Chapter 17 #2
“I love you so much for coming to check on me, and I will talk to you both, I promise,” I say. “But could you go inside with Vivian for a minute, please? I need to handle something first.”
“But,” Mama Tish begins to protest.
“This is my boundary. I will talk when I’m ready,” I tell her gently.
She sucks in a breath and looks disappointed but nods firmly and takes Mama Laine’s arm. “Okay, sweetie.”
I’m already low-key exhausted when I turn to Alan Nelson, who’s been watching this entire circus with barely concealed irritation. Erick stands behind him, darting his eyes toward the trees like he’s considering making a run for it.
“Griffin, my son has something to say, and we thought it best to say it in person.” Alan nudges Erick forward, none too gently. “Don’t you, Erick?”
Erick’s model-beautiful face turns red, and he lifts his eyes to mine. “I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “It was me who changed the text on the Rise campaign billboard. I figure you already knew that, but I wanted you to know that I… I admitted everything to my father and to Bill Tiden.”
I press a hand to my sternum and lean into Beckett. “Oh, god.” I never imagined he’d admit it. “But… why? Did you hate me that much, Erick?”
Erick shakes his head forcefully. “No. No way. You were amazing to work with, Griffin. You gave me a chance to prove myself, and you taught me so much. I just…” He squeezes his eyes shut.
“I hated working for Bill. I hate Rise. I hate his stupid ‘family values’ bullshit. I never wanted us to take them on as a client, but Dad wouldn’t listen—”
“Jesus, Erick,” Alan scoffs. “Business is business.”
Erick sets his jaw. “I didn’t think it through,” he continues. “I wanted Rise to fire us. The Nelson Group. So we wouldn’t be associated with them anymore. I didn’t want you to get blamed. But then when everything happened… I panicked. And I fucked up—”
“Yes, you did,” Alan snaps.
Fuck. I’m looking at Erick when it all clicks into place.
He went about it the absolute wrong way, but Erick Nelson had more integrity than I did.
Why had I been spending my life working on campaigns for brands I didn’t believe in, for people I didn’t like?
Was that really the brilliant life I’d envisioned for myself?
Standing in this forest, with this man at my side, my life in New York feels like the palest imitation of happiness. The most hollow definition of success.
Carlos, who’s been coiling up crane cables, suddenly speaks up. “Alright, enough. He said he was sorry.” He steps closer to Erick and gives Alan a glare that rivals Beckett’s glower.
Erick glances at Carlos curiously, and a faint blush creeps up his neck.
“I, ah…” Erick clears his throat. “I want you to know, I resigned from the Nelson Group. I’m going to find a job in education. I’ve always wanted to be a preschool teacher, believe it or not—”
“It’s a phase,” Alan says dismissively. “Which you’ll regret. Thriving family businesses don’t come around twice.”
Carlos grins fiercely. “Yeah, well, I say that’s kick-ass! My sister-in-law’s a preschool teacher. Those guys are heroes!”
Erick’s smile is small but genuine. Beckett and I exchange a look, and Beckett shrugs with what might be amusement.
Alan clears his throat impatiently. “The Nelson Group would like to offer you your old job back, Griffin. With a five percent raise. Obviously, we’ll also make a public statement declaring you blameless regarding the billboard incident. You can start back Monday.”
Monday.
The air goes still. Even the breeze seems to pause. I don’t think Beckett’s breathing anymore, and for a second, I’m not either.
Then everything falls into place again.
Into its right place.
And suddenly, I can see exactly where I’m going.
I know exactly what I want.
“I can’t,” I say slowly. “I have—” I gesture toward the treehouse, toward the life I’m building in Winsome. “I have things here.”
Alan looks around the woods skeptically, probably the same way I looked at this place when I first arrived. But now, his dismissive expression pisses me off.
“Your choice,” Alan says, narrowing his eyes. “If this is a negotiation tactic, just know this is my only and final offer. I’ll see you Monday. Come on, Erick.”
“No,” Erick says. When Alan turns to him with a frown, Erick says, “The car ride here was miserable. I’ll find my own way home.”
Alan huffs and stalks off to his car, slamming the door harder than necessary. Then he speeds off in a cloud of gravel.
I’m vaguely aware of Carlos offering Erick a ride to town, but honestly, I don’t care. All I need and want at that moment is to talk to Beckett.
Just Beckett.
But when I turn toward him, I find him looking down at his phone with a frown.
“Hey,” I say. “Fuck, I’m so sorry about all this. Is everything okay?”
He starts to answer when another fucking car, this one with New Jersey plates, comes rolling up my driveway and parks behind Derek’s abandoned BMW.
“What the actual hell?” I mutter, running a hand through my hair and not even caring that I probably look like a mad scientist. I didn’t think I knew this many people, and suddenly, they’re all fucking here, right where I don’t want them.
A pleasant-looking woman in her fifties steps out of the modest sedan and greets me with a smile. “Hi, there. I’m looking for Griffin Mercer.”
“You found him,” I say shortly. “But—”
“I’m Jim Grange’s attorney,” she continues. “I heard you had questions about your trust.”
Shit. I turn to Beckett, mostly to see his reaction, but he’s staring down at his phone again.
“Ames,” he tells me. “He needs my help and says it’s urgent.” He looks at the attorney, and then at me. “I don’t want to leave you to deal with all this, but…”
I don’t want him to leave either, but I can’t ask him to stay when his family needs him. “Go,” I say. “Talk later?”
Beckett huffs out a laugh and rubs the back of his neck. “Definitely, baby. We, ah… we have a lot to talk about, don’t we?”
He kisses my forehead quickly and rushes off to his truck, leaving me standing in the driveway.
As I watch him drive away, I wish we’d just fled to the damn rope bridge earlier after all. I don’t like the forced quality of his smile, and all I want is to have a moment alone with him to make sure we’re on the same page.
Does he think Alan showing up here and offering me my job changes things?
Fuck, maybe he does. Maybe things weren’t as settled as I’d thought they were.
“Mr. Mercer?” the attorney prompts gently. “I think you’re really going to want to hear what I have to say.”
“I do. I want to hear all about my inheritance. About what happened to Jim. But…” I sigh. “I have kind of a lot going on right now.”
And I’m drawing another boundary because enough is enough.
We make a plan to meet early the following morning at the Abigail, where she’s staying. Then I head inside the treehouse to find my mothers and Vivian drinking coffee and eating apple cake.
All of them look at me with varying degrees of concern and curiosity. I know they want to hear every single thing that’s going on with me, to make sure I’m okay, and I love that. I do.
But all I want is to chase after Beckett. To show him that I’m all in on Winsome. On him. On this… this thing that we’re building together.
When Vivian says, “Griffin, sweetheart, I was just telling your mothers they picked the best time to come! We’re all going to see you give your presentation on tourism at Hello, Winsome tonight!” I want to groan.
I’d forgotten all about the damn presentation. And does it even matter anymore? Beckett can have the easement. Hell, I want Beckett to have everything.
But then an idea hits me—a way I can make my intentions absolutely clear, not just to Beckett but to everyone in town. Something that will show them exactly who Griffin Mercer is… and what he wants his life to look like.