Chapter 3
“You’re a sadist,” I snarled as my shaking arms finally succumbed, nearly collapsing on my face as I awkwardly lumbered onto my back.
“That may be, but my evil ways have given you a delectable ass, so you’re welcome.”
“Ffffffs,” the attempted curse came out like a hiss and Max snickered as he gracefully lowered to the mat beside me.
“Tell your assistant to stop giving me the stink eye.”
“Christopher? What’s he going on about?” Blinking over at his too-pretty face, I forced both eyes open to the cell phone he had pointed at me, my spectacularly styled and obnoxiously punctual assistant glaring back at me from the screen.
“He’s going on about the fact that Max promised you’d be done by ten,” Chris said dryly.
“Yeah?” I panted, blinking back at him.
“It’s a quarter after.”
I fought back the smile that threatened the corners of my mouth. “Is there a meeting I’m forgetting about? I thought Jenna was on the calendar for noon.”
“Yes,” he snipped pointedly in that blunt New Yorker’s accent. Chris and I met at a gala that my younger brother, Finn, invited me to a few years back. The event benefitted the art society in New York City, and I’d known that night I’d have to spirit him away on my own. When the pandemic shut down the life he’d loved in Manhattan, he’d chomped at the bit to join my predominantly-remote team until he proved so invaluable, I bribed him to follow me from gig to gig until—and unless—some beautiful blonde swept him away and demanded he put a ring on her finger. “But if you don’t eat between now and then, there will be nothing in the way of productive conversation and everything in the way of a hangry velociraptor. Ten-sixteen,” he added for emphasis. Raising my hands in reluctant surrender, I rose to stand before turning to hoist Max to his feet.
“Okay, okay, I’ll hop in and out of the shower and be ready to go.”
“If I promise to feed the tyrannosaurus, will you get your ugly mug off my screen?” Max griped. I wrinkled my brow. Chris was anything but ugly. Six foot one, sandy-brown hair, gentle green eyes framed by smile lines, a sexy plaid cashmere scarf wrapped around his lean neck—how the man was single was beyond me.
“Fine.”
“Fine,” Max bit back. My brows had likely merged with my hairline by the time his gaze landed on mine after ending the video chat and slipping his phone in his pocket. “That man bugs me.”
“Jealous?” I teased.
“You were mine first,” he lamented with a theatrical whine as we turned towards the locker rooms.
Looping our arms together with a grin, I assured, “And forever shall be.”
“Don’t you fucking forget it. Okay, shower, brunch, Jenna—what’s next on our calendar?”
“Touring that building downtown to see if it’s a good fit for the school.”
“I still think it should be virtual.”
“Of course you do,” I said, rolling my eyes. Max practically ran a cyber security firm called Jorogumo Defense; his computer was more of an appendage than an autonomous tool. “Not all of us speak in code, Maxi.”
“You could if you slowed down long enough to listen to me.”
“That would require one fewer shot of espresso in my morning oat milk latte, and that just ain’t gonna happen.”
“At least you’re a cute little energizer bunny.” His words made me smirk, and I shook my head. “Aren’t you lucky you have me?”
“Obviously,” I said as we split ways to gather our things and slink into fleece lined coats to fight off the frigid air. Reunited, Max pushed open the front door of the gym and I winced as the brisk Chicago air bit at my skin, the promise of the season’s first snow an abrasive greeting. The fact that Max dictated his schedule and loved sightseeing enough to meet me all over the country would never get old.
Sometimes, it was for weeks at a time, others were just for lunch, or a night on the town, but his arrival always brought a little piece of Mistyvale with him, and I clung to it like a buoy. This stop had been particularly fun, as we got to watch one of my younger brothers, Paxton, play football, facing off with his rival as he quarterbacked the way to victory for the Windy City Wolves.
Having a literal dozen of us scattered over the country was brutal, but there was something fun about having someone to visit and cheer for everywhere I wandered.
