Chapter 23
Twenty-Three
Chip raised the beer in his hand high in the air and stumbled back just as a child from the party crashed through the huddle he had going with Blaine, Dean, and Gordon at the barbecue.
“So much for a quiet family thing.” Dean fixed his attention on Chip with a shrug. “You should start worrying this event is less about welcoming you back and more about convincing you to stay.”
Dean’s suggestion had Chip slipping his gaze to Ally seated with her mother and sister, his heart shifting as she waved. He waved back and forced an easy smile, the other guys figuring it would be funny to do the same.
Their chuckles surrounded him, as his thoughts clung to how less complicated life was around here. These people, his first home and community, so quick to welcome him back like a much-loved family member. The pace was slower with less pressure to tie himself into knots trying to impress.
“If that’s the plan, I’m sure to sorely disappoint everyone.” He snapped his focus back to Dean and took a quick swig of his beer. “I have too much to return to in Boston.”
That much was true. He did have things to achieve and a skillset and career that needed exploring. He would never be happy without seeing that part of his life through. But then Ally—the woman he fast envisioned his future with—well, she lived here in Harlow and perhaps always would.
“You mean, like that grant everyone keeps talking about?” Blaine pointed his bottle at Chip before retracting it. “I hear you’ll be outta here in about nine days, ready to collect your prize.”
Chip’s quick chuckle faded to a silent frown. Everyone’s talking about this grant. Maybe the pressure to impress wasn’t so removed from Harlow after all, although the people here would likely give him less flack if he failed to win.
His father’s voice whispered in his ear, “ Mediocrity is not an option. You have to be flawless.” Physically. Intellectually. Professionally. But right now, Stonewall had flaws. The security components weren’t fully stable yet, and being a security program, that was a huge deal.
But Encode doesn’t expect a finished product.
But if Stonewall was imperfect, then so was Chip, and imperfection opened him to failure and scrutiny soon after.
He took another sip of his beer, his focus pinned to the meat sizzling on the grill ahead. As much as he rebelled against his dad’s thinking, his fear of failure was so ingrained that incessant doubts left Chip something to prove. To himself. To his father. As though proving himself would heal him or set him free.
Perhaps financially, but not in the ways I’d like.
“It’s nice not to be the one cooking for a change.” Gordon nodded to the grill Chip stared at, as if the man assumed Chip’s line of sight meant he’d been thinking about food.
“Here’s hoping Ally’s dad can level up to a Gordon O’Dwyer steak.” Blaine gave Gordon a friendly slap on the back. “Otherwise, you and the rest of us might be heading back to Maynard’s for a meal after all.”
“I think I’m morally obliged to stay.” Chip shrugged and gave a mock sigh. “But Sarah tells me Gordon’s pies net Maynard’s a healthy stream of positive online reviews, so save one for me if things don’t work out here.”
“Uff-dah.” Gordon gave a light-hearted chuckle and nudged Chip with an elbow, his pale cheeks sporting a distinct flush. “Thanks for giving me a reason to hit Sarah up for a pay raise, but I’m sure Mr. Egan is more than passable on the grill. I’m also sure he, like the rest of us, is just glad to see Ally Egan happy for a change.”
Chip took a few moments to stare down at his beer bottle, pretending the red and white label held far more interest than it actually did. “For now, anyway.”
“I don’t know, Chip.” This time Blaine spoke, the jovial spark in his green eyes expressing hopefulness. “You’ve brought a new spark to her eye. Maybe you’ll both figure out a way to make things work.”
Though Chip opened his mouth to express his doubts, Gordon cut in first. “Not as though we haven’t seen more unlikely couples end up together.”
He, Blaine, and then Dean gave a unified and knowing nod.
“Oh, yeah?” Never one to admit defeat, Chip jutted his chin in Gordon’s direction. “And what about you? Have you ended up with anyone lately?”
“Ha!” Dean threw his head back before returning his focus to the group. “The man’s caught in a perpetual loop of hiding in Maynard’s kitchen or sleeping off a late shift. I’d be surprised if any woman here even remembers what he looks like.”
