After the Rain Read online

  AFTER THE RAIN BY BRANDY BRUCE

  Published by Bling! Romance

  an imprint of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas

  2333 Barton Oaks Dr., Raleigh, NC 27614

  ISBN: 978-1-946016-73-7

  Copyright © 2019 by Brandy Bruce

  Cover design by Elaina Lee

  Interior design by Karthick Srinivasan

  Available in print from your local bookstore, online, or from the publisher at: ShopLPC.com

  For more information on this book and this author visit: www.authorbrandybruce.com

  All rights reserved. Noncommercial interests may reproduce portions of this book without the express written permission of Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas, provided the text does not exceed 500 words. When reproducing text from this book, include the following credit line: “After the Rain by Brandy Bruce published by Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas. Used by permission.”

  Commercial interests: No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, photocopy, recording, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, and incidents are all products of the author’s imagination or are used for fictional purposes. Any mentioned brand names, places, and trademarks remain the property of their respective owners, bear no association with the author or the publisher, and are used for fictional purposes only.

  All scripture quotations, unless otherwise indicated, are taken from the Holy Bible, New International Version®, NIV®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984, 2011 by Biblica, Inc.™ Used by permission of Zondervan. All rights reserved worldwide. www.zondervan.com. “NIV” and “New International Version” are trademarks registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by Biblica, Inc.™

  Brought to you by the creative team at Lighthouse Publishing of the Carolinas:

  Eddie Jones, Shonda Savage, Jessica Nelson

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Bruce, Brandy.

  After the Rain / Brandy Bruce 1st ed.

  Printed in the United States of America

  PRAISE FOR AFTER THE RAIN

  Once I started reading After the Rain, pausing for the “real world” felt like a cruel method of torture! Truly, this heartfelt sequel of rallying after life’s breathtaking disappointments is everything I could have hoped for and more. Brandy Bruce has weaved together a bittersweet tale that had me laughing and crying within a mere three words. Filled with loss, love, and beautiful life, After the Rain will forever be in my heart, sitting on my shelf of favorites.

  ~V. Joy Palmer

  Author of Love, Lace, and Minor Alterations

  After the Rain is a brave story of heartbreak and hope, of picking up the pieces and starting over. Debra’s story of a life sent detouring down roads she never wanted or imagined and finding beauty and healing in the unexpected will stay with you long after you turn the final page.

  ~Kara Isaac

  RITA® Award–winning author of Then There Was You

  This story will strum its way into your heart like the chords of a great love song. Debra Hart’s journey from broken to free is a beautiful testament to the powerful love God sings over us all. After the Rain is more than a typical inspirational romance—it offers a glimpse into the hard questions of faith and trust and what it really means to love. For rock stars and wannabes and everyone who appreciates the art of music and falling in love.

  ~Lindsey Brackett

  Award-winning author of Still Waters

  Brandy Bruce has done it again with this moving romance featuring heart-broken Debra Hart, who is rebuilding her life in Denver after losing everything that mattered to her in Texas. The splashes of humor, vibrant characters, and realistic picture of emotional healing add up to a gripping story that offers laughter, tears, and love.

  ~Liz Duckworth

  Author of A Perfect Word for Every Occasion and Wildflower Living

  After the Rain is Brandy Bruce’s highly anticipated sequel to The Last Summer. A brilliant standalone novel that will tug on your heartstrings and inspire you to cheer for Debra.

  ~Narelle Atkins

  Author of Solo Tu

  For Ashtyn and Lincoln and Lillian.

  There will never be one moment of your lives

  when I am not hopelessly in love with all three of you.

  CONTENTS

  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

  A Note From The Author

  A Gift for You

  Thank you for investing in this book. As a thank you, LPC Books would love to offer you advance review Kindle copies of our forthcoming books. These Kindle ebooks will be delivered to your Kindle reader. We release around 40 books a year. You pick which ones you wish to receive. Visit the link below to sign up for our FREE Kindle ebook subscriber list:

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  Chapter One

  All love can end in a snap.

  West Side Story

  DDEB, I MISS YOU. I THINK ABOUT YOU. JUST WANTED TO SAY IT AGAIN.

  I read the text from Lillian—Lily—Spencer as the elevator doors opened. Then I tucked the phone into my small purse. I walked toward the exit of the condominium building I called home now, catching a glimpse of myself in one of the mirrors on the wall.

  This woman—with short hair, ringlets barely brushing my shoulders. Dark colors, chocolate-colored eyeliner—nervous about a simple thing like going to a coffee bar. I didn’t recognize her.

  I stopped mid-hallway and leaned against the wall, my heart hurting.

  I’m starting all over.

  No.

  I closed my eyes. I’d cried all the tears already. None were left. But the pain didn’t stop. A reminder of how much I’d loved Luke Anderson. How ready I’d been to link my story to his for forever.

  But he’d chosen my friend Sara.

  Quiet, ladylike, sophisticated, predictable Sara.

  “Debra?”

