Don't Let Go by Jaci Burton Read Free Book Online

he’d come back to Hope. He hadn’t been super outgoing or friendly, and he certainly hadn’t been dating anyone. Frankly, it had happily surprised her that he’d even agreed to come over for dinner tonight.
    The man had some demons, and she was beginning to understand why. But she had a lot more to learn about Brady Conners. She wanted to know more, and she wanted to help him in any way she could.
    And if there was a way, she wanted a lot more of that passionate kissing he’d laid on her.
    Because . . . wow.
    *   *   *
    TOO PENT UP to sleep, Brady headed down to the paint shop that night to work on a custom bike job.
    It was a beauty of a Harley that a guy wanted painted. He’d given Brady a photo of what he had in mind, but Brady always did his work freehand. He’d applied the black layover paint earlier, and now he was adding the design.
    He’d painted zombies before, and he liked making each bike unique. He visualized how he wanted the gas tank picture to look, then started to paint, adding the features and distorting them.
    Once he started a design, it always seemed to flow out of him and onto the bike, a rhythm that kept him going for hours.
    The small paint gun was an extension of his hand as he let the art transfer from his mind to the bike. This was where he could relax, where he could reach his zen. It was quiet here, only the sound of the paint spraying onto the bike. He didn’t even have to think, only visualize what was in his head and get it onto the metal.
    Just the way he wanted it, a mindless melding of his hand and the bike, and no other distractions. He went at it for a few hours, then finally took a step back to check the work.
    Yeah, that was perfect. He was sure the client would be happy with the result. The guy would have some undead on his bike. He’d finish it off tomorrow night.
    Kurt would have loved the scene he just painted. They’d played zombie killers all the time when they were kids, and had always talked about painting zombies on their own bikes someday. They’d spent hours and days coming up with zombie paint schemes, envisioning all the different ways they’d use their ideas at their custom bike shop when they went into business together.
    That had never happened, because Kurt had totally fucked up his life.
    And then he’d overdosed and died.
    Brady wiped his hands and tossed the rag in the corner. He washed up, then reached for a toothpick, shoving it in his mouth when all he really wanted right now was a goddamn cigarette.
    But he was stronger than his urges.
    Too bad his brother hadn’t been.
    Brady wished he could go back in time, back to right after high school when he’d found Kurt snorting coke inhis room. He’d ignored it then, shrugging it off as something his brother was just messing around with.
    A passing phase, he’d figured. He’d even asked Kurt about it, and Kurt had said it was just partying. No big deal.
    But it had been more than partying. It had become more and more frequent, and coke had turned to meth, and meth had turned to heroin.
    Brady had tried time and time again to get Kurt to stop. Kurt had told him at first that he had it handled, that he could get off of it at any time. And eventually, he’d just stopped telling him that and told him to go away, to leave him alone.
    Brady stepped outside to draw in a deep breath of night air, and stared up at the moon, wishing he could somehow fly up there to get far away from those memories of Kurt that had settled over him tonight and refused to let go.
    He walked up and down the alley, willing something—anything—to enter his mind other than his brother.
    But he could see Kurt’s face right now, and that was all he could see, his memories firmly implanted in the past.
    There had been a few arrests for possession, and Kurt had even stolen money from him.
    Their parents had intervened, and Brady had gotten