Brendon by Nicole Edwards Page B

that.”
    “Tell me what it was like growin’ up at your house,” he said.
    Figuring she would have to open up to him sooner or later if she wanted this relationship to go anywhere—and she really did—Cheyenne gave it some thought. Taking a deep breath and losing herself in her memories, Cheyenne began. “My parents were around until I was eight, I think. Maybe nine. Third grade, I know that much. I remember so many nights my grandmother would come over and stay at our apartment, sleeping on the couch so she could keep an eye on me while my parents went out. They had a lot of friends—most traipsed in and out of our house whenever they felt like it.
    “I loved the nights my grandmother would come over. For one, it meant my parents weren’t there and neither were their scheming friends. We would spend hours playing board games, or we would sit on the couch and read. Grams wasn’t big on watching television, so rarely did we do that. Her reasoning was that I had enough TV time as it was because that’s how my parents allowed me to stay preoccupied. I don’t know what changed, or why my grandmother made the suggestion that I come live with her, but when she did, I think my parents were grateful. They were never home anyway. Starting in the first grade, I had walked home from school by myself, sometimes with a friend from the neighboring complex. Always coming home to an empty house.”
    “Did your parents work?”
    “My dad was a mechanic, but he never seemed to hold a job down well. My mother would hop from job to job on purpose, doing whatever suited her at the moment. I know she’d worked as a receptionist once but hated answering phones; she tried working with a maid service, but she didn’t even keep our house clean. So it was no wonder that neither of those worked out.
    “Anyway, I moved in with my grandparents and I rarely saw my mom and dad. My grandfather managed a grocery store and my grandmother was a first-grade teacher. We lived in the same old house they’d moved to when they left here. It was a beautiful place, similar to this one in many ways.”
    “Why’d they leave Coyote Ridge?” he asked.
    “From what my grandmother told me, my dad was a hellion. And not just the mischievous sort. He was in trouble with the law by the time he was in junior high. It was around that time that they moved back to the area where my grandfather had grown up.”
    “Is that why you bought this house? Because it reminded you of your grandparents?”
    “I guess. This house, just like the one my grandparents owned, has so many memories. Unfortunately, when my grandfather passed away and my grandmother’s mind started to rapidly deteriorate, my parents wiped them out. Sold the house, the cars, anything of value. They took it all and left my grandmother with nothin’.”
    “You said she’s in a nursin’ home?” Brendon questioned, peering over his shoulder at her.
    “She is. Back in Abilene.”
    “West Texas Princess,” Brendon muttered.
    Cheyenne chuckled. “Not quite so fitting now that you know the real story, huh?” She had no idea why the media had taken to calling her that, but it was a name that stuck. If people only knew that she’d been as far from living a fairy tale as one could possibly be, she sometimes wondered how they’d look at her.
    Brendon didn’t say anything, so Cheyenne continued.
    “That’s why I want to get this done,” she said, motioning toward the house. “I need to bring Grams here with me so I can take care of her.”
    “Where’re your parents now?”
    “No idea. I haven’t talked to them for almost a year.”
    Brendon’s head snapped around, his eyes studying her momentarily.
    “They’re what you could consider . . . freeloaders. My mom has always thought that people owed her. It also didn’t help that she married the world’s most selfish man. My father has always taken money from my grandparents, and he didn’t have any qualms about taking it without