Peace of Work

By Rachel Walter

We’re all stupid in love.

Brand Ehlert drunkenly stumbles into Peace, Montana in the middle of the night. The shame of failure burns like a wildfire hot on his heels. It doesn’t take him long to realize that running from the ruins of his old life was the best decision he’s ever made. There’s this girl, and he can’t get enough of her. Before he knows it, the beautiful artist has him wrapped around her little finger. With only the shirt on his back and dumb luck, special moments come easy for them. But the lure of the bottle is strong. His personal demons ignite the embers of his past. Soon he fears he’s destroyed the only thing that’s ever truly mattered to him.
Will Brand’s destructive history repeat itself, or is he capable of something more?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Rachel Walter
• Release date: Aug 10, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463178836

Rachel Walter

Rachel Walter is a wife and mother first and a coffee-addicted, chuck-wearing, hockey-watching, snark-spewing author second. She primarily writes Young Adult, but enjoys challenging herself in other genres, like Adult Contemporary. In 2012, Rachel began writing her first novel, True Connection, which she published in 2013. True Connection was re-released in 2014 as part of a boxed set, Pandora, which landed on USA Today’s Best Seller list. When she’s not writing or making images for her Instagram feature, #authorslog, she can be found doing almost anything in south central Pennsylvania, where she lives, to avoid washing dishes.

Book preview

Brand Ehlert wiped the sweat from his brow and took another aching step. Everything that wasn’t numb from the winter air hurt.

He squinted against the harsh, white headlights of yet another passing vehicle. This time when they passed, cold roadside slush sprayed his left leg and hand.

My life is great, he sang at the top of his lungs and stumbled. This shit stain is movin’ up in the world.

His coat pocket buzzed and he lurched to a stop. Swaying, he pulled his phone out. He touched the screen, nothing happened. His fingers were too cold.

Forget you, too! He chucked his phone into the air. When he heard the distinct sound of the screen shatter on the pavement, he continued his journey. He didn’t know where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t go home.

He didn’t have one anymore.

From behind him, headlights haloed his body and illuminated a wooden sign. Welcome to Peace, Montana, it read.

Peace? Who needs it? He snorted to himself.

The car slowed to a stop beside him.

You’re lucky I found your stupid ass. Get in.

Brand recognized the voice and held out his middle finger in the direction of his ex-best friend, Luke Smrcka.

Leave, Luke. I’m trying to find some peace! As if it were an inside joke with absolutely no one, he smiled.

Brand counted the seconds of silence between the sound of Luke’s car door opening and the two thunderous steps before he landed in the snow bank.

Get off! He grunted out a curse and tried to pry his arms away from Luke’s vice grip. The more they struggled, the harder a jagged clump of icy snow dug into Brand’s side.

You’re comin’ with me. Luke pulled Brand to stand.

Like hell, Brand seethed. He knew the only way to get Luke to let him go was to hurt him. He bent his knee and thwarted his iced over sneaker into Luke’s groin. Upon impact, Luke released Brand. With a dark laugh, Brand stepped away from Luke planning to continue his journey.

Without warning, he was tugged around to face Luke. The force of a linebacker and a freight train seemed to have collided directly on his face and he fell back into the snow mound again. Cold and numb, he couldn’t be sure, but he thought he heard a crack when Luke’s fist smashed into his face.

Mind over matter, he thought to himself, I don’t mind, so it don’t matter.

Brand relaxed and stopped fighting back. He knew that was the only way to get the bear of a man to turn his back. In a size comparison, Luke would win best in show every time. Brand was short, standing only five foot four inches with the smaller frame of a teenage boy. He used to want plastic surgery to change the appearance of his baby face, but once his beard and mustache grew in at age seventeen, he’d given up that dream. Now that he was twenty-four and homeless, getting plastic surgery was out of the question.

Luke muttered something about a relative. Brand couldn’t be sure what he was saying, but when he cracked an eye open he could see Luke had turned away. It wasn’t enough, so he remained stiff in the snow. If he were to be honest with himself, he couldn’t remember what it felt like to feel his backside or even his feet.

Brand’s stomach churned and his throat tightened. He wanted to cough but he knew doing so would alert Luke that he was awake. He continued playing possum and watched Luke from cracked eyelids.

Luke ran his fingers through his hair and then scratched the back of his head. He nodded to himself, turned around, and walked back to his car.

Brand had to time it just right. He planned to tackle him and then steal his car. He could taste the victory over his ex-best friend. The first real win since they graduated high school. He wouldn’t feel bad for it at all. Not after the bullshit Luke had brought down on his head every other day.

He stood and the world spun around him. He ran in the direction he thought Luke was and let out a guttural battle cry. Excitement rushed through him, followed closely by the night’s firewater. When his body met the solid force of his friend, his stomach unleashed the whirling tornado that he’d been ignoring.

You stupid son of a-, Luke yelled between gags.

Brand flailed his arm in an attempt to punch Luke before warmth and pitch black darkness clothed him and swaddled him like a newborn babe.

The taste of spent alcohol lingered in Brand’s mouth. He rubbed the dust from his eyes and moaned as he rolled over.

Good morning, Sunshine. His best friend clipped, the sound bounced off every nerve ending in his brain.

Shh, he begged. The stirring of a not so distant memory started to form. Shit.

You certainly are one. Get up. Luke’s volume seemed to be increasing, and Brand’s brain felt like it was trying to crawl out of his ears. You’re gonna clean my damn car today. My brand new car, mind you. A metal on metal slam echoed through the small space and enunciated Luke’s harsh tone.

Give me a beer and I’ll sober right up, he muttered.

Luke responded by whipping something in Brand’s direction. He jerked to dodge it and heard something solid and metal crash against the wall behind him. Brand grabbed his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. All he wanted was silence and sleep.

When you’re done with my car, you better believe you will be cleaning the piss and blood you left on the rug. You also need to apologize to my half sister for being a bastard at four o’clock in the damned morning. And that’s not even touching the damage back home.

A few words struck him as odd. Back home, that meant they weren’t at Luke’s. Brand has known Luke since they were six years old, and yet, he had never known Luke had a half sister.

Where are we? Brand muttered, half registering the laundry list of items he didn’t want to deal with yet.

The acrid yet sweet scent of coffee churned whatever was left in his stomach. He jumped to his feet, swayed on unsteady legs, and wildly sought out a place to vomit. He had no idea where he was but everything was too bright. A garbage can to his left looked inviting and not seeing any other option, he gunned for it.

Peace, Montana. The bathroom is through the door behind you. We’re at my half sister’s place in her garage apartment.

Brand wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and his breath bounced back into his face. He moaned again and willed his insides to settle.

There’s a store down the road a few miles. You might want to think about walking soon.

You’re serious?

About as serious as placing bets with the pee-brains at Vinny’s, idiot. I stayed up and babysat your stupid drunk ass all night to make sure you woke the hell up. You’re cleanin’ up your messes today. Luke slammed something else, and Brand’s brain and stomach revolted again. I’ve never known a stupider human being than you. You’ve messed up so much crap over drinking and gambling. Alcohol ain’t gonna hold your hand when you need to make a tough decision and sure as shit ain’t gonna cuddle-bone ya on Valentine’s Day.

Shut up, Luke. I’m fine.

You’ve got a huge problem.

I said I’m fine! Brand’s anger returned tenfold and he stood. Chest heaving, he pounded his fist against the wall. I don’t need sex and I don’t need shit from you on what to do with my own damn life.

I don’t give a flyin’— He turned away and swore before turning back to Brand. Clean up your messes and then do whatever the hell you want. Fix things with Pops or don’t. No sweat off my back. Just sayin’, you’re throwing away your life and ruining chances for happiness before they even start. Who the hell wants to be with an assbag that blows his paycheck every time he drinks, and sells his dad’s car-,

Brand had heard enough. With every ounce of energy he had left, he threw his fist at Luke’s shit-talking mouth. Luke sidestepped out of the way, and Brand staggered to catch his balance.

Dude, you did not just take a swing at me.

Nope, he responded dismissively. I was just sizing your face for curtains. Where’s this store that I’m supposed to be going to?

Head North, you’ll find it, Luke said and turned away from Brand.

Brand hated the turmoil between them, but Luke had no business telling him what he should or shouldn’t do. About three years ago, Luke came to