Chicago promised me not one, but three speaking engagements this week, and now we’d be parting ways, which always put a lump in my throat. Max was heading home to Alaska, and I was bound for Vegas for the summit. Anticipatory nerves twisted in my belly as the clock ticked down inside my subconscious. It was almost go-time, and I was beyond prepared. But for today, I needed to soak up my limited hours with my best friend and little brother. We likely wouldn’t cross paths again until after the holidays, and I loathed the perpetual distance.
“I still say it’s too damn cold here. The Windy City,” he scoffed, tightening his black jacket against the frigid air.
“As though that’s any less appealing than Mistyvale,” I countered. Our little Alaskan island lived up to its name, shrouded in a perpetual state of slate gray over the climb of spruce covered mountains. Nevertheless, none of us could help but wander back in a steady rotation. “Besides, Chicago needs a program like this. With poverty rates at an all-time high, the best thing I could do is empower women to close the income gap for themselves. They just need the right resources.”
Wrinkling his nose, Max said, “Fine. But if you land here, I’m appointing you a bodyguard. Murder rates are ridiculous, Elly.”
I laughed, but when he just glared at me, my mouth popped open. How much money did the man make at that tech firm, anyway? “You can’t be serious.”
“As a diabetic in a shaved ice parlor.”
“You’re worse than Jameson.”
“I learned it somewhere,” he snickered. I was close with all my siblings, but some had more helicopter tendencies than others. Jameson was certainly in that category. “Alright, food, conquer meetings, tour your bodyguard’s future haunt. Got it.”
“El,you’re looking at some major renovations here,” Paxton noted that evening as we toured my potential school. Like me, that wasn’t necessarily a deterrent so much as a statement of fact. We Rhodes were raised with a ‘how can I’ attitude, not a ‘can I’ handicap. “You’re going to need at least a million just for the building.”
“Which is why we’re applying for more than one grant,” Mara reminded him with just as much enthusiasm as I had through the phone screen as I rotated her angle to see the entire width of the room. “Oooh! Those windows!” she gushed.
Paxton had been the first of my siblings to pledge a chunk of cash towards our school under the condition that he was a silent investor, and we didn’t publicize his involvement. The press was savage, and always looking to poke holes in the personal lives of anyone successful, star quarterbacks included. If a pissed off reporter didn’t get the interview they wanted with Chicago’s heartthrob, it wouldn’t take them long to turn their irritation on the project in a petty attempt at revenge. I didn’t like it, but if Pax felt like that would protect our mission, so be it.
“We’re gonna need a few more,” he grumbled, snapping a piece of rotted trim off the doorframe with his bare thumb. I winced.
“Okay, and maybe we’re still hunting for a better location,” I agreed. “I don’t want the entire grant going to structural stability. I’d like a portion left over for salaries and equipment.”
“A different location, like somewhere sunny?” Max asked hopefully as he used the rubber eraser on his pencil to poke at water damaged drywall.
“I can’t say I’d be mad about another reason to visit Florida,” Pax noted, careful to keep his tone neutral and shifting back to look at me as he slowly sipped his black coffee. He’d already been down to visit our big brother, Rhyett, and his wife in Tampa at least half a dozen times since our niece was born.
Most of my brothers looked very much alike—the same easily tanned skin, those trademark gray eyes, and varying shades of loose brunette curls—save for Rhyett and Axel, who somehow ended up blond. Paxton had always been one of the more agreeable of my brothers, with a high willingness to take part in shenanigans and a higher tolerance for being doled out roles that came with pain. His years playing in the NFL had wracked his tall frame with muscle that I would very much be needing if we were going to accomplish this restoration during his off season. He had one more year on his contract with the Wolves, and then nobody knew where he’d end up. I couldn’t picture him giving up his career at thirty, but it seemed to be the norm for the industry—bow out before his body forced the decision. Running a broad palm over his neatly styled short hair, he tongued over a canine, eyes scouring the room I was already envisioning as a lecture hall with its gorgeous, high stretching metal framed windows, and exposed brick wall dividing it from the neighboring space.
