Chapter Thirteen #2
On the next page is a sketch of the same area from a different angle.
Rolling waves kissing the beach where we walked hand in hand Saturday night.
I can still hear Ellie’s laughter, feel her hand in mine, and see those gorgeous long lashes sweeping over her cheeks as she looked from the water to me.
My chest feels heavy again, but I linger on that drawing, memories pushing to the forefront, bringing the glimmer of the moon reflecting in the hazel eyes that have haunted me for three days.
I’ll never forget the way she looked at me as our bodies came together or the way I couldn’t look away from her. I’ve been with plenty of women, but I can’t recall what any of them looked like in what should have been intimate moments, while every moment felt intimate and unforgettable with Ellie.
I brush my thumb over the edge of the paper, wishing I could step inside the page and go back to the moment before everything unraveled.
My phone rings, startling me. The screen lights up with a video call from all four of my siblings.
Great. Just what I need right now. I set the sketchbook on my desk and swipe to answer the call in case there’s a crisis.
Their smiling faces fill the screen. Clearly there’s no crisis. Why do they look so damn happy?
“There he is, the midnight runner,” Victory says. She’s in her office, her long dark hair trailing over the shoulders of her crisp white blouse.
I cock a brow. “You do realize I’m working?”
“On a Wednesday?” Clay says. “Tragic.” He’s outside, his short brown hair covered by a knit cap, his shoulders rounded forward against the cold.
“Some of us still have careers that involve actual effort,” I shoot back, even though I have nothing but respect for him.
Clay was a superstar in a grueling career that I know I could never hack, and he’s done good things with his celebrity status.
He gives back in big ways, running two foundations and a scholarship fund.
“And yet you sound grumpy.” Flynn rakes a hand through his longish sandy hair. “Work is usually your happy place. Maybe you need a vacation.”
“I just took one,” I say tightly.
“Yeah, we heard,” Noah cuts in, his voice full of mischief.
Like Flynn, Noah takes after our mother, with fairer hair, only he wears his longer on top and shorter on the sides.
“I talked to Missick yesterday. He mentioned that you brought over a beautiful woman. Said you were smiling like a man who’d finally come home. ”
“Missick, man, he’s poetic,” Clay says.
I deadpan, “He’s also dramatic.”
“What’s the deal with this beautiful woman?” Victory asks, leaning closer to the phone, as if I’m about to share my secrets.
If I were going to share secrets with any of them, it would probably be her. But I’m not.
“Spill it, bro,” Noah adds.
“There’s nothing to spill. I went to the island for some R&R, and Taylor’s sister was there. We hung out.” The lie tastes acrid.
“That doesn’t sound like nothing,” Noah says. “A beautiful woman. I’m guessing she wore a bikini, the two of you lounging in the sun. We know what that tropical heat can lead to.”
“Can you cut the shit?” I bark.
“Aw, did she get under Sethy’s skin?” Clay teases.
Noah laughs. “No way. The guy’s an armadillo. Nothing gets under that armor.”
“That’s what I thought, too.” Flynn eyes me and says, “But when the right woman gets under your skin, there’s no getting her out.”
I grit my teeth and then lie through them. “I wouldn’t know.”
Victory gives me a slightly concerned, knowing look, like she can read every thought I’m trying not to have, but she won’t out me to the others. Thank fucking God.
“So, does Taylor’s sister have a name?” Clay asks.
“Let it go,” I warn.
“How can we?” Noah asks with a big-ass grin. “You never bring women anywhere. This is big news.”
“We should do a Discovery Hour special about it,” Flynn exclaims. “The Elusive Seth Braden: Rarely Seen, Never Documented, Spotted in the Wild with an Actual Woman.”
Clay snorts. “You’ll have to bait him with a merger or a conference call just to get usable footage.”
“You can film in his natural habitat, behind a desk, surrounded by spreadsheets, grunting out executive lingo,” Noah says, making them all crack up.
“Wait! I’ve got the sequel,” Flynn announces. “Seth Braden Buys a Plane: Year Seven of the Expedition.”
“We’ll need a time-lapse camera for that one,” Clay chimes in. “By the time he makes the purchase, aviation will be obsolete.”