“Hey!” Gordon sent Dean a mock glare. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”
A flurry of activity exploded from Ally’s general direction, and Dean’s chance to reply died.
Chip twisted around to see Ally’s mother hurrying toward the back porch, her hand pressed over her cheek in a gesture of despair. Laila ran close behind, her daughter Whitney, joining the train of Egan women disappearing into the house.
All but Ally. She sat alone on her outdoor chair, her fingers clawing into the wooden armrests, her wide and baffled gaze flicking over the crowd of visitors before stopping dead on him.
His first instinct was to race over there, but in his momentary shock, Aggie, Maureen, Emilia, and Sheriff Marlin got to her first. All those people.
All far more reliable than he could be. Maybe he had no place in that huddle. Maybe it was unfair to establish himself as a source of comfort in her life. Aggie turned to him, her gaze sage in color and in character, a slight tilt of her head commanding him to gather some courage and come on over.
So, he did. He excused himself from the guys. He crossed the lawn. And the gathering around Ally parted through some unspoken pact to have him be the one to soothe her.
She lifted her watery gaze to him, and a silent beat passed before she rose. Instinct took over, and he wrapped her in his arms, dropping a kiss to her forehead and only disconnecting enough to ask, “Are you okay?”
She slid back and nodded, her throat bobbing in denial of whatever ease her nod conveyed. “I only half-know what just happened.”
She peered over her shoulder to the house, to where her mother had disappeared, the space between Ally’s brow now indented with shallow wrinkles.
His pulse climbed, and his mouth dried at the unspoken things she half-knew about her mother’s sudden exit, and the pure anguish of not knowing had him capturing Ally’s chin and turning her back to him. “Are we okay?”
Her expanding pupils paired with a non-reply, his question seeming to hit a pertinent dilemma while her unsteady nod once more failed to convince.
All signs of chatter and joy left the people around him, and the burn of their stares seared into his skin. He didn’t want to ask her to follow him wherever his career took him. Harlow was her home. She’d said that herself. She’d said that she couldn’t leave the people she loved. This gathering alone attested to the value they added to her life. A value he’d experienced for himself, where his own family fell short. A value he could never hope to replace. Besides, just asking would be too close to a commitment—a commitment he wasn’t sure either one was ready to make. Still, anguish surged into desperation and his once-reliable logic fled.
“Come to Boston with me.”
He clenched his jaw shut, and his insides shifted at his impulsive and completely selfish invitation. Probably the last thing she needed right now. Probably the last thing he needed, too. What about his plans to establish his career ahead of anything personal? And what if she wouldn’t follow him? Would he ever stay here?
That he even posed that question meant that something had just changed, but he didn’t want to analyze what. So, he scrambled to put things right, by adding, “Not to stay. Just a visit to decide what you think of the place. You know, a chance to see somewhere outside of Minnesota?”
Crapola. Her mouth wavered open and closed, but she said nothing, his reasoning not much stronger than his initial invite. Not that he could retract anything now. Heck, did he even want to?
A few creaks escaped her lips all while a new rush of thoughts conspired to convince him that having her accept his offer was suddenly critical.
But the background screech of hinges left Ally’s attention pinned to the house, where her mom and sister soon came strolling out the backdoor. Laila’s hand rested on her mother’s shoulder, and Velma’s chin tilted down, half-obscuring a sheepish smile.
Her cheeks held a red glow, but she extended a small wave to her guests. “Don’t mind me, everyone. Just having a moment.”
Her trudging steps took her across the lawn to her seat, and she gave a wobbly laugh, winking at Ally, which drew a few, relieved chuckles from the engrossed crowd.
Renewed conversations broke around, but the lighter shift in mood couldn’t be applied to him and Ally.
He reached out and pulled her into him, admitting through embrace that their problems had no clear solution. That maybe he’d been wrong to ask for anything more than what they currently shared.
And still, he couldn’t keep from asking because asking was, by far, less excruciating than having to leave her behind.