Chapter 23
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
THANE
If I thought the Scuttlebutt welcome committee was out of their minds, it’s nothing compared to the Scuttlebutt care team.
Someone has shown up to Lottie’s house twice a day for the last week and a half. If it didn’t amuse Kara so much, I would’ve installed a large gate around the property to keep them out.
“You’re damn lucky,” Mr. Abboud is saying. I’ve lost track of how many times those words have come from his lips alone. For someone who thrives on counting shit, that’s saying something.
He makes it nearly impossible to ignore him. I much prefer when Mr. Carver is on babysitting duty. At least he leaves me alone while he watches shit on YouTube. Apparently, Mrs. Carver doesn’t approve of his doomsday scrolling, so he gets his fill while he’s here.
“Yes.” I’ve found that if I comment occasionally, Mr. Abboud will basically talk to himself while I remind myself that I’m putting up with it for Kara. She’ll only leave the house when she knows someone is with me, and today is her book club.
Lottie thought it was important for the two of them to go together.
Rafe walks in Lottie’s front door. He’s extended his stay with us. Apparently everyone thinks I’m made of glass. He smirks when he finds Mr. Abboud has moved from the sofa to sit directly beside me at the kitchen island.
“I’m all packed up.” Rafe clasps his hands behind him and rocks back on his heels.
I grunt in response. It’s probably the first time I’ve had any kind of emotional response to him leaving. Normally I’m ready for him to go so he’ll stop hounding me.
But this time, it’s different, almost as though I might actually miss the bastard.
“Have you talked to Lottie? What are you going to do with Kara?” he asks.
I close my notebook when he sits across from me.
My options are to move Kara over here with us and put her…somewhere, or I’d have to leave Lottie and move into Rafe’s room next door. Technically, it’s the same house, but it’s a duplex, so I don’t want to leave Kara by herself, not that I would. But leaving Lottie doesn’t sit right either.
“I haven’t decided yet.”
Lottie knocked down walls on this side of the duplex and turned the upstairs into a master suite, and it’s still too fucking small up there. Luckily, I’ve kept that opinion to myself.
“Well, you better figure it out soon. The car will be here to get me in the morning.”
A timer goes off. “Right on time, Rafe. Right on time.” Mr. Abboud stands and places his hands on his round belly while he stretches side to side.
Mr. Abboud holds out a hand to Rafe. “Nice meetin’ ya, son. Don’t be a stranger now.”
Rafe shakes his hand. Affability comes so easy to him, it’s annoying.
I stay quiet as Mr. Abboud exits Lottie’s home, knowing Rafe will fill the silence in three, two, one…
“Kara’s doing better than I expected her to. But I still want to talk to you about something.”
I maintain eye contact so he knows I’m listening. You are learning. Asshole narrators.
“She mentioned not wanting to go back to your dad when he finishes the mandatory childcare courses.”
“If he finishes. And that’s a big if, but I know. She told me the same thing.” I toss my pencil onto the counter.
“She’s thirteen. These next five to ten years won’t be easy ones.”
“It doesn’t matter. I promised to take care of her, and I will.” Everything on his face reaches for the sky as though the sun is physically pulling his features into a smile. Happy motherfucker.
“I know you will,” he says. “My point is, raising a teenager is hard under normal circumstances, and nothing about her life has been normal. Plus, your father will probably fight for custody simply because of the optics of losing her.”
I’d already thought of this.
“Even without all of that, I would’ve suggested this based on what she’s already been through, but it might actually kill two birds with one stone.”
“What?” I ask.
“You should see if she’s open to seeing a therapist in person. Someone local. This kind of trauma doesn’t magically go away on its own, and if push comes to shove, you’ll have a professional in your corner who’s able to testify on her behalf that she’s the happiest, and the most stable, here with you.”
Or it could backfire, and I could lose her if the therapist says I’m too different to meet her needs.
“Family therapy for you and Kara wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”
I recoil at the thought. My father attempted to shove me into therapy more times than I can count, always searching for a solution to my problems , but it usually ended with someone trying to medicate me or put me in one hospital or another.
“It won’t be what your father put you through,” he says, clearly knowing me too well. “Family therapy will help the two of you communicate and learn to trust one another. It’ll be good for her, Thane.”
That was the ace up his sleeve. He knows I’ll do anything I can to give her everything that’s been taken from her.
“I’ll talk to her.” I tap against the granite. One, two, three, and four. “And I’ll consider family therapy.”
“That’s all I ask.” He’s really a smug bastard sometimes. “When you come to New York for the fundraiser, Kara can stay with me. I got us tickets to a Broadway show she wants to see. I’ll make a whole night of it.”
Some of my annoyance slips away. “Thank you.” I hadn’t thought about what to do with Kara when we go back to New York, and I need to fix that. If I’m going to be her permanent guardian, I need to start thinking more like a father.
Reopening my notebook, I write down: Find books on parenting teens.
“You know I’d do anything for you.”
“Yeah, but I’ve never understood why.” We’ve already covered that I’m a shitty friend. I can practically feel his gaze on me, so I stare even more intently at my notebook.
