Chapter 2
“Dude, what the fuck’s wrong with your eye? Why do you keep winking at me?”
I swipe at my eye, rubbing tears away. “I’m not fucking winking at you, Roman. I just scratched it or something.”
I don’t think I could explain what really happened to my eye if I tried.
Fucking bag of rice. Who throws rice anyway?
Apparently, hot blondes who throw caution to the wind regarding their safety—that’s who. I still can’t believe she was just out there, walking alone, with no phone. I don’t know what would’ve happened if I hadn’t shown up, but my imagination is doing a pretty good job of filling in the blanks.
It’s not like our small town isn’t safe. Hell, I think my family and I know everyone who lives here on a first-name basis, but there’s something eerie about those woods.
It’s not that I actually believe in the infamous Phantom our small town’s known for—no one in their right mind believes something like that—but anything could be out there. She was lucky she didn’t stumble upon a pack of wolves or trip and bust her head open on a rock. The forest is a dangerous place, and call me paranoid, but I don’t fuck with things I can’t see.
Not anymore.
A full-body shiver runs up my spine, and I shake my head to rid the thoughts.
The important thing is, she’s safe, and she hopefully learned her lesson to not be so negligent in the future.
I think it’s best to suppress that memory as deep as I can get it. I don’t have time for the rabbit hole that would take me down. No, I’m too busy working on more important things, like healing our planet and creating a safe work environment for our company’s one thousand-plus staff members. I’ve devoted everything to this company; for better or worse, it’s my purpose for living, and I can’t let any distractions prevent me from that, no matter how beautiful they might be.
Ivy Lane.
I’ve had to stop myself from looking her up about ten times already this morning, not that I think I’ll find anything. Maybe a minor criminal record. She seems like the kind of woman who’s not afraid of breaking a rule or two, hence her fearless walk through Phantom’s Reach last night.
Worry pinches in my chest, which only annoys me more. It’s ridiculous to be worried about a stranger, especially one who’s clearly not concerned about her own safety.
I’ve known the woman for what, two hours? And I spent most of that time seething with irritation from her smart mouth and careless attitude. In another life, I would have taken great joy in showing her a few manners … but that’s not who I am anymore. Besides, she’s got to be at least a decade younger than me, which could never work.
What am I thinking? This whole fantasy is ridiculous. Clearly, I’m more sleep-deprived than I thought. I should be paying attention while Carl talks about import taxes and whatever else he’s been going on about for the last ten minutes.
It’s just annoying how comfortable she seemed, sitting there with me, asking me questions and talking like I wasn’t a complete stranger. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so … authentically themself … straight out of the gate. It’s fascinating and infuriating, all at the same time.
I bite my cheek, suddenly itching to get out of this stiff office chair and pace … or run. Hell, I just need to exert some of this energy before I snap or say something I don’t mean to someone who doesn’t deserve it.
I take a cautious sip of my steaming hot coffee, willing the caffeine to work a miracle and somehow pull me out of this foul mood.
I’ve never been much of a morning person, but between the sleep deprivation from working late over the last three months and last night’s escapades, I’m barely hanging on by a thread.
Carl finishes his presentation, and my brother, Roman, takes the floor.
It’s our quarterly meeting, so I should really be paying more attention, but it’s not like they’re saying anything I don’t already know. I make it my mission to know everything that goes on even if it means I work holidays and weekends.
Roman clicks open his first slide, and a picture of our town square comes into view, that damn Phantom statue front and center.
Goddamn it. Not this again.
I have to force myself not to sag in my seat like a toddler because of all the shit I’ve got on my plate; the fucking Phantom Festival is the last thing I need to be worrying about.
We’re literally trying to save the planet with our sustainable, eco-friendly product line. Call me crazy, but I feel like our time is best spent doing our actual jobs. No one likes when I point that out though.
It’s ridiculous and my least favorite thing about living in the Appalachians. But nobody asked me, and no amount of bitching is going to change the annual Phantom Fest the town throws every year to commemorate our founding members—my ancestors actually.
“As you are all aware by now, this year is the one hundredth anniversary of the first sighting of the Phantom, and this year’s festival has the potential to be bigger than ever.
