BooksBarbecue
Back Sweet Surrender
Chapters (73)
  1. TITLE PAGE
  2. TABLE OF CONTENTS
  3. PRAISE FOR K. BROMBERG
  4. ALSO WRITTEN BY K. BROMBERG
  5. CHAPTER ONE
  6. CHAPTER TWO
  7. CHAPTER THREE
  8. CHAPTER FOUR
  9. CHAPTER FIVE
  10. CHAPTER SIX
  11. CHAPTER SEVEN
  12. CHAPTER EIGHT
  13. CHAPTER NINE
  14. CHAPTER TEN
  15. CHAPTER ELEVEN
  16. CHAPTER TWELVE
  17. CHAPTER THIRTEEN
  18. CHAPTER FOURTEEN
  19. CHAPTER FIFTEEN
  20. CHAPTER SIXTEEN
  21. CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
  22. CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
  23. CHAPTER NINETEEN
  24. CHAPTER TWENTY
  25. CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
  26. CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
  27. CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
  28. CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
  29. CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
  30. CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
  31. CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
  32. CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
  33. CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
  34. CHAPTER THIRTY
  35. CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
  36. CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
  37. CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
  38. CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
  39. CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
  40. CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
  41. CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
  42. CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
  43. CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
  44. CHAPTER FORTY
  45. CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
  46. CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
  47. CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
  48. CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
  49. CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
  50. CHAPTER FORTY-SIX
  51. CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
  52. CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
  53. CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
  54. CHAPTER FIFTY
  55. CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE
  56. CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO
  57. CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
  58. CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR
  59. CHAPTER FIFTY-FIVE
  60. CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
  61. CHAPTER FIFTY-SEVEN
  62. CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT
  63. CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
  64. CHAPTER SIXTY
  65. CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
  66. CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
  67. CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
  68. CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR
  69. CHAPTER SIXTY-FIVE
  70. CHAPTER SIXTY-SIX
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. EPILOGUE TWO
  73. ABOUT THE AUTHOR

But today for some reason, I want to believe there could be the other side to this. The weight of our past isn’t gone, but maybe—just maybe—it’s lighter. I’d always felt so abandoned by my brother. I used to cry myself to sleep when I was younger. Not because my dad didn’t choose me—my anger was too deep for that—but because I lost my brother that day. And life became exponentially lonelier from that day on.

“And I was your big brother. I was supposed to protect you, and I didn’t.”

How do I let go of that hurt? Because, fuck, for the first time, I want to.

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

Hendrix

The house is alive with noise and laughter when I walk through the front door. Music drifts in from the backyard, and I follow the sound, stepping onto the patio to find a crowd of about twenty or so people—men and women—in the pool, at the bar, or at one of the three tables set up for poker.

Jase and his bandmates all sit at the same table, drinks in hand and cards scattered across the surface.

The whole backyard is a lesson in people watching, but it’s Jase’s table that holds my attention.

It’s fascinating watching them interact—like a well-oiled machine built on inside jokes, competitive jabs, and an easy camaraderie that speaks of years spent together. I observe from afar as they rib each other mercilessly, and yet every word spoken is laced with affection.

I lean against the railing, quietly observing. Jase’s eyes find mine across the yard, and warmth settles in my stomach. With his simple smile at me, he’s invited me into their world.

This is his family. His world. And he’s allowing me to step into it. The gravity of that doesn’t go unnoticed by me.

“You gonna play, Hendrix?” Rocket calls out, raising an eyebrow. “Or should I say, Mrs. Rocket?”

Clearly, there’s a joke there that I don’t get. The four of them bark out in laughter and Jase throws something at him in disgust.

“Um. Not sure how I’m supposed to respond to that other than to—” I move toward them and hold up my ring finger and wiggle. The guys erupt in another fit of laughter and razzing. I yelp when Jase pulls me into his lap like I belong there, his arms lazily draped around my waist, and his warm breath on my skin as he nuzzles his chin on my shoulder.

“Hi, Mrs. Gizmodo,” he murmurs and presses a kiss to the side of my neck. My body heats at the intimacy of it.

We’re at a table with all of his best friends and yet, he quietly lets me know my place, that I belong.