  My eyes opened. Cassidy and Jake, my neighbors, stood in the hallway, looking worried. I must have seemed ill. With one hand, Jake carried a baby car seat. Inside it, their five-month-old daughter, Gilly, slept soundly.

  I pushed myself off the wall. “I’m okay,” I said without eye contact. I walked straight out of the building to my car and drove downtown.

  Here’s the thing about 16th Street in downtown Denver—it’s crazy. The old me would love it. The post-heartbreak-and-devastation me only half liked it. I parked in the cheapest parking lot I could find, then walked down the busy outdoor mall to reach Percival’s Island. I passed a multicolored statue of a bull and a man who was entirely spray-painted in gold. He seemed to be pretending to be a statue. I’m okay with weird, but that was downright creepy.

  I’d finally texted my new and only friend, Paige, letting her know I was joining her and her friends at Percival’s for an Irish coffee and some live music. Now my phone dinged every second. Paige seemed beyo
nd excited that I’d said yes after two months of refusing to go out on the town with her and her friends. Really, one friend was all I needed, but Paige took persistent to another level. The Last text had five smiley-faced emojis and three pink hearts and a message letting me know she’d be waiting outside for me.

  Paige liked me and I liked her. But she didn’t know me. Not really. Only the shadow me. The post-Texas version of myself.

  I walked fast, the Colorado breeze blowing through my hair and tickling my neck.

  As promised, Paige stood out front, beaming at the sight of me. With her ruffled shirt, baggy jeans, and glowing skin without much makeup, all Paige needed was some daisies in her hair and she’d look like the perfect flower child. A leather pouch was slung over her head, looped from her shoulder, and rested on her hip. Turquoise earrings dangled to her shoulder. In another life, I would have wanted those earrings.

  “Yay!” She hugged me tight, then pulled me inside. The place pulsed, and I began to relax with the beat. The light looked a bit hazy and people filled every table in sight. Paige ordered two Irish coffees and we joined a group of her friends right near the stage. The crowd didn’t bother me. Once upon a time I had liked places like this.

  We edged in at the corner; two chairs had been saved for us. I had a perfect view of the stage and the band as they were setting up. A guy grabbed the microphone and the crowd started to yell.

  I sipped my spiked coffee.

  Paige squealed with excitement. The drums started slow, then picked up. People started to clap, pound tables, whistle.

  Then he started to sing.

  And gosh, that sound. The whistles died down as his voice started low, building. The room quieted under the spellbinding sound of his voice. Low, melodic, hypnotizing, honest.

  Music had done nothing for me for months.

  I’d loved singing for as long as I could remember and had played the guitar since high school. During my time in Texas, I’d taught music lessons to a few middle schoolers. I’d worked at radio stations since college, being surrounded by music day in and day out. Going to concerts had literally been part of my day job.

  After Luke broke up with me, music had lost its sway with me. I couldn’t care less about harmony and composition and lyrics. Music didn’t comfort me. It didn’t spark me to rage. It didn’t bring me to tears—God knows I didn’t need music for that.

  But at that moment, in time with the compelling beat, something small moved in me.

  He sang about lost love, about heartbreak, shattered pieces being glued back together. In the haze of the blue lights, it was difficult to really see the singer’s face. I’d never heard of the band or the song. None of that mattered. It was the music that reached me.

  When the song finally ended, the room burst out in applause. The lead singer thanked the crowd for coming and within moments, they began a second song.

  “Deb.” Paige touched my shoulder as she stood. “I’m going to get two more coffees.” I nodded, but the drums were distracting me. Deep and rhythmic. A perfect match for the rich baritone of the lead guy. The bass player was all kinds of cool, thrumming chords and moving his head to the music, every movement in perfect sync with the guy out front. By the third song, I was hooked and wanted to download everything this group played. After several more songs, the singer pulled over a barstool to perch on and then grabbed his acoustic guitar.

  “Feel this one with me, guys,” he said, and I held my breath with the rest of the room. The backup singer—unfairly pretty with straight black hair, a slim figure, and black boots that any girl would kill for—started humming first, and I couldn’t believe how good she was just at humming! Her hair swished as she moved and started scaling notes.

  The singer joined in with her, and he sang about looking for something. Lyrics about searching, for a girl at first, then he realizes that she’s not what he’s after. And he’s searching—thirsty, wanting, seeking. The seeking makes him feel alive.

  I loved every note. After that, he seemed a bit emotionally spent, and when the applause died down, he told the crowd the band was taking a short break. The backup singer stepped up and squeezed his shoulder before exiting the stage. One of those couples. The ones that fit so well and whom everyone envies.

  For the record, I don’t like those couples.

  Paige scooted her chair even closer to mine, which was barely possible. Now that the music had been replaced by loud, growing chatter, Paige introduced me to everyone at the table. After the hellos, she nudged me. “So?”

  “Okay, okay. You’re right, they’re really good. What’s the name of this band again?”

  “Twenty-Four Tears.”

