Chapter 20 Jeremy #2
Sadie Hart Barlowe, gold-flecked brown eyes and long blonde hair, sits cross-legged on the floor with a corgi napping against her thigh.
Iris Dixon, Skylark’s former interim mayor, occupies the armchair, her legs crossed and her dark gaze locked on me, like the verdict’s still out as to whether I’m worth the trouble.
Taylor Maxwell’s tall and willowy frame is folded onto one end of the couch, and Molly McAllister anchors the other end, red hair pulled back, green eyes bright with an energy that reads as both friendly and intimidating.
Piper Hart rounds out the lineup from a leather recliner, one hand resting on her pregnant belly.
Five women. No Avah.
“Sit down, Jeremy.” Iris gestures to a vacant dining chair that’s been pulled into the room and positioned in the center.
I cross my arms. “I think I’ll stand.”
“Please sit.” Molly’s voice carries the quiet authority of a woman who deftly balances managing a successful business with raising eight-year-old twins and a fiancé who used to ride bulls for a living. I understand it’s not a request.
And I sit because five-on-one odds aren’t stacked in my favor.
“We’d like to discuss your intentions toward Avah.” Sadie employs the calm tone of someone used to handling nervous animals. Given the way my pulse is hammering, that tracks.
“My intentions?”
“Toward Avah,” Piper repeats. “What are they? That’s the question.”
“I’d like to take a pass on answering.”
Iris leans forward. “No passes given.”
“Does Avah know about this?”
“We’re the ones asking questions.” Taylor’s voice is softer than the rest, but still firm.
I look at Sloane, who appears to be waiting for someone to hand her a bag of popcorn so she can really enjoy the show. Traitor.
“Avah and I have a professional arrangement. I helped her out of a difficult situation in Bora Bora, and she’s assisting me with a business opportunity. Her marketing background is an asset to the partnership negotiations.”
“And this arrangement involves weekend sleepovers?” Molly props her chin on her fist. “We might need to discuss how you define professional.”
My neck gets hot. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I run early on Saturday mornings.” Iris unfolds and re-crosses her legs. “Your Range Rover was parked behind the bakery at five a.m. It doesn’t exactly blend in.”
“My vehicle’s location is none of your bus—”
“Oh, please.” Piper waves a hand. “Schtoinking our friend makes it our business.”
Christ, these women operate like a covert intelligence agency with better snacks. I rub the back of my neck and glare at no one in particular, but don’t deny the schtoinking bit. “Avah and I are friends.”
Which is like calling the Pacific Ocean a swimming pool, but what else am I supposed to say?
“Avah’s been through a lot.” Sadie gives the corgi an absent scratch behind the ears. “She might pretend to be made of Teflon, but there’s a soft side underneath her armor. If she’s letting you in, that matters.”
“I know it matters,” I nearly shout in response. In a less unhinged tone, I add, “She matters.”
Molly’s eyes narrow slightly. “So, what are your intentions?”
I’m not going to get out of here without answering that question.
Fine. I let my gaze move to each of the book club members as I drag in a steadying breath.
“I know what she’s been through. Not all of it, but enough to know that if she’d let me, I’d destroy the men who hurt her and not lose a minute of sleep. ”
I scrub a hand over my jaw. “But she also doesn’t need me to slay her dragons.
I want her to see herself the way you all do.
The way I do. She’s funnier than she thinks she is, braver than she gives herself credit for, and has spent so long convincing everyone she’s fine, she’s forgotten that it’s okay not to be.
I get who she is underneath the armor, and if you think I’d do anything to hurt her—”
I pause, wondering if I’ve said enough or possibly too much, but these women keep watching me. Beast has wandered in from the hallway and is sitting at my feet, staring up at me. Even the dog is waiting.
“I would rather give up every dollar I’ve made than be the reason she puts that armor back on.”
Nobody speaks for a long three seconds. Then Piper swipes a hand across her cheek. “Fucking pregnancy hormones.”
