Aloha Lovely readers,
Thank you so much for your patience as I contemplate next steps for this story. To be honest, deciding how to move forward has been a struggle for me. But I've finally made a decision and I'm ready to stick to it.
You see, the novella I wrote for Rhett and Brynlee wasn't planned. It was a story that developed in my mind as I wrote Olivia's book, which is why I didn't write a longer book for them. I've had this entire series planned for a while and they just weren't in it. That was a lack of foresight on my part, I suppose.
The problem is, as I wrote His Shattered Mate, I fell in love with Rhett and Brynlee and just wasn't ready to let them go completely. I wasn't sure how at the time, but I knew I needed to circle back to them at some point. While I loved their story, I was also painfully aware that while Rhett's love allowed Brynlee to heal and grow into the strong woman she became, Rhett was always unapologetically himself. He didn't really have to compromise much. Brynlee needed him and he needed to be needed. A match made in heaven. Well now, it's his turn to step outside his comfort zone.
My dilemma was, do I alter my plans for the series and give them their own book, or keep it to another novella. After much internal debate and arguing with myself, I've decided on the latter. There is one more book in this series before I move on to other projects and adding another entire book just isn't in the cards right now. Nor am I certain the story I want to tell warrants a full-length novel.
Bearing all that in mind, I've decided to continue Rhett and Brynlee's story here in the form of a novella, which will start serializing tomorrow. For those of you still here and waiting patiently, thank you so much! Words can never express how grateful I am for each and every one of you!
See you back here tomorrow!
Cara
Rhett The contractions start at three in the morning on a Tuesday in late spring, waking both of us from the deep sleep that's become possible since Brynlee stopped having nightmares completely."Rhett," she says calmly, her hand finding mine in the darkness. "I think it's time."It's time. The words I've been waiting to hear for weeks, the beginning of the moment when our son officially joins the family that's been preparing for his arrival."How far apart?" I ask, immediately shifting into the practical mode that's served us well through every crisis we've faced."About six minutes. They've been consistent for an hour."For an hour? She's been timing contractions while I slept, handling the early stages of labor with the quiet competence that's marked her complete recovery. All while shutting down the bond so her pain wouldn’t wake me. "Should we wake Maya?" I ask, checking the time and calculating how long we have before we need to leave for the hospital."Not yet. Let her sleep
Brynlee When we finally make it downstairs, Maya greets us with the kind of excited energy that suggests she has important announcements to make."I finished the baby welcome garden!" she declares, gesturing toward the backyard with obvious pride. "Come see! Come see!"Baby welcome garden? Her latest project, apparently designed to provide an appropriate outdoor greeting for her brother's eventual arrival. Only from the minds of children. Outside, Maya has created what can only be described as a masterpiece of five-year-old landscape design. The vegetable beds we planted months ago are now surrounded by colorful flowers, decorative stones arranged in patterns that probably mean something to her organizational mind, and a small area clearly designated for future baby activities."This section is for when baby brother can sit up," she explains with professional seriousness, pointing to a soft grass area surrounded by aromatic herbs. "And this section is for when he can crawl. And this
Brynlee I wake up to sunlight streaming through our bedroom windows and Rhett's hand resting protectively on my rounded belly, and for the first time in months, I don't spend a single second questioning whether any of it is real.Real, I think with deep satisfaction, feeling our son move under his father's touch. All of this is absolutely, undeniably real and I’ve never been happier.With my pregnancy nearly full-term, I've finally stopped testing reality and started fully living in it. The dissociative episodes that plagued my early recovery have faded to occasional shadows, and the hypervigilance that once made every experience feel suspect has been replaced by genuine trust in my own perceptions.Dr. Gorian lost, I remind myself with fierce satisfaction. Twenty-three years in federal prison, the Enhanced Individual Research Act struck down by Congress, and every facility in his network shut down permanently.The news came through three weeks ago, bringing closure I hadn't realized
RhettThe drive home from Denver feels endless, but the moment I pull into our driveway, I can sense Brynlee's presence through the mate bond—not the fractured, uncertain connection that marked her early recovery, but genuine warmth and anticipation.She's been waiting for me, I realize. Worried about how the testimony went, hoping for good news.I find her in the kitchen with Maya, both of them working on what looks like celebration preparations. Homemade cookies cooling on racks, Maya's artwork displayed like party decorations, the kind of scene that speaks to hope rather than mere survival."How did it go?" Brynlee asks immediately, studying my face for clues about the trial's outcome."Good, I think. The jury seemed engaged, and Santos is confident we made our point about the psychological torture."Though whether that translates to conviction remains to be seen."The attorney said Dr. Gorian might face twenty years if convicted on all counts," I continue. "And the Enhanced Indivi
RhettThe federal courthouse in Denver is surrounded by media trucks and protesters carrying signs that read everything from "Justice for Enhanced Individuals" to "Government Accountability Now." Dr. Gorian's trial has become a lightning rod for public debate about the Enhanced Individual Research Act, and today is the day I testify about what they did to my pregnant mate.The thought still sends rage through me so intense that Kian paces restlessly beneath my skin, demanding violence against everyone who participated in Brynlee's torture."Remember," Harper says as we approach the courthouse steps, "stick to facts, stay calm, and let your testimony speak for itself. The jury needs to see the human cost of this program, not just the legal violations. And they certainly don’t need a reason to think our kind deserve to be locked away."Right. I can do that. Brynlee's fractured ability to trust reality, her constant need to verify that our life is genuine, the weeks of careful healing re
BrynleeAfter the appointment, grocery shopping feels almost normal. Rhett pushes the cart while I navigate our usual list, both of us automatically coordinating around each other's movements in ways that speak to years of shared domestic routine.Muscle memory, I think, watching how naturally we fall into familiar patterns. Our bodies remember how to be together even when my mind questions everything."Rhett," I say suddenly, stopping in the middle of the cereal aisle. "Can I touch you?"The request catches him off guard, and I see him struggling not to read too much into it while trying to respect whatever boundaries I need."Of course," he says carefully. "However you want, whenever you want."However you want, whenever you want. No pressure, no expectations, just permission to reconnect physically at whatever pace feels safe.I reach out and place my hand flat against his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through his shirt. Real pulse, real warmth, real presence th