Chapter 5
May
[Stone]
“What’s up, man?” My brother, Clay, only fifteen months younger than me, claps me on the back as he rounds my seat and takes his own at the table inside Milton Roadhouse.
The bar has an old-time saloon vibe with dark, wood-paneled walls and wagon-wheel chandeliers.
The three-sided bar has a large standing-room-only space surrounded by a smattering of tables, which are a mix of low barrels with circular surfaces and high tops.
My brothers and I try to get together at least once a month, just the guys. No offense to our one and only youngest sister, Vale, but men have guy things to share. And lately, my brothers are fixated on their love lives.
In the past two plus years, Sebastian stumbled into Enya.
Ford met her sister, Cadence. Knox reunited with his high school sweