Promise Me This: a friends to lovers, slow burn romance (Wilder Family Book 3)

Chapter 28

Even if I wanted to be home the whole day, pretending I wasn’t going out of my fucking skin before Harlow went out for dinner, I wouldn’t have been able to. Apparently, all my siblings within a two-hour radius chose that particular day to need something.

Cameron was with Ivy in Seattle for the week, visiting her dad and holding some meetings with potential suppliers, so I was now the brother who got the calls.

Poppy’s car wouldn’t start while she was at the gym in Redmond, so I drove out there to meet her. Some meathead was trying to give her a jump, but when I showed up, scowl on my face and a tire iron in my hand, he wisely beat it.

“Good Lord, Ian,” she mumbled. “He was trying to help.”

“Was he?” I mumbled. “He’s not your type anyway.”

Her hands flopped helplessly in the air. “Everyone in this family is so very sure about my lack of a love life, aren’t they?”

Through the windshield, I stared her down, turning the key to hear the sound the car was making. Just a click. Nothing.

“The fact that he’s not Jax is not what makes him not your type,” I said meaningfully. Poppy rolled her eyes.

“Jax can kiss my ass,” she said hotly. “I’ve gone on three first dates this month, and all of them can carry on an intelligent conversation. It’s great.”

“That guy wouldn’t have been able to.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And how do you know that?”

I slid out of the seat and joined her by the raised hood. “Any idiot with two brain cells to rub together would know it’s your starter, not your battery, and I know none of my sisters would go for someone stupid.”

“I did tell him that,” she pointed out. “But the tire iron was completely unnecessary.”

“Yeah, but it was fun to see his face do that weird splotchy thing, wasn’t it?”

She grinned. “Maybe a little.”

After a little finagling under the hood, we got her car started, and I followed her to the auto repair shop in Sisters, where we’d always taken our cars.

Poppy slid into the passenger seat, a thoughtful expression on her face when she caught me glancing at my watch.

I sighed. “What?”

“Nothing.” She hooked her seat belt and gestured forward, in the general direction of the road. “Got plans you’re worried about missing?” she asked lightly.

“No,” I ground out.

“Hmmm.”

Was my eye twitching? “Poppy, if you’ve got something to say, say it.”

“Oh no. That’s not my role within this family.” She patted my arm. “I’m not the get in your face sister.”

Hooking my wrist on the top of the steering wheel, I turned toward her. “Get in my face about what?”

The annoying thing about all of my siblings was that they weren’t bothered in the slightest when my voice did that snappish, growling thing that I’d never been able to hide when I felt snappish and growling inside my brain.

With an unaffected smile on her face, Poppy sat back in the seat and sighed like she was at the fucking beach, soaking up the sun. “Ian, my role in this family is to be the pleasant, listening ear. The support squad. The encourager. Consequently, this is why I’m also everyone’s favorite.” At my disbelieving snort, she merely grinned and kept going. “Even if you try to pull scary Ian with me, you can’t force me to be the bad guy in this. Because the second someone says something you aren’t ready to hear, you’ll shut down. So I’m not going to be the one who’ll smack you in the face with whatever you’re running from.”

I’m not running from anything.

Why couldn’t I say the words? They remained stuck in the base of my throat, completely unwilling to come gasping to the surface. Something held them down—self-preservation, or the inability to lie out loud, I wasn’t sure. Poppy didn’t know about the kiss, but she knew something. And fuck was I not going to ask. It was all I could do to just stare at her.

“For the not getting in my face sister, you do a pretty good impression of one,” I said tersely.

“It’s a gift.” She closed her eyes and sighed. “You taking me home, or what?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Yeah. I am.”

Once Poppy was delivered back to the house, my phone buzzed with a call from Greer.

“Don’t tell me you’ve got a dead car too,” I said by way of answering.

“Nope. But I just got a call from our lake house client. Would you be willing to go out there and talk to her and her husband? They’ve got a few questions about where we’re putting electrical in the kitchen. I think they want to change some things around now that everything is marked up. Beckett has an away game this weekend, and I have tickets to take Olive to a play in Portland.”