“You’re all hilarious,” I say, though a laugh slips out despite myself. They’re always giving me shit about how long I’ve been shopping for a private plane.
“We’re just trying to honor the historic moment,” Flynn says.
“You guys are ridiculous,” Victory chimes in. “Leave him alone.”
“Oh, come on, Vic,” Clay teases. “You know you’re curious.”
“Of course I am,” she says. “But I have manners.”
“Glad at least one of you does,” I say.
“You’re the one who dodged the question, opening the door for us to assume there’s more to the story,” Noah cuts in.
“There was a question?” I ask.
“Yes! Details, dude,” Noah quips. “You’re hiding shit, and we all know it.”
“There are no details,” I say calmly. “She was nice. We had a fun time together. That’s all there is.”
Flynn whistles. “Nice enough to make you forget work, though. Missick said he’s never seen you so relaxed.”
Jesus Christ, Missick. Really? “Missick’s been breathing too much sea air.”
“He doesn’t sound very relaxed right now, and he usually doesn’t get riled up at work. It’s his sanctuary,” Victory points out.
“That’s because I’m on the phone with a bunch of lunatics.”
“Translation,” Clay says with a smirk. “We’re right.”
My eyes narrow. “Translation, I’m hanging up.”
“Wait,” Noah says quickly. “We called for a reason.”
“Obviously. To give me shit.”
My brothers laugh.
“That’s not why we called,” Victory insists. “You scheduled this call last Friday, remember? You said you wanted to talk about Mom’s gallery opening.”
Shit. How could I forget something so important?
I don’t have to look far for that answer.
I was texting with them when I walked into my house in Saint Aurelle and found Ellie standing in my kitchen in that sexy bikini.
No wonder I forgot to have Taylor put the call on my calendar.
I didn’t think of anything but Ellie after that for the whole weekend. I still can’t think of anything else.
“Right. Sorry,” I finally say, and force myself to focus on what needs to be said. “We all know Mom changed her career to take care of us. She never once bitched about it or made us feel like we slowed her down, and that’s a big deal.”
“That was her choice,” Victory says.
“Yes, but that doesn’t diminish the magnitude of what she did,” I say too sharply, then try to rein in my misguided frustration. “I don’t know how any of you would feel about giving up your career to chase a gaggle of kids, but I don’t think I could do it.”
“You can’t even commit to a woman for a week, so we wouldn’t expect you to,” Flynn jokes.
I clench my jaw, because I was ready to commit to Ellie after two fucking days.
My words come back to me. I thought my siblings were out of their minds, falling in love so fast. But I think I’m starting to understand how it happened.
Holy shit. I wasn’t ready to commit. I already had.
Did I scare her off? The thought burns through me, threatening to steal my focus, but my siblings would never let me live that down, so I force my attention back to them.
“As I was saying,” I say curtly. “I know Mom’s not into being in the spotlight, and she and Dad are playing this event off like it’s not a big deal, but it is a big deal.
This is the first time she’s allowed her work to be shown in a gallery, and I think bringing some attention to the event would be a nice way for us to thank her for all those years. ”
Our mother has never had any interest in having her work featured in galleries until recently, when an old friend of our father’s asked if she would allow him to show her work as part of a wildlife exhibit to benefit the Wild Habitat Collective, an organization our family has supported for years.
“But Mom doesn’t want attention,” Clay says.
“Do you think that’s true?” I ask. “Or has she always played second fiddle to Dad and to all of us, and it’s become her comfort zone?”
As they look at one another contemplatively, my mind trips back to Ellie and how she changed her career to care for her father.
I want to pick that apart, but I can’t afford to get lost in her right now, so I push the thoughts down deep and say, “What I have in mind will help bring funds into the Wild Habitat Collective in her honor. And before you say it, yes, we can all give generously, but this is about honoring Mom, and I think it’ll mean more to bring in people she’s worked with over the years who adore and respect her as a person and an artist.”
“I love that idea,” Victory says. “I can talk to Patsy and get the contact info for Mom’s old friends and colleagues she’s worked with over the years.” Patsy was our mother’s assistant for many years, and she’s still one of her closest friends.
“That would be great. Flynn, I was thinking that Sutton could ask Leni to run a PR campaign, get it on mainstream and social media, and ask Andi’s brother Hawk to photograph the event for the family.