“For many people, he’s just a tall tale, but at Kingsley Industries, we believe he represents something so much more than a spooky story passed down for generations. As the story goes, my great-grandmother, Arlene Ashford, experienced the very first encounter with the Phantom, where he not so kindly warned her about the pollution the town was creating with their coal mines and processing factories.
“The people were sick. The land was barren. The town was all but deserted, as families were forced to move away for any chance at finding work. The men who stayed worked dangerous jobs, many of who lost their lives that horrible day.”
The room falls silent as we remember the tragic past that led Ashford Falls to where we are today.
“Every year, we honor the message the Phantom brought my great-grandmother, and by doing so, our home has flourished with rich job opportunities, a booming economy, and clean air with pollution levels at an all-time low.”
I join in as the table erupts in applause. I might not like the festival, but I am proud of the changes we’ve made for our community’s health.
“So, in honor of the one hundredth anniversary, I’d like to put together a task force and planning committee to lead and take full ownership of the festival.” He pauses for an uncomfortable moment as awkward tension fills the air.
“Anyone at all? Come on. Surely, someone’s eager to offer a helping hand to put on the town’s favorite event of the year. Remember, your workload will be temporarily assigned to another team so you can focus on your festival planning duties. It could be a fun way to mix things up.” He pauses once more, and the room goes so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
He tries again. “It’s an important part of our company culture as well as this great town’s heritage, not to mention all the charities we’re able to help with the proceeds every year. Maybe this year, someone new will feel called to give back. Someone who hasn’t done it for the last five years in a row.”
I fake a cough to cover my laugh at the desperation of his plea, which only draws more attention to me as heads turn in my direction. My father’s gaze finds me, and I quickly look away.
Who in their right mind would be okay with a group helping to take on their workload?
I, for one, am far too much of a perfectionist for that … not to mention my mile-long list of trust issues.
“Of course, everyone will receive fair compensation for their time,” Roman adds.
“I’d like us to get a head start on the planning. So, if that’s something you’re interested in helping with, I’d love to get the ball rolling.” He looks around the room, and my eyes conveniently fall to my computer screen, where I finish typing out an email.
After a moment of complete silence, my dad clears his throat. “Good idea to get on top of things, Roman. Maybe we can send out an email at the end of next week and ask for volunteers, give everyone some time to come up with their ideas.”
We all know whoever’s appointed to the committee will have to be volun-told because no one has time for planning a festival on top of everything else they have to do.
“That brings us to our next topic of discussion.” My dad fidgets with his pen as he waits for everyone’s attention.
I sit up a little straighter, and my pulse kicks up a notch. My dad only fidgets when he’s got something important to say or he’s nervous. And I think I know just what this is about.
“As you know, Leo’s been working on the Thompson Brothers deal diligently over the last year, and I’m pleased to inform you, they signed a contract to partner with Kingsley Industries and carry all our brands as generics in all two thousand stores across North America.”
The table erupts in applause with people whooping and hollering and slapping my back to congratulate me. My chest swells with pride, and in that moment, all the stress and long hours feel worth it. I’m beaming, and it feels incredible to hit such a gigantic goal.
When my father started this company twenty-five years ago, he didn’t cut any corners. We’ve been able to reduce our carbon footprint by thirty-eight percent, and that doesn’t even account for the extra steps we’ve taken to utilize sustainable energy in all our factories. This partnership will allow us to serve thirty percent more of the low-income families in rural America, thus eliminating further pollution and providing safe, chemical-free, biodegradable products to the people who need them most.
It’s a big fucking deal, and I feel honored to have contributed to that.
My dad stands from the far end of the conference table, and everyone’s chatter settles down.
“As you all know, I’m not getting any younger …”
I suck in a breath. Is he really doing this today?
I straighten my tie and wipe nonexistent wrinkles from my pants. I can’t believe this is happening. Everything I’ve been working so hard for is all about to come true …
“I’ve been giving a lot of thought to retiring—what it would mean for this company and the people of Ashford Falls. When I started Kingsley Industries, I had a great idea, sure, but it was just a seed. It was my beautiful wife, Mary, who insisted we rebuild this place she grew up into its former glory … and then some. But it’s the people here, that are the fertile soil which enabled it to grow. Ashford Falls wouldn’t be what it is today without Kingsley Industries … but we wouldn’t be who we are without this town either.” He weaves his fingers together to demonstrate. “So, after much deliberation and persistent nudges from my lovely wife, I’ve decided to retire on my sixtieth birthday, which just so happens to fall on the same day as this year’s Phantom Fest.”