“Yeah, sure.” I rubbed the back of my neck. The lake house was a solid hour away, but someone needed to do it.

She made a pleased noise. “How accommodating you are. I’m so used to Cameron giving me shit about everything I ask him to do. This is downright pleasant.”

I rolled my eyes. “Didn’t really feel like sitting home today anyway, so I don’t mind.”

There was a telling, loaded silence, and I grimaced.

Why the fuck did I go and say that? If there was a sister who’d get in my face, then she was on the other end of this fucking phone call.

“Trouble in paradise?” she asked lightly.

“No trouble. No paradise. Just … don’t mind being busy is all.”

“Because Poppy might have mentioned something about a hot coach and a dinner date…”

“Dinner meeting,” I snapped. My eye twitched a little. “He’s got a big head and the IQ of a rock.”

“Ahh. I can see the appeal, then. Tell Harlow good luck when you see her.” She paused. “It’s so hard to find smart, intelligent men, and he must be both if you’re reacting this way.”

“Fuck off, Greer,” I said through gritted teeth.

She laughed in sheer delight. “Oh, what I’d give to be a fly on the wall at the Wilder-Keaton household tonight.”

“Poppy was right,” I muttered under my breath.

Of course, she heard me. Hearing like a fucking bloodhound. “About what?”

I wrenched the steering wheel in the opposite direction of my own driveway, heading out toward the jobsite. “She said she’s not the get in your face sister. I think we both know who’s got that job locked down. You do it obnoxiously well.”

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t mean it as a compliment, Greer.”

See? The growling and the snapping was back because it felt like a volcano was about to erupt out of my fucking skull. I wasn’t sure how much I could handle before all the heat and anger and frustration—most of it aimed at myself—needed an outlet.

“What was Poppy not getting in your face about?” she asked.

“I have to go.”

Greer ignored me because of course she ignored me. “The hill of denial that you’ve chosen to chain yourself to when it comes to your feelings about Harlow? Am I getting warmer?”

A vein in my forehead felt perilously close to bursting. “I hope our family was more supportive with you when you married a complete stranger to pull off some haywire plan.”

She made a considering noise. “It isn’t apples to apples, grumpy pants. Cameron did his very best annoying big brother sermon when he suspected what I was up to, but the difference between you and me is I knew I wanted my husband from the start, and he knew it, too. I gotta say, his self-control is legendary, and I was ready to crawl out of my skin before he admitted it.”

“Fucking hell, do I not want to know this.”

“Maybe Harlow and I have that in common,” she said thoughtfully. “I should text her.”

“Greer,” I snapped. “Don’t even think about it.”

Miraculously, Greer’s voice softened. “I won’t. Poorly timed joke, I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” I said roughly.

She exhaled quietly. “Ian, Poppy and I want the best for you, you know that, right? We want you to be happy. That’s all. I won’t say anything else, I promise.”

I rolled my neck and felt something pop. “It’s fine. I just … need to figure this out on my own, all right?”

“I love you, brother,” she said in a singsong voice.

I violently punched the disconnect button and tossed my phone into the passenger seat with a disgusted scoff. The hour-long drive and last-minute meeting ended as a blessing in disguise because the closer the clock got toward the dinner hour, the more I hoped the house would be empty when I got home.

The meeting at the house went well, and I managed to keep on my friendliest face while we walked through every inch of the kitchen and talked about under-cabinet lighting and dozens of other details.

Back in the truck after they’d left, I typed up our notes on the iPad in my work truck and emailed them to Greer and Cameron. I sank my head back on the seat behind me and fought the helpless churning in my gut. I couldn’t sit there forever, as much as I may have wanted to, so I put the truck in reverse and backed out of my parking spot.

When I pulled up to the house about an hour later, the spill of warm light coming from the windows seemed even more pronounced than usual, as did the sight of Harlow’s car.

She hadn’t left yet. A thick knot of apprehension crawled under my skin.

