Fearless Read online

  Praise for Abby Brooks

  “Abby Brooks is a wizard with Beyond Us—entertaining and pure enjoyment!”

  Adriana Locke—USA Today and Washington Post bestselling author

  “A masterful blend of joy and angst.

  Praise for Abby Brooks

  “With just the perfect amount of angst and remarkable character development, Abby Brooks has crafted a masterpiece…”

  Praise for BEYOND WORDS

  "Once again Abby Brooks creates a world filled with beautifully written characters that you cannot help but fall in love with.”

  Praise for BEYOND LOVE

  "A lovely story of growing beyond your past, taking control of your life, and allowing yourself to be loved for the person you are."

  Melanie Moreland—New York Times Bestselling Author, in praise of Wounded

  “Abby Brooks writes books that draw readers right into the story. When you read about her characters, you want them to be your friends.”

  Praise for Abby Brooks

  Fearless

  A Wildrose Landing Romance

  Abby Brooks

  Copyright © 2021 by Abby Brooks

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  Cover image copyright © 2021 by WANDER AGUIAR PHOTOGRAPHY LLC

  Cover design by Abby Brooks

  WILDROSE LANDING

  Fearless

  Shameless

  THE HUTTON FAMILY

  Beyond Words

  Beyond Love

  Beyond Now

  Beyond Us

  Beyond Dreams

  It’s Definitely Not You - Joe’s story

  The Hutton Family Series - Part 1

  The Hutton Family Series - Part 2

  A BROOKSIDE ROMANCE

  Wounded

  Inevitably You

  This Is Why

  Along Comes Trouble

  Come Home To Me

  A Brookside Romance - the Complete Series

  WILDE BOYS WITH WILL WRIGHT

  Taking What Is Mine

  Claiming What Is Mine

  Protecting What Is Mine

  Defending What Is Mine

  THE MOORE FAMILY

  Finding Bliss

  Faking Bliss

  Instant Bliss

  Enemies-to-Bliss

  THE LONDON SISTERS

  Love Is Crazy (Dakota & Dominic)

  Love Is Beautiful (Chelsea & Max)

  Love Is Everything (Maya & Hudson)

  The London Sisters - the Complete Series

  IMMORTAL MEMORIES

  Immortal Memories Part 1

  Immortal Memories Part 2

  AS WREN WILLIAMS

  Bad, Bad Prince

  Woodsman

  Contents

  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

  Epilogue

  Shameless sneak peek

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Acknowledgments

  Recipes

  Also by Abby Brooks

  Connect With Abby Brooks

  Chapter One

  Evie

  Amelia Brown squished my cheeks so hard my lips poofed out, gave them a pat, and smacked a kiss to my forehead. “Evie. Darling. Smile for me, sweetness. Opportunity hides in every disaster. This is a chance to come back stronger. To learn. To grow.”

  I mentally added an exclamation or three after each of her sentences and the smile she requested bloomed. With the jingle of jewelry and perpetual optimism, my best friend swept into the kitchen in the apartment we’d been sharing for the last several months, then returned with a bottle of tequila and two shot glasses.

  She gave them a wiggle. “We’re gonna celebrate.”

  “Ahh, yes.” I tucked my legs underneath me and hugged one of her many pillows to my chest. “Not only am I living on your couch because my ex is a terrible excuse for a human being, but now I’m unemployed. Definitely a reason to celebrate.” Despite my sarcasm, an odd blip of hope swelled in my heart.

  Sometimes you have to burn to the ground to rise from the ashes.

  That thought sounded more like it belonged in Amelia’s head than mine. Maybe I’d read it on some of her motivational wall art.

  She plonked the bottle of tequila onto her coffee table and folded herself into a sitting position on the floor. “You’re inviting negativity into your life with that attitude.” She glared, which made her as ferocious as a kitten in a field of daisies. “If you listen closely,” she continued, “your higher self and spirit guides are whispering. They’re telling you what you need to know, and I promise you, losing that job is a very good thing.”

  I didn’t believe in spirit guides. Or tarot readings. Or any of the woo-woo weirdness Amelia built her life around, but I loved her for it anyway. Besides, whether I believed her or not, I couldn’t ignore the feeling that my change in employment was a Very Good Thing Indeed.

  Capitalized. Underlined. Bolded.

  “All right, then.” I scooped up a shot glass and held it her way. “To new beginnings.”

  “That’s the spirit!” With a massive grin and a twist of the cap, Amelia cracked open the tequila and filled both glasses. She tossed hers back and I followed suit, widening my eyes and huffing a breath as it burned down my throat.

