If Only (The Willowbrook Series Book 1) Read Online Free PDF Page A

teachers liked him for his affinity to help the underdogs. If a kid was being bullied or made to feel left out, Lucas was the first to speak up on that kid’s behalf.
    Hell, if Rhys hadn’t brought Asa under his wings those first days of school, Lucas would have. He was just that kind of guy. Too bad his mother had died and left him with a shithead of a stepdad. And too bad Eve couldn’t find the courage to continue to love a broken guy like Lucas.
    Cold, Rhys tucked his head to his chest, shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and returned his thoughts to the weather as he headed to the grocery store. Almost an hour later—the majority spent waiting in a long line—he drove back to Willowbrook.
    On the drive, he flipped through radio stations, but every song reminded him of Asa. It didn’t matter whether the tune was happy, sad, or downright raunchy. Finally, he switched off the radio.
    Up ahead, he spotted the “Private” sign in front of the dirt road that led to his grandmother’s place and Asa’s home. Suddenly, the return drive was too short.
    Continuing down the dirt road, his throat tightened, and he blinked several times before he stopped and parked between the two homes. The inside of Asa’s home was dark, just like his grandmother’s.
    Rhys didn’t want to get out, the emptiness in Jo’s place a reminder of what he had lost—his only living relative. Hunching forward, he clasped the steering wheel, prepared to stay in the truck until he was ready to let his grief overwhelm him in Jo’s house of memories.
    At least the truck held nothing of her connection to him except for the black dice with pink polka dots he’d won for her at the fair. Those hung prominently on the rearview mirror.
    While he stared into nothingness, the workshop behind the house grabbed his attention. Inside was his KTM dirt bike. Fuck, why not take it for a spin before the storm arrived?
    He got out of the truck and, not bothering to lock the door, slammed it shut. No special gear for this ride. Jeans and his thickest jacket would do while his helmet would be there for him, still strapped to the handlebar of the KTM.
    On Jo’s key ring were five keys. Two were for the house, one for the truck, and the other for the workshop, which left the last key for his dirt bike. For Jo, he would take laps on the track she had paid for, her faith in him evident in the strategically placed curves and whoops.
    With renewed purpose to his strides, he made for the shed and shoving the key in the lock, gave the double doors a good push. They swung open, and he eyed the orange and black beauty of his old dirt bike. For you, grandma. For believing in me .
    He smiled though his chest ached like he’d free fall off of a jump only to smack into the dirt. Taking a deep breath, he told his grief to take a hike. His grandmother would say, “Chin up, chest out. Now stop your huffing and puffing and just do it.” Yeah, he would celebrate his grandmother’s life rather than grieve over her death.
    The seat was smooth beneath his hand, and he wiped the dust off and onto his jeans. Grabbing the handlebars, he steered the bike out of the workshop. He hopped on and steadying the machine between his thighs, tugged the helmet on, revved the engine, and took his old KTM from his teenage years for its final ride.
    The corners were rough, but he hugged them tight, and watched from his peripheral vision as the rear tire kicked up wet dirt into the cool air. Then he hit a whoop and soared toward the heavens. Letting go of the handlebars, he closed his eyes. For a split second, nothing existed but the innocence of the clouds.
    Opening his eyes, he gripped the handlebars just as his front wheel hit dirt. A big smile on his face, he took the bike for another lap. Maybe next time, he’d make a grab for heaven. Yeah!
    High from his adrenaline rush and lost in the moment, Rhys hadn’t realized another rider was also on the track until the guy passed him on his left,