It was quiet when I opened the door and sat on the bench to take off my work boots and hang my coat on the hooks on the wall. A sound came from the hallway toward my bedroom, and unable to stop myself, I walked toward it.

“Sage, can you help me with something?” she called. “I can’t reach this clasp, and it’s stuck.”

There wasn’t an easy label for why I stayed quiet and walked down the hallway into my bedroom. It could have been any number of things, but even I had to admit that I simply wanted to see her there in my space. The timing of all this felt sinister, like I couldn’t claw us out of the purgatory we’d found ourselves in.

Harlow was in my bathroom, carefully wrapping the cord of the blow dryer around the handle. She hadn’t seen me yet, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to study her. She wasn’t very dressed up—wearing dark jeans and some low-heeled black boots—but to me, she was absolutely stunning.

A deep green sweater that fell off one shoulder made her skin look even creamier than normal, and her hair was down along her back in a sleek curtain. Her lashes looked fuller and darker, even if her makeup was fairly light.

Her fingers fidgeted with a gold necklace, which looked to be caught in her hair, and when she leaned forward to study it in the mirror, she finally noticed me leaning against the doorframe.

Our eyes met and held in the reflection, and my pulse skyrocketed from that glance.

Tension slid into the room, threatening to crush my bones and lacerate my heart—simply because we looked at each other. It was so thick I could hardly breathe through it, reminding me immediately of the moment I walked out on that front porch on her birthday and knew that things were about to irrevocably change.

“Need help?” I asked, my voice low and a little ragged.

Harlow sucked in a quiet breath and then nodded. “My blow dryer died,” she said quietly. “Hope it’s okay I borrowed yours.”

It didn’t really require a response, so I didn’t give one, stepping up behind her. Slowly, I dragged in a deep lungful of whatever lotion or perfume or shampoo I was smelling, and I fought to keep my eyes open.

“Thought you were Sage.” She dropped her hands from the necklace and straightened, tilting her neck to the side.

An offering that was almost impossible to resist.

“I didn’t see her when I came in.”

Harlow swallowed, her cheeks flushed a pretty pink. “She must be upstairs packing. My dad’s running a little late picking her up.”

With careful hands, I brushed all that hair off the graceful line of her neck until the strands caught in the inconceivably thin chain revealed themselves. The pads of my fingers dragged over the nape of her neck, and while I glanced up to watch her in the mirror, her eyes closed in a soft, fluttering motion.

What would she do if I leaned forward and touched my lips to that skin just above the gold? If it couldn’t be blamed on a birthday kiss or some fantasy she’d spun years and years earlier. What would she do if I slid my hands over her hips, pressing my chest flush with her back, just to see how we fit together this way?

The thoughts looping around in my brain had my muscles tight, and my big, oversized hands threatened to snap that chain, so I carefully undid the clasp on the necklace and held it firm in one hand, using the other to sweep aside the stray hairs caught in the tiny closure. When they were free, Harlow shivered, and it had my eyes closing in a brief pinch.

The necklace was easier to re-clasp now, and then I gathered the thick mass of her dark hair in my hands and gently draped it back into place, allowing one moment when my fingers coasted through the ends.

My mouth was bone-dry when I stepped back, and Harlow swayed a little where she stood, her hand coming forward onto the counter to steady herself. Her eyes opened slowly, once again meeting mine.

“You look beautiful,” I told her.

Her chest rose and fell on a deep breath, but she didn’t say anything. It would be so easy to let that last fraying shred of my sanity snap, take what I wanted, and damn the consequences, but I’d done that once, and all it caused in its wake was uncertainty and that wasn’t something we needed any more of.

“What time do you have to leave?” I asked.

Her eyelashes fluttered on a few rapid blinks. “I … soon,” she said. “Now, I guess. My dad’s not here yet, though.”

“I can stay with Sage.” I tucked my hands into the pockets of my work cargos. “I don’t have any plans tonight.”

“Thank you,” she said, her eyes steady on mine in the mirror.

Even though there was only a small space between us, Harlow turned, looking up into my face, and I tried to pretend I didn’t know what I was seeing there.

Because her confusion was more than I could bear. Her proximity was, too. My hands itched to touch her, an impulse I wasn’t sure I’d ever live without again. And swimming deep underneath everything I didn’t want to face, I could feel my own fears lurking. They swamped my more primitive urges before they had a chance to break the surface.

“You promise you’ll be home when I get back?” she asked.

We both knew I’d never promise her anything if I couldn’t do it. That once I did, I’d tear myself apart to keep my word to her.

“I promise.”

God, the way this woman looked at me. It felt like someone digging straight into my fucking soul. I wanted to know what she saw. What she’d always seen, even if I couldn’t. Or what I refused to see.

I took another step back. “Have a good time,” I told her.

Her eyes searched mine, deep and questioning. Then she gave a slight shake to her head, her chin rising an inch in the air. Determination replaced that confusion. “I’ll talk to you when I get home.”

She swept past me, leaving the lingering scent of something clean and sweet. Unable to stop myself, I filled my lungs with it again after she’d left the room. I didn’t move until I heard the front door open and then close on a quiet click.

Her car started, then everything faded into silence as she drove away.

“Fuck,” I whispered.

I set my hands on the counter and hung my head.

“Ian?”

At the sound of Sage’s voice, I pulled in a deep breath and called out, “Be right out. Just need to change a second.”

In the closet, I grabbed a clean shirt, tugging off the shirt I’d worked in all day and swapping it out for the clean one. As I came down the hallway, I saw Sage sitting out on the top step of the front porch.

I was still feeling so raw from the entire day. The week, really. But Sage didn’t need to know that, and I made sure I was firmly in control of the pulsing tangle under my ribs before I walked out the front door to join her.

“Where were you all day?” she asked.

“Helping my sisters with stuff,” I told her, easing myself down onto the step. “Your grandpa picking you up soon?”

She smiled. “He’s gonna take us to the bakery downtown for donuts.”

I nodded. “Solid plan.”

She stayed quiet, a slight frown on her face as she stared out into the yard, and I knew her well enough now to realize she was thinking something. For the most part, when I looked at her, all I could see was Harlow. But at moments like this, there was an angle to her mouth, a look in her eyes, and I could see glimpses of some person I’d never know, who was the catalyst to the biggest change in Harlow’s life when we were apart.

“Want to talk about it?” I asked.

After a moment, she said, “My mom is going out to dinner with Coach Collins.” She tapped her shoes on the porch. “Well, it’s a dinner meeting, she said. Does that mean it’s not the same as a date?”

“Fuck if I know.” She cut me a look, and I grimaced. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

“She said it wasn’t a date, but…” Sage’s brow furrowed. “He likes her. I can tell. And I think they’re about the same age. I really want her to talk to him about a girls’ team, but then I kept thinking … what if it turns into a date?”

Fuck, what did it say that a really smart ten-year-old and me were both worrying about the same thing? My eyes pinched shut for a moment. This wasn’t about me. No one but Harlow ever came to me to talk things out. Probably because I had no tact and gave shitty advice, but if there was ever a time for me to get it right, it was with this kid.

My fingers drummed rapidly against the side of my thigh. “How do you feel about that? That she’s going out to dinner with your coach?”

Sage didn’t answer right away. “She asked me that too. Said she’d cancel if I was uncomfortable with it.” Then she shrugged. “He’s nice. Funny at practice.”

Yeah, I was sure the guy was a fucking saint who rescued kittens and taught the youth of America. I’m sure they’d erect a statue of him downtown before long. I rolled my lips between my teeth until the urge to punch him passed.

I watched her out of the corner of my eye. “Something’s bothering you, though.”

To my utter horror, Sage started sniffling, her face crumpling. She dashed a clenched fist against her cheek. “No, it’s not.”

“Oh, kid,” I muttered, then I settled my arm around her shoulders.

She leaned into me immediately. This was even worse than when I brought her to school. Tears held a distinctly different weight, and I had no clue what to do. I wasn’t sure of the right way to navigate this thing with her.