So what if there was a little water damage, and a whole lotta drywall damage? That’s literally what renovations were for. The natural light would keep it cheery year around, even through the dreary months of back-to-back blizzards. The acoustics were perfect, and if the crew could restore the hardwood floors, it would be magical.
“I’m not saying no,” Pax said gently, “but I am saying we should keep our options open. I don’t see this place flying off the market in this condition. Get through the summit, secure the funding, then we look at all our options, whether they’re here in Chicago, or somewhere…warmer.”
“Thank you, QB,” Max said smugly, rising from where he’d been examining some sort of moisture buildup behind the trim with a sneer so disapproving his lip was about to curl.
“Okay, okay,” I said, glancing down at Mara on my phone screen, whose expression was equal parts amused and exasperated. “We keep hunting?”
“Aye-aye, Captain.”
I laughed before exchanging quick goodbyes and pocketing my phone, following the guys down the stairs and out of the massive gothic building, where we all eyed the enormous exterior. “I just love the?—”
“History of the place,” Pax finished.
“Yeah,” I agreed before Max’s hands landed on my shoulders, yanking me toward him.
“I say this with love, Elly. But don’t sink this ship for aesthetics. You’ve got too much potential, and too much time wrapped into it to not be pragmatic with this.”
“I know.”
“Okay. As your best friend, it’s my job to make sure that head of yours stays at least distantly connected to the earth.”
Laughing, I wrapped an arm around each of their waists, and turned to walk to our lunch date, somewhere we hoped Pax could enjoy his double chicken breast on salad without being recognized behind a thick beanie and aviators. “Thanks for coming with me, guys.”
“Anytime,” my not-so-little brother said, giving me a squeeze as we marched in sync down the sidewalk. “You have fun in Vegas—but not too much fun. I don’t want to wire you bail money—and don’t make your competitors cry too hard, okay?” Mostly, I was just hung up on the fact that he probably would wire me bail money if I needed it. Fighting back my smile, I led us to our last Chicago dinner of the year. This was going to work. Tomorrow would be a day of a few dozen emails and one decent layover before I was in a much warmer climate. And then my fun would begin.
Broderick
“You all packed up, teach?”Jake asked at guys’ night the day before my flight out for the summit. I had, in fact, purged my house in the three weeks since I kicked Sarah out, starting with the damn mattress she’d defiled with who knows how many men. The long-overdue renovation had officially begun, starting in the outdated kitchen. Poker nights were a biweekly ritual for all of us these days, although they’d felt like a goddamned life preserver this month. The guys helped me keep my head on straight, sights set on winning this grant as I dealt with the fallout of the official end of our relationship. I wasn’t a social guy, by any means, but when you grew up with the Rhodes family, just their bloodline ensured a decent obligatory social circle. Jake was one of their innumerable cousins, and coincidentally, one of the easiest guys to get along with. His brother, Charlie, was the same, despite being our town sheriff.
“Yeah,” I sighed, keeping my poker face as I stared him down, waiting to see what he would do. Jameson tapped his cards against the table impatiently, while his younger brother, Axel, laced his fingers behind his head.
“I‘m sure he was color coded a week ago,” Jameson said dryly, smirking in my direction. Yeah, I liked organization, so what? If I didn’t properly pre-plan, I’d inevitably forget something crucial.
“If you bothered to wear anything but black, you could try it some time,” I snipped back as Jake tossed his chips into the pot, raising the bet. To Jake, I added, “Flight out is at seven am.”
“Nice. You’ll be warm by sundown.”
“Thank God for that.” A thirty-degree difference would feel insanely awesome.
“Need to run through your presentation again?” Charlie offered helpfully, always a willing encourager.
“I think he could sign it, mime it and Morse code it,” Axel countered with a chuckle. He’d endured more than a dozen renditions alongside Jameson and Noel as they all helped me prepare for the trip.
“Good,” Charlie grunted, raising his beer. “Cheers to new beginnings.”