“You have a good heart. And I knew that someday, you’d stop hiding it. Plus…” He stands, prompting me to finally look up, only to find a shit-eating grin covering his entire face. “We all need a charity case in our lives. You were my only option.”
My bark of laughter shocks us both. “You can be a real asshole.”
“I learned from the best.” He winks at me like a fucking pervert. “Now, let’s go talk to Boone. I saw him pulling in next door earlier.”
“He’s supposed to be taking time off,” I grumble as I follow my friend to the door.
“It would appear he listens about as well as you do.”
* * *
“What the hell are you doing?” I shout over the empty lot, causing Boone to stop in his tracks. He’s pushing a wheelbarrow of debris toward the dumpster that was delivered a few days ago.
“What does it look like?” Did he just shout at me? Boone has always been an affable guy. When I’m close enough to study his face, he kind of reminds me of what I see in the mirror every day—pissed off and irritated as hell.
“I told you to take some time off.”
“And I own my own damn business, so I work when I want to work.” That was certainly a growl.
Rafe rocks back on his heels. “You okay, Boone?”
Rafe and I stand back as Boone rams the wheelbarrow straight up a ramp and into the dumpster.
Wiping his hands on his jeans, he walks back to us. “Wanna get a drink?”
I turn to Rafe. I don’t get drinks with the guys. I’m not one of the guys. I never have been, and I certainly don’t day-drink with them.
“Sure,” Rafe says with a careless shrug.
“Good. Let’s go.” Boone walks toward his truck, and Rafe follows.
“I have work to do.” Nothing about this screams good idea to me.
“It can wait. Get your ass in the truck, Wilder.”
I lift my brows at the back of Boone’s head. No one orders me around like that.
“Come on, Thane. It’ll be good for you.”
I glare at Rafe. “The last time you said that to me, I ended up with my head in a toilet for twelve hours.”
He chuckles and climbs into the back seat of Boone’s pickup truck, leaving the door open as if he knows I’ll follow.
“Let’s go, Wilder. I don’t have all day.”
I’m pretty sure it’s shock that has me following Boone’s orders. Once I’m in the truck, I pull out my phone to text Lottie.
Me: Somehow, I got roped into going for a drink with Boone and Rafe. If I’m not home in one hour, come get me.
Me: Please.
Lottie: That’s…unexpected.
I glare at Boone.
Me: You have no idea.
Lottie: Well, have fun. Kara and I are making dinner together tonight anyway. We’ll meet you at home.
Home.
I lock onto that word and to help me get through this next hour with these imbeciles. I know my girls will be waiting for me…at home.
* * *
“You have three siblings named Macallan, Jameson, and Bailey? Your parents named you all after alcohol?” I’m not sure why I’m fixated on their names, but it’s been a gnat in my brain since Rafe mentioned it.
“You’re one to talk… Thane . My brothers go by Cal and James. Only my baby sister goes by her full name. Plus, our pub has been in my family for generations. It makes sense. What are you named after?”
“It’s Old English and means warrior.”
“Of course you’d know that.” Boone tosses back his second beer.
“And they’re all here?” Rafe asks.
“Showed up the day after his house blew up.”
“And that’s a problem because?” I’m not following, and normally, I’d be okay with that, but since it was my house that blew up with him in it, obligation forces me to make an effort.
“James is seventeen and Bailey is fifteen. It’s not them I have the issue with. They’re still babies. Cal and I were adults when they were born.”
“Then what’s your issue with Cal?” I ask. Getting answers wouldn’t be this hard if he’d just spit it the fuck out.
“That’s between us.” His chair scrapes against the wood floor as he heads back to the bar. Moments later, he’s back and pressing new beers into our hands.
I haven’t even finished my first one.
“Then what are we doing here? If you don’t want to talk about your brother, what the hell do you want to talk about?”
He downs half a pint, before lifting his gaze to mine. “Ava wants me to try and make amends while he’s here. She says I’m the asshole.”
My head is ready to explode. This is why I don’t have friends. “Who the hell is Ava?”
Boone chokes on his beer, then sets it down and crosses his arms over his chest. “You give a woman a check for forty thousand dollars, and you don’t even know her name?”
Forty…Oh.
“She told me her name was Sharky. How am I supposed to keep track? Nicknames, real names, surnames. Everyone appears to have multiple call signs for different people.”
“Cal’s met a girl. He wants me to come home and meet her,” Boone says, ignoring me.
I’m going to shut my mouth and let this trainwreck happen. It’s too much for me to follow.
“I take it you don’t want to. But you’re here, talking to us, so something’s making you second-guess yourself.” Rafe is playing therapist again—even though he says he’s not licensed.
“James is almost an adult now. The last time I saw him in person, he was two feet shorter than me. And Bailey? Jesus. I don’t know how Cal’s dealing with her. They’re so…grown up.”
“You miss them.” How did Rafe pull that assumption from his ass?
But Boone nods, so I guess Rafe’s ass knows what it’s talking about.
“I miss Cal too—but I don’t think I can ever forgive him.”
