hopes that I’ll come crawling back begging for money?” I huff out a laugh, part disbelief that he said it and part gratitude over the huge transfer I just made from my trust account to my personal savings account.

  “Yep.”

  “And then, of course, you’ll give me the ultimatum that, if I want my money, then I have to leave him?”

  “No worries there. If the money runs out, he’ll already be gone.” My father’s voice is barely a rumble of sound, but it’s deafening to me.

  “And if you’re wrong?” I shake my head and cross my arms over my chest, suddenly cold when there’s no chill in the air.

  “I’m not. How does a man know how to be a man when he’s never even known his father? Knox isn’t even his father’s last name, you said so yourself.”

  “You’re grasping at straws—”

  “And his mom? She’s no better with how she entertains the men at the club with her more than particular skill set. Money may not pass hands but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t get paid for it in one way or another. Fletcher’s rumored to be a result of that. Did you know that? Raised with seeing the revolving door of men who use money like water and throw it around as a way to cover up a mistake. Are you telling me that’s the family you want to be associated with?” He steps forward, and it takes everything I have to not grab onto his arm and shake some sense into him. To tell him he’s wrong.

  But I don’t know if he is because Fletcher won’t talk about his parents. When I ask questions, he just shrugs them off and says they’re dead to him. Regardless, my father’s accusations don’t matter, though—none of what my dad says does, because when Fletcher and I are together, it’s just us and no one else.

  That’s all we need.

  “Apples don’t fall far from the tree, young lady.”

  “I guess in some cases they do because I’ll never be like you.” My vision blurs momentarily as I lose the battle against my tears. “I’ll never judge another person like you’ve judged Fletcher. Just because he doesn’t have a trust fund and didn’t go to an Ivy League school, it doesn’t mean he isn’t worthy.”

  “Don’t put words into my mouth. Don’t you dare stand there and act as if you have a clue what you’re talking about when your mother and I have spent your whole life protecting you from that big bad world out there and from being taken advantage of by people like—”

  “People like who, Dad? Like him?” My voice ratchets up in disbelief with each word, and my heart wrenches in my chest just as painfully. “Just because he hasn’t grown up with an easy life like I have—”

  “Easy?” he bellows. “Easy? You think building all of this was easy?” His cheeks flush and his eyes bulge, and I hate everything about him in this moment. The elitism and the holier-than-thou attitude. The fancy watch on his wrist and the imaginary stacks of money he can’t seem to find his moral compass through. “We worked our asses off to get our family where it is. To give you the best of everything and set you up for a life of success. And you want to throw it all away on a boy who doesn’t deserve you.”