You could hear a pin drop; the room is so quiet. My dad’s always had a way of commanding attention, but this is perhaps the biggest news this company’s seen since we went public ten years ago.
“Which brings me to my next announcement.” He pauses until he has everyone’s complete attention. “I’ve decided my replacement will be …”
I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants legs as I steady my breathing.
“Carl Manchester.”
My heart drops to my stomach, and I nearly fall out of my seat. A high-pitched ringing fills my ears from the sudden change in my blood pressure.
Did I just hear that right?
Did my father just name Carl as his replacement over me, his oldest son?
I shake my head, trying to make it make sense. I thought for sure I was a shoo-in.
I mean, I landed the Thompson deal; he was just congratulating me two minutes ago over it. I’ve worked my ass off for this company, never taken a vacation, only called in sick once when I had the flu and they forced me not to come in—and still, I worked from home until I was cleared to come back.
How? How is this happening?
Is this about the incident? Who am I kidding? Of course it is.
I meet my dad’s gaze, and his eyes are rimmed with tears. He looks disappointed, and my gut sinks with that all-too-familiar feeling of shame.
If it takes me the rest of my life to atone for my mistake, then I’m prepared for that, but I know my impact will go further if I’m the one calling the shots. I can only control so much from my current position.
But now’s not the time to dig up the past. People are watching me, and I need to put on a professional face.
I congratulate Carl and shake his hand, pretend like I’m excited even. Honestly, it’s nothing against Carl. The guy is fantastic—hence why my dad chose him—but he’s in his late fifties, and he doesn’t exactly have the freshest ideas for growth. Nothing like how I’d lead.
“With that said, that’s a wrap for Q2. Now, who’s up for tacos? There’s a food truck parked outside and a bar set up with margaritas in the cafeteria. Carl, yours is on the house.” Dad wraps an arm around Carl, then calls over his shoulder, “Just kidding. It’s all on the house.”
As if we all didn’t know that already.
My dad might be a savvy businessman, but he will always find room in the budget to celebrate his people. It’s the foundation of our entire work culture and everything our family stands for.
Soft chatter fills the room as everyone gathers their things, then follows my dad downstairs to the cafeteria like he’s the Pied Piper.
I sag back in my seat with a grunt and stare up at the ceiling. The last thing I want to do is make small talk over shared tacos right now.
“So … that’s kind of a bummer,” Roman says, and I squint my eyes open to see him standing over me.
“Do you need something or?—”
He holds his hands over his chest and looks offended. “Can I not commiserate in your misery, big brother?”
“Sure. But I’d like to be miserable in silence.” I close my eyes again, doing my best to ignore him.
“I know now’s not really the best time to bring this up … but since it looks like you’re already kind of having a shitty day, I just thought I’d warn you that Bartholomew’s birthday party is this weekend.” He snaps his fingers and then claps. “Obviously, we need you to be there for the group photo.”
I sit up in a rush, making my head spin. “Are you fucking with me right now?”
“No. Why would I joke about something like this? You know how Mom is?—”
“He’s a cat, Rome. Mom found him in a trash can. She has no idea how old he is, much less when his birthday is?—”
“You know as well as I do that the pet psychic told Mom his birthday?—”
“Do you hear yourself right now? I don’t know if I’ve ever heard so many words in a sentence that don’t go together.” I grip the arms of the chair and spin in a circle as I stare up at the ceiling.
How is this what I have to deal with after receiving that soul-crushing news?
“Anyway”—he winces—“that’s not all.” He shoves his hands in his pockets and puffs out his cheeks.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, just spit it out.”
“Mom’s planning a surprise blind date for you at the party. She’s going to ambush you with an errand or something, so you’ll be stuck with one of her knitting group friend’s daughters …” He lets out a heavy exhale like he’s relieved to get that off his chest.
Roman is the sweet brother, which means my mom feels comfortable telling him her wild plans … which also makes him the family snitch. I don’t envy him for it, but I guess that’s what happens when you’re the middle child of five boys.
I groan and press the burning ache in my chest. This stress is giving me indigestion. In fact, I can’t remember the last time I didn’t have indigestion … maybe the last time I was stress-free? So, when I was twelve?