  “I can’t remember the last time I did shots.”

  Amelia paused mid-pour. “Hmm. Me neither.” With a shrug, she downed her second shot and graced me with a grin that said we were in for some fun.

  “Tonight, we’re gonna rewrite everything that jackass said when he fired you. We’re gonna build you up because, Eveline, you are so fine.” She giggled at her silly rhyme and handed me my next shot. “It’s time for you to unleash your real self on the world.”

  I tossed it back as she poured another. “It’d be nice if creepy men would stop unleashing themselves on me.”

  Five hours ago, my boss sat me down and broke my world by saying I was an acceptable writer, with piles of unrealized potential, but I played things too safe. The man I’d thought of as a mentor stared me in the eyes and said, “Evie, if you were a color, you’d be taupe.”

  Not powerful, sophisticated black.

  Not cool, calm, has-it-together teal.

  Not fiery red or sweet-as-candy pink.

  Freaking taupe.

  “You weren’t like this when I hired you,” he’d said, then went on to tell me I blended into situations like muzak in a department store. Unobtrusive. There, but not.
You could bob your head without realizing. Hum along without caring. Then leave with a song you hated stuck in your head for days.

  I was boring. Bland. He said my new personality seeped into my writing. In a world that ran on drama, outrage, and preferred YouTube to newspapers, he couldn’t keep waiting for me to remember who I was.

  As if that didn’t hurt enough, he doubled down.

  He told me when he hired me, he’d gotten the feeling I might be useful one day, but if I wanted to make myself useful right then, on my knees, he’d consider keeping me around. Pride stinging but dignity intact, I hightailed it out of there and had only looked back long enough to file a complaint with HR.

  “Why did he have to go there?” I asked Amelia. “‘I might be useful someday?’ It’s almost exactly what Drew said when he broke up with me…” I clamped my mouth closed.

  Drew had said a lot of awful things that day and I’d be better off forgetting them all. My ex-boyfriend didn’t deserve one more ounce of my energy. He’d taken enough from me already.

  “Whenever a theme repeats through our lives, it’s something our guides want us to pay attention to.” Amelia threw back a shot, then jotted down the worst things my boss said on a scrap of paper.

  Safe. Boring. Bland. Timid. Blow me.

  “Okay. Now. Choose one word to overwrite all of that crap. One word that will define Eveline McAllister from this point forward.”

  She handed me the pencil with a flourish worthy of life-changing events. I studied those oh-so-taupe words written in her decadent script and imagined my life the way I wished it was. Who did I want to be? How did I want to live? When the answer came to me, I couldn’t scrawl my answer fast enough.

  Fearless.

  The scratch of the lead across the paper was a battle cry. The extravagant stroke of that final S was my declaration. I added an exclamation point for emphasis. Then another. Then, drunk on power, tequila, and the desire to put my past behind me, I scratched a harsh line under the word.

  With a decisive nod, I dropped the pencil onto the table. It clattered and rolled as Amelia leaned in to see what I’d written. A smile bloomed as her sparkling eyes met mine. “I like it. No. I love it. It’s perfect. Who wouldn’t want to be fearless?” She stood and spun in a slow circle in the middle of her living room. Her boho skirt fluttered around her ankles. Her bracelets jangled. Her beachy waves danced down her back.

  She was so over the top.

  So comfortable in her skin.

  So not afraid to be her.

  She inspired me to fall in love with myself the way she had—or at least make peace with my flaws. Amelia Brown was the most fearless person I knew, and I would do myself justice by learning to be more like her.

  Caught up in her optimism and the swirling burn of courage in my stomach, I bobbed my head in agreement. Fearless! Perfect! Heck friggen yes!! I was even thinking in exclamation points! That had to mean I was on to something! Right? Right!

  She pulled me off the ground and poured another shot for both of us. How many was that? Two? Three? Tequila flowed so fast and furious, I’d lost count. With the abandon only found on the line between tipsy and drunk, we clinked our glasses and tossed them back.

  “Real change needs energy, Evie.” Amelia scooped the list off the table, dropped it in a bowl, and lit it on fire. She waved a hand through the smoke like she was gathering it into her palm, then released it toward the ceiling. “Watch it burn and know.”

  “Know what?” I quirked my head.

  She pressed a finger to my lips. “Just know.”

  When the paper was smoke and ash—which did feel cathartic—she grabbed the tequila and led me to the window, both of us managing to trip on her skirt.

  When did it get so long?