Forgive him for what? Never mind, I don’t want to know. I finish my beer and start in on my second. I’m already starting to feel hazy, so it’ll have to be my last. On second thought, I’ll switch to water.
The damn IPAs with eight percent alcohol are nothing but trouble. Sip of Sunshine, my ass. It should be called Sip of Moonshine.
I snort at my cleverness. These two idiots continue talking through Boone’s problem, so I tune them out. I have enough problems of my own.
What am I going to do with the property that blew up?
How do I get Lottie to let me help her with the technical side of her business?
How do I tell her I’ve been playing Whac-A-Mole with her hackers?
Why do I keep referring to her as my fiancée in my head?
That’s the one I keep coming back to. Hearing her call herself my fiancée shifted something in my brain—like a chemical reaction that can’t be undone, she’s changed the way I see her.
“Thane, are you coming?”
I blink Rafe into focus. He and Boone are standing, each holding a pool stick in their hands.
Glancing at the table, I groan. They’ve each had another full beer while I was fantasizing about making Lottie my fiancée for real. And worse, I finished off my second one.
“Where are we going?” Did I slur those words? I don’t drink… I leave that vice to my father, yet somehow, here I am, drunk off two beers. Or was it three? There are too many empties on the table for me to decipher.
“Playing pool until the girls get here to pick us up.” Rafe hands me a pool stick as though I have any idea what to do with it.
I shove it back into his hands. “I don’t know how to play pool.” But I join them on the other side of the room anyway.
“Want another beer?” a server asks, appearing out of nowhere.
“No. Two is enough.”
Boone laughs. “That’s your fourth, my friend.” He glances at the mug in my hand, then back to the pool table.
“No, it’s not.”
“It is.” Rafe chuckles. “But it’s okay, we’re done. Some water would be good though.” The server smiles at him and walks away.
Four beers? Four Sip of Moonshines? Jesus. The porcelain gods had better stay far away from me, or I’m going to be pissed.
I sit on a stool while Boone racks the balls and Rafe makes a crude gesture with his pool stick and a strange block he has in his other hand.
“It’s chalk,” he says.
I must have been frowning at him, but he can’t blame me, he looked like a fucking pervert.
“I’m going to marry Charlotte.” I pinch my lips together. That inside thought should not have escaped.
Four heads slowly turn my way. Great. I’m seeing double so I close my left eye. That’s better.
Rafe laughs out loud while Boone chuckles at the pool table.
“What’s so funny about that?” Irritation bubbles up more violently than normal.
“Nothing except the panic that showed on her face when Rafe told the nurse she was your fiancée at the hospital.” Boone, I decide, is an asshole.
“Why would she panic? I love her.”
Their expressions change but because there’s four of them, I can’t begin to decipher what’s happening, and it’s too much work to keep one eye closed.
“You…you what?”
A smile blooms on my face so fast my cheeks hurt as I spin toward the sound of Lottie’s voice, and nearly fall headfirst onto the floor but somehow manage to remain seated. Smooth, Thane. Real smooth.
“You’re here.”
“And you’re drunk.”
I point two fingers at the pool table. “It’s their fault. They were having girl time talking about Boone’s family problems?—”
“Hey, not cool, man. Bro code and shit.” Boone drops his cue stick onto the table and crosses his arms.
“I’ve never had a bro code.” I think I’m enjoying bro code, but I can’t stop staring at Lottie’s pretty face.
“Sharky’s waiting outside for you,” she says.
Boone takes off toward the front door.
“I don’t like to drink,” I tell her.
She steps forward until she’s standing between my legs.
“What did they do, hold you down and force-feed it to you?” She has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen.
“Worse.” Did I whisper that? “They talked about their feelings, and I had to numb the pain.”
Her laughter draws the attention of a nearby couple. I scowl at them for looking at my girl.
“You’re really pretty.”
She laughs again, shaking her head.
“Can you walk, or does Rafe have to help me carry you out of here?”
“Pfft. Pfft,” I say again because I like how it tickles my lips. “I can walk fine.”
She doesn’t believe me. “You sure about that? You’ve already almost been blown up. The last thing I want to tell Kara is that you fell and hit your head again.”
The mention of my sister sits like a lead weight in my chest.
“I’m drunk.”
“I already said that.”
“I don’t want Kara to see me like this.”
“You’re not your dad. Adults are allowed to drink.”
I shake my head, trying to clear the alcohol from my brain. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t want her to see me like this.”
She stares into my eyes, then nods. “Okay. Let’s get Rafe home, and I’ll take you to get some coffee and sober you up a bit.”
“You’re going to take care of me?”
“Seems only fair, doesn’t it?”
“Why’s that?”
She tries to step back, but I squeeze my thighs to hold her still.
“All you’ve done is try to take care of me since the moment you bulldozed your way into my life. If you’re going to marry me someday, then I guess I should start pulling my weight around here.”
“That’s a great answer, fiancée.”
She tugs on my hand to help me stand. “Easy there, big guy. There’s no fiancée yet. That’s something we work up to.”
So says her. I’ve already designed the perfect ring in my mind. Now I simply need a trusted jeweler to create perfection.