“Why does she keep doing this? I told her I’m not interested?—”
“Maybe if you actually got out of this office and dated, she wouldn’t feel the need to help you,” Roman offers.
“Gee, thanks, Einstein. But you have no idea about my dating life. You don’t know what I do when I leave. Just because I don’t galivant my private life all over town doesn’t mean I’m not dating.” The wheels in my head begin to spin as the lie starts to take root.
“Whatever, dude. You’re so full of shit?—”
“I’m serious. Just because you haven’t met her doesn’t mean I’m not seeing someone,” I lie.
“Really? Where did you meet?”
“We, uh … we met at a charity event last summer. She spent the whole night busting my balls, and I couldn’t get enough of her. I’d never met anyone so … vibrant and magnetic. I don’t think I could’ve stayed away from her if I tried. At the end of the night, I gave her a ride home, and we ended up spending the whole weekend together.”
A little truth sprinkled in with the lie makes for a believable story.
Not too bad for being off the top of my head.
“We hit it off, and we’ve been doing the long-distance thing ever since.”
I give him my best convincing grin, but he narrows his eyes like he doesn’t believe me. Not that I blame him. All I do is work.
“A year, huh? So, I guess it’s pretty serious?”
Okay, maybe a year was a bit generous, but I’m committed now.
“Oh, yeah. Very serious. She’s incredible?—”
“What’s her name?” he fires off, and I’m taken aback by the abrupt question.
“Her name? It’s, uh …” I answer with the first name that comes to my head. “Ivy. Her name’s Ivy Lane.”
A slow smile breaks across his face as he pulls out his phone and types something. Instantly, I feel the buzz of a message notification in my pocket.
“Cool. I guess if she’s real, you don’t mind me telling everyone. I mean, since it’s been a year, it kind of feels like it’s time for us to meet her, don’t you think?”
He backs away, wearing a sly grin, and I have to force myself to not throw the phone—which is now blowing up with text messages—right at his cocky face.
“See you at the party this weekend. I can’t wait to meet Ivy,” he singsongs before turning to leave.
“Fuck me,” I sigh as I pull out my phone to assess the damage. It’s worse than I imagined.
Roman
Guess what Leo just told me
Apparently, he’s got a secret girlfriend he’s been hiding… for a YEAR!
Guy
Why are you interrupting me in the middle of the day to tell me this?
Mom
SHUT UP!!!
Are you serious, Roman?
Is this a prank?
Because you know I hate being pranked.
Roman
It’s not a prank, Mom. He just told me about her.
Mom
Oh my goodness. Miracles do come true! I’m going to knit her something.
Leo, what’s her shirt size? How large are her breasts? I want to make sure it’s comfortable.
Luka
Whoa, Mom, you can’t just ask how big her tits are first thing…
Seriously though, how big are they?
Leo
I don’t know. They’re normal. Why do you need to know?
Guy
Normal? Really, Leo? Wait… has she not shown you?
Tell me she’s not one of those wait-for-marriage girls???
Luka
IDK. I think it could be hot…
Leo
I don’t think she needs a sweater. She’s got plenty of clothes.
Mom
Who said anything about a sweater? I’m making a halter top. I can show you mine so you can see.
Leo
I’d really rather not.
Guy
And now, my weiner’s sucked inside my body.
Mom
It’s doing that again? It always used to do that when you were a baby. The doctor said it was because you were so fat, but maybe you can ask Dr. Stone to look at it next time you see him?
Guy
I WAS JOKING, MOM!
Luka
Ha-ha, Guy’s got an innie weenie.
Mom
There’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a medical condition.
Jett
I thought I unsubscribed from this text thread…
Roman
You can’t escape us that easily. I added you back.
Jett Kingsley has left the group message.
Leo
Okay, I’m putting my phone away now. Some of us have work to do.
I pocket my phone and make my way down the hall into my office. As soon as I open my email, my phone buzzes again. This time, it’s just from my dad, and it’s sent directly to me.
Dad
That’s fantastic news, Leo. I assume you’re bringing her? I can’t wait to hear all about the woman who finally broke down that hard shell of yours. She must be something special. Let’s talk this weekend. —Dad
“Fuck,” I mutter as I bang my head against my desk.
What am I going to do now?