Separate from the regular press that’ll be there.
I’ll pay for everything.” Leni Steele is a sought-after PR rep who lives in the city, and Andi Pennington is Sutton’s research assistant.
Her brother Hawk is a renowned photographer.
“I’m sure they’d love to help. Sutton and I will spread the word, too,” Flynn says.
“I’ll tell Dane and Jack and the guys about it, and spread the word through our industries,” Noah offers excitedly.
Our cousin Dane and his brother-in-law, Jack Remington, are two of Noah’s partners at the Real DEAL (Discover, Experience, Appreciate, Learn), a total immersion exploratory park for kids that includes educational exhibits and hands-on activities.
Dane is also the founder of the Brave Foundation, which uses education and innovative advocacy programs to protect sharks, and in a broader sense, the world’s oceans, and Jack Remington is former Special Forces and a survival guide.
Both are well connected to the wildlife industries.
“Pepper and I can help get the word out, too,” Clay says. “And I’m happy to help with logistics and anything else you need.”
“That’d be great,” I say.
“But how about we all split the cost?” Clay suggests.
“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” I say.
“I’d be more comfortable if I came up with the idea,” Clay says. “Damn, bro. You deserve major brownie points for this.”
I cock an arrogant grin and say, “Not everyone can be as thoughtful as me,” earning more ribbing. “All kidding aside, I was hoping we could keep this between us and play it off like we don’t know who organized it or why.”
Victory’s brow furrows. “I thought you wanted to thank her.”
“This is my way of thanking her,” I say. “I don’t need to be acknowledged for it. Do you?”
“No, not really,” she says at the same time Flynn and Noah say, “No.”
“Clay?” I ask, holding his gaze.
“I’m thinking,” Clay says with a grin.
“Dude, really?” Flynn says.
“Fine, but Mom always gives us those hugs that last forever when we do something big.” Clay feigns a pout. “I like those hugs.”
“You’re so needy!” Victory teases, and we all laugh. “Seth, the one downfall to your plan is that we’ll be missing out on a huge resource without Grandma’s and Grandpa’s contacts.”
“I think we can tell Gramps,” Flynn says. “He’s been keeping secrets his entire life. Every potential dig site starts as a secret. Sometimes they stay that way for years.”
We all agree, and then we finish working out the plans.
Before we end the call, Noah says, “Hey, Seth, when are you leaving for Australia?”
“Saturday. T got me a permit to go caving at Kubla Khan and extended my trip.”
“I see the bromance is still going strong despite the fact that you probably bored his sister to death,” Victory teases.
I glower.
“Dude, all kidding aside,” Flynn says with a serious tone, “I’ve been wanting to do a show about Kubla Khan for years. If I’d known you were setting that up, I’d’ve had a team ready.”
“Sorry, man,” I say. “I only found out half an hour ago. I don’t even know how he pulled it off.”
“Kubla Khan is fitting,” Noah says. “It’s deep, dark, and impossible to reach without a special permit, just like Seth!”
As they crack up and make more jokes, I say, “Bye, assholes,” and end the call.
The screen goes dark, and the quiet rushes in, bringing with it every thought I’ve been trying to outrun. They’re wrong about me being impossible to reach. Ellie found a way in, and I fucking welcomed it.
My gaze drifts to the sketchbook, still open to the page with both our beacons of hope.
Fuck it.
I grab my phone and text Taylor before I can talk myself out of it.
Me: Hey, can I get Eleanor’s address? She left her sketchbook in Saint Aurelle, and I’d like to return it.
Three dots dance on the screen like he’s typing. They disappear, and I grit out a curse. Why am I so fucking nervous? I stare at the screen like a damn teenager waiting for a response from the girl I asked to go to the prom. Just as I look away, a chime rings out.
Taylor: Send it to me. I’ll take care of it.
Me: Thanks, but I can handle mailing it.
I know how important her sketchbook is, and I’m not taking any chances with it. Two minutes go by without a response. What the hell is taking him so long?
Finally, a text rolls in with Ellie’s address.
Me: Thanks.
Taylor: No problem. I appreciate you looking out for her while she was there. She said she had a great time.
“Not great enough to stay,” I say, as I thumb out, Glad to hear it.