  “They must be local. I’m shocked I haven’t heard of them before. Do they have a label?”

  “Paige.”

  Paige twisted around. I did too, responding to that voice. The lead singer had suddenly appeared directly behind us.

  “Ben!” She tried to stand, but our chairs were basically hitched, so the guy just leaned down for a hug. A sweaty hug, I might add. He was drenched. I understood, of course. I felt drained and I hadn’t even been the one singing.

  “This is my friend Debra,” Paige said, pointing at me.

  The guy looked at me. “Ben Price.” He shook my hand.

  “Hi.” I wanted to tell him how much I loved the music, but I couldn’t find the words. Or my voice.

  “Can I sit with you guys for a second?” he asked, grabbing an empty chair nearby. The crowd had dissipated, mostly migrating to the bar for refreshments before the music started back up. But still, he was stopped every other second by people talking to him. I liked how gracious he was, taking time to say thank you. Once he sat down, right by me, nearly everyone at the long table greeted him. I realized that he and Paige knew the same people because they all interacted like friends.

  I felt a bit odd since I really didn’t know anyone except Paige.

  “How are we doing so far?” Ben asked, leaning over a bit closer to me.

  I looked at Paige, then figured out he was talking only to me. “Um, good. I mean, great.”

  He just smiled. He smelled like sweat, to be honest. But like concert sweat, which I was cool with. I didn’t want to look at him, but he was there, talking to me, so I had to.

  He was cute.

  I looked away as much as possible. He had rock-star appeal down to a T. Lean but muscular. Permanent stubble on his face. A tattoo snaking its way down his arm. Longish hair. Damp from water or sweat, I didn’t want to know. Callused fingers from years of playing the guitar. A smile that sizzled.

  What seemed like a lifetime ago, I might have flirted with him. Certainly I would have been chatty, asking him questions and telling him exactly what I liked about every song. But chatty took too much work these days.

  Paige had been drawn into conversation with the group at the other end of the table, so it was just me and Ben. That did make me feel sorry for him. It was his night and he was stuck talking to me.

  “Paige invited me,” I told him, just for something to say.

  He nodded. “How’d that last song go? It’s our first night playing it.” He looked genuinely concerned.

  “It was perfect,” I assured him. “Your backup singer is a powerhouse.”

  “Yeah, she’s legit. Karis can hit crazy notes. She should be headlining her own band, but she doesn’t feel ready yet. Twenty-Four is lucky to have her.” His hair was thick all over but longer on top than in the back, and he tucked swooped bangs back behind his ear.

  “How long have you guys been together?” I asked, speaking of the band.

  “Me and Karis? We’re not a thing. Just friends.”

  I had no doubt my face flushed red at that moment. “I meant, how long have you guys been a band?”

  “Oh!” He laughed. “A little over a year. And Bryce, the bass player, and I have been friends since college. I’ve known Seth for a year. He can play almost anything. We’re tight. We’re all tight.” He s
ipped his bottle of water. “So the song was perfect, huh?”

  I made the mistake of making eye contact with him. “I thought so. You sang it like you’ve lived it. The crescendo felt like magic.”

  He blinked. Light brown eyes, dark brown lashes. Tan skin—there was no doubt he spent a lot of time outside. He finished his water bottle, and I spotted another tattoo on the inside of his wrist.

  “You know music,” he said in a matter-of-fact kind of way.

  That was too much. The guy was intuitive to a fault. Good songwriters always are, and I had a feeling he’d written those words he’d sung.

  I looked up at the stage, where the others were setting back up. “I used to.”

  “Ben!” The drummer called his name, but he kept his eyes directed at me.

  “Debra.”

  My neck tightened at the sound of my own name. Crazy maybe, but I didn’t want to hear a guy say my name. It took me back to that night in my apartment.

  Luke, looking stricken and begging me to let him go. “Debra.” Pain and regret saturating his voice. And I didn’t care. I just wanted him to take it all back and stop breaking my heart and ruining my life.

  “Debra,” Ben said again. I sighed before looking up at him. He was searching my eyes, I could tell. Looking for my story.

  I could have told him that it wasn’t worth telling. The drummer called for him again, and with a final look, he joined the others onstage.

  Late that night, after the last song, Paige and I left Percival’s together. Even in June, the Colorado night air could get a bit cool. I didn’t mind. We trailed behind a couple of her other friends as we walked down 16th Street, which was in no way ready to go to sleep despite the late hour.

  “I’m going to ask because I’m on a roll here. Will you please come to my church Sunday?”

  I laughed. “You’re on a roll? I finally say yes to one night out, and . . .”

  “And that’s progress,” Paige insisted. “It was fun.”

  I linked my arm through hers. “Yes, it was great, and I’m glad I came. Church is another story and you know it.”

  “I know,” she agreed. “Just come. Please. One time. It’s a great church. I think you’ll like it. If you don’t, no pressure to ever come back. Let’s go Sunday and I’ll treat you to brunch after.”