“They’ll get you every time,” Molly murmurs, but the wariness in her expression has gentled to something that looks almost like approval.
Sloane catches my eye across the room, and the pride on her face threatens to undo me entirely. I stand and clear my throat.
“Are we done?”
“We’re done.” Sadie rises with a smile that’s genuinely warm. “For now. Unless you want a glass of iced tea?”
“Thanks.” I shake my head. “But I think I’ll escape while I can.”
Sloane jubilantly gives the group her oncology update, and after a round of hugs for her and awkward smiles directed at me, we walk back down the hallway and out the front door. A breeze whips up, rippling against the shirt that’s plastered to my back with nervous sweat.
Ian stands in the driveway, sanding down what looks like a set of agility ramps. He glances up as the door closes behind us.
“You survived.”
“With fewer layers of skin than I had going in.”
“Fair enough.” He grins. “If you’re sticking around, come to poker night. A bunch of the guys get together a couple times a month.”
“The Book Club Bros,” Sloane supplies.
“We don’t have a name.” Ian points the sanding block at her. “And if we did, it would be the Buff Bros.”
“Keep telling yourselves that,” my sister answers with a snort.
Ian turns back to me. “Anyway. You’re welcome anytime.”
“I appreciate the offer,” I say, grabbing the keys from my pocket. “Not sure what my plans look like long term.”
“Open invitation.” Ian picks up Beast when he trots out of the garage. The animal stares at me with those beady eyes like the book club might be done with me, but he’s just getting started. “No pressure.”
We pull out of the driveway in silence. The afternoon sun bathes the mountains that anchor this town in golden light.
I should be irritated about the ambush, but instead, I keep thinking about the way the book club closed ranks around Avah.
A woman who insists she doesn’t need anyone has a circle of friends who would go to war for her without hesitation.
“So,” Sloane says, turning to me with a brilliant smile. “That wasn’t so bad.”
“Being interrogated by five women and a dog? It was not awesome.”
“You did good.” She adjusts her visor against the sun. “Better than I expected, honestly.”
“My relationship with Avah is nobody’s business. You also know she’ll kill every one of you if she finds out about this little interrogation.”
Sloane considers this. “I’m not afraid of Avah.” A beat. “Okay, maybe a little. Mostly, I want her to be happy.” Her gaze is steady on me. “I hope you’re part of that.”
I don’t answer right away. I’m too busy thinking about what I said in that living room.
I might have been pitting out through my shirt, but I don’t regret a word of it.
Every syllable was true. Those feelings scare the shit out of me, but that doesn’t make them any less valid.
And the thought of a future with Avah settles in my chest like it belongs there.
“You should give Skylark a real chance,” Sloane says as we turn onto the main road. “I’d like having you around on a more permanent basis.”
I feel my brows hit my hairline. “You would?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“What happened to my mother-hen routine annoying the crap out of you?”
“I like you despite how much you annoy me.” She reaches over and dials the climate control to a warmer setting. “You’re my person. We’re family.”
“Always,” I confirm.
I nearly lost my sister twice. Once to my own stubborn absence and once to the disease that tried to steal her. But we’re still here, and we’re stronger for what we’ve gone through together.
I meant what I said about not wanting to be the reason Avah puts her armor back on. But what I didn’t say—what I’m only now letting myself process—is that I want to be the reason she doesn’t need it at all.
I want crossword puzzle mornings and nights on the couch, curled up together. I want to hear her sing god-awfully off-key when she thinks nobody’s listening. Friendship is part of it, but that doesn’t even come close to everything I want from Avah.
Things I’ve spent my entire adult life making sure I’d never be stupid enough to want.
But it’s different with her. I’m different. Less like a man hiding behind dollar signs and spreadsheets and more like someone who could be happy in a town where people leave their garage doors open and wave at strangers.
A year ago, I would have given a swift middle finger to the idea of that kind of future. Now, as I signal for the turn toward downtown and the sun catches the peaks in the rearview mirror, the whisper of possibility makes me want to rise up and hold on with everything I’ve got.