Hell, I wasn’t even sure how to navigate it for myself. So I closed my eyes, and I thought about what my dad would do. The hundreds and hundreds of times he’d had to sit with one or more kid who was crying, whether it was from fights or school or stress. It was so easy to remember how he made us all feel when things seemed too big and scary for us to handle.

Maybe that was what made a good parent. He never told us we were stupid for feeling the things we did and never pressed us to talk before we were ready. But he was there, and we trusted it.

“If you’re not ready to talk about it yet,” I started quietly, “that’s okay. But if something is eating up your insides, Sage, it’s not good to leave it there. Not forever.” I tightened my arm. “And if it feels easier to talk to me about it than your mom, I’ll listen whenever you’re ready.”

Sage sniffed up her tears and let out a shaky breath. “It only bothers me for one reason,” she whispered, then she glanced up at me, those big brown eyes still full of tears, and I knew I’d probably commit homicide if this little person asked me to.

My voice sounded like I’d chewed glass when I was finally able to speak.

“What’s the reason?”

Her bottom lip trembled. “Does it mean we’d lose you if she starts dating him? Or … or she marries him?”

A big, fat tear slid down her cheek again, and my whole chest caved in, a devastating avalanche of feelings. Carefully, I turned so I could face her. I cupped her shoulders gently. “I need you to listen to me, okay?”

She nodded.

I hadn’t made many vows in my life, the kind that I’d use to define the man I wanted to be. A long time ago, I’d made one to her mother, and I knew that whatever I said now, it mattered a great deal to Sage, and to me. After a deep breath, I made sure that I could hold up everything I said next.

“You won’t ever lose me, Sage. I will always be your friend, I will always be there for you and your mom, however you need me.” I swallowed hard, the weight of the words pressing tight to my throat. “I don’t know if this guy will be anything important in your mom’s life… but if he is…” I paused because that slight stumble in my words had her stilling, watching me so much more carefully than any almost-eleven-year-old had a right to. “Then he’ll be fine with me still being you and your mom’s friend. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I promise,” I said fiercely.

Sage sniffled again, wiping under her nose with the sleeve of her sweatshirt. “It doesn’t bother you either, then?”

A thousand answers crowded the back of my mouth, and I wrenched them down, choosing these words with more care than I’d ever managed in my entire life.

“I want your mom to be happy,” I said. “I’ll always want that for her, and having the two of you in my life is more important than anything else.”

The way she stared up into my face had me feeling a kind of bone-tingling vulnerability that I’d never experienced before because this little kid just made me distill all my fears into this single conversation and face it head-on.

Sage wiped at the tears on her cheek and let out a shaky breath. “You’re really good at that,” she whispered. “Making me feel better.”

I’d never been accused of that before the Keaton women blasted their way into my life.

The headlights of her grandpa’s truck cut down the driveway, and Sage and I stood at the same time. With a shy smile, she hooked her backpack over her shoulder. After a moment of indecision played over her face, Sage flung herself forward, wrapping her arms around my waist in a tight hug. With a hollowed-out chest and the distinct feeling that she was anchored under my ribs much in the same way as her mother, I wrapped my arms around her to return it. That was when she buried her face into my chest and whispered, “You’ll be a really great dad someday, Ian.”

It was like she punched a hole straight through flesh and bone, and I stood in stunned silence as she waved and ran off.

Standing in the silence, staring out into the trees, I felt a desperate boiling under the surface, and I raked my fingers into my hair and clutched the back of my head. Everything was pressed too hard on the inside of my skin, and emotions were ready to explode if there wasn’t an outlet.

Why was this so fucking hard for me?

Why did the thought of stepping into this space with them terrify me to the point that my blood ran cold and my heartbeat echoed through to the tips of my fingers and down to my toes?

I didn’t stop to think, didn’t even try to question why I was doing what I was doing before I simply wrenched the door of the house open to snatch my keys off the table. I was in my truck before I could stop myself.