  “Let’s not focus on the past right now. Let’s focus on looking forward.” She pointed outside, like my future was on the sidewalk, staring up at us. I didn’t think it was, but peered down, just in case. “Now that you don’t have to sell your soul to Smallington City Paper you can focus on writing an actual book.”

  It was everything I could do not to snort. There would be no book. Not from me. Not after what happened with Drew.

  “I might be better off to figure out where I’m gonna live first. I know you said I could stay here as long as I wanted, but I’m sure you miss your privacy. And your living room.” The streetlights and passing cars outside the window blurred and swayed. I blinked to refocus my eyes as Amelia handed me the bottle and I took a swig. “I guess I could move into the house my Great Aunt Ruth left me.”

  The letter had arrived the day Drew kicked me out of our apartment. I’d been shocked, especially considering I hadn’t seen Ruth since I was two and she dropped a home in my lap right when I needed it most.

  “I thought we agreed you’d stay with me.” Amelia threw an arm over my shoulder and the scent of vetiver, her favorite essential oil, slapped me in the face. She said it kept her centered, grounded, and happy. To me, it smelled like dirt and mossy stone. Though, after five years, it also smelled like my best friend, which meant it kept me centered, grounded, and happy, too—and given the rollercoaster my life had been on lately, I’d take all the grounded I could get.

  “Sweetie, I can’t live on your couch forever. Besides, we decided I wouldn’t move because the house is far enough away that the commune would be awful.” That didn’t sound right. “Commune? Commu…”

  “Compute?” Amelia smiled helpfully.

  “Driving would take too long. The back and forth is too big.” We stared at each other for a few ridiculous seconds then burst out laughing.

  Amelia hiccupped. Staggered. Then put a hand to her heart as her eyes widened with realization. “Oh my gosh. I understand now. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before!”

  “See what before?” I cupped my hands to the window. My breath fogged up the glass and I swiped it away, but still didn’t find what had her so excited.

  “We’ve been looking at this all wrong. That house? It was a hint from the universe and since you didn’t take it, your second hint came with more oomph. You know, like losing your job?”

  My jaw dropped at the magnitude of the implications. I’d been receiving hints from the universe. First Drew and the awful, terrible things he said and did to me. Then, the house. Now…my job…

  It was at that point I realized I was drunk. When Amelia started talking about hints from the universe and I joined in, something wasn’t right.

  She took the scenic route back to the couch and lowered herself with a sigh. “Maybe you’re supposed to move to this place. You have pics, right?”

  Nodding, I cracked open my laptop and clicked on the images the lawyer emailed me after I got the letter, grimacing as I awaited Amelia’s swift and harsh judgement.

  I didn’t wait long.

  “You own a house that looks like that and you’re still sleeping on my couch? I mean, it has a name! Sugar Maple Hill.” Sighing dreamily, she swiped the bottle from my hands and took several long swallows.

  “Sure it’s beautiful, but the communism…” That wasn’t the word I wanted. I blinked, listening to the hum of tequila whistling through my brain. Had that bottle been full when we started? It certainly wasn’t anymore.

  “Community?” Amelia clearly had no idea what I was talking about but was eager to help anyway.

  “The long drive. The commute. Commute!” I giggled. “That sounds weird, doesn’t it?” I tried out the word several more times just to be sure. “Anyway, it’s a gorgeous place but apparently, everyone in Wildrose Landing thinks it’s haunted.” I flopped onto the couch and leaned my head back, letting it roll to the side to stare at my friend’s shocked face.

  Amelia shot upright and gripped my shoulders. “You’re trying to be fearless, and you inherited a haunted house! No wonder you lost your job! You weren’t paying attention to the signs! Evie!”

  I didn’t believe in either ghosts or signs, but her exclamation points were contagio
us. I climbed to my knees and grabbed her shoulders in return. “Do you really think so?”

  “I know so. And you know what else I know? We’re going to spend the weekend in that house. Your house. And we’ll bring all your things in case you decide to stay.” She pointed at the screen and shimmied. “I wonder if we’ll see the ghost. Ohh! I wonder if he’s like, a handsome ghost! How cool would that be?”

  It’d be hard to find any evidence of a ghost, handsome or otherwise, because they didn’t exist. I considered saying as much, but the more Amelia shimmied, the more I wanted to join in. Haunted or not, moving to Wildrose Landing and starting from scratch would be a pretty fearless move.

  Maybe I’d write a book.

  Maybe I’d fall in love.

  Maybe I’d find my destiny, waiting for me in a quaint New England town.

  Amelia’s shimmy slowed. Her face turned a queasy shade of green. She hiccupped, then dashed for the bathroom.

  Or…maybe we’d had too much tequila.

  Chapter Two