“I can cheers to that,” I said, lifting my beer as the guys all did the same. The clink of glass was accompanied by a chorus of, “To new beginnings,” and, “To Broderick,” and my chest tightened. It would disappoint more than just me if I failed this quest, so I had to ensure I didn’t.
Fingers lacedlike a net behind my head, I floated in the hot tub, staring up at illuminated palm trees twenty-four hours later. The last glimpse of blue light faded away when I finally peeled myself out of the resort hot tub, toweling off before I stepped into flip-flops. After a shockingly uneventful travel day, I’d settled in, ordered an early dinner, ran my thoughts like a hamster on a wheel in a fierce internal debate over re-writing my entire presentation, though I ultimately left it as is.
Instead, I stripped down, stepped into swim trunks and swam my laps in the heated pool before forcing myself to sit still long enough for a thirty-minute soak in the saltwater sauna. I was ready to hunker down with a good book before getting into bed at a time that would make my grandfather proud. Tomorrow was registration day, and that would inevitably entail a tremendous amount of social interaction I certainly couldn’t care less to indulge. Tolerating that required extra sleep.
That anxiety churning in my stomach was only exacerbated when I stepped back into the hell-scape that was the casino floor. The entire resort was a labyrinth of intricately designed pathways that led to more debauched chaos. “Excuse me, sir, where are the elevators?” I asked a man dressed in a gold, lame piped uniform.
“Follow the patterned carpeting to the flashing lights,” he said without bothering to even look at me as he power-walked through the sea of slot machines.
Left with the least helpful set of directions in the history of all humankind, I chose the least offensive pattern and followed it. As luck would have it, I chose the wrong pattern and found myself wandering past innumerable shops, restaurants, card tables, and slot machines, all hoping to milk a man for every last penny to his name before spitting him out into the cruel desert heat. To paraphrase the Eagles, you can checkout anytime you like, but your money can never leave.
A new sense of apprehension slowed my steps as the chatter of the bustling lobby swallowed the soft slap of my flip-flops on white marble. Countless voices bounced off the intricately carved walls and mural-painted ceiling. But my attention zeroed in on a lean female form poured into a classy black dress and red heels. Brunette hair cascaded down to her shoulder blades, frizzy from an inevitable day of airport insanity, judging by the two carry-on sized bags at her feet. Shoulders tense, she set her long, manicured hands on the desk pleadingly, and goosebumps walked down my spine as a knowing set in. Cautiously edging in closer than necessary to pass them on the way to the elevator, I confirmed what I already knew when she turned, yanking her hand through waves I knew from experience were like silk to the touch.
Holy hell.
More beautiful than my memory ever did justice, Elora Rhodes looked exhausted and uncharacteristically discouraged as she knelt to retrieve her discarded luggage. Her hair had grown out since I’d seen her last, and she’d dyed it darker, making those gray-blues impossibly brighter. More definition had built into her biceps, like she’d been honing her strength towards impossible perfection.
If she wasn’t Rhyett and Jameson’s little sister, I probably would have asked her out fresh out of high school. The moment she was legal, I would’ve done the whole roses and a boombox outside her window deal—or something equally pathetic in an effort to woo her. As it was, a teenage pact amongst the guys barred any of us from crossing that boundary. James got his heart stomped on by El and Hadlee’s friend, and when she became impossible for him to avoid–plaguing the house and after event parties until Rhyett caved and told the girls what she’d done to their brother–we’d all vowed to stay away from our best friend’s sisters or sisters’ best friends. In a town as small as Mistyvale, it only made sense, and we’d all honored it like law ever since. There was a section in there about moms and aunts too, but I didn’t think that had presented an issue for any of us. The worst part? I’d pushed him into that relationship in the first place, and the weight of his bruised heart had been my burden ever since.
Even now, a neon warning sign flashed in my mind screaming off limits. As I watched her nervously lick her lips, I’d never regretted that agreement more in my life. With a huff, El straightened, and when those blue eyes landed on me, her red lips popped open in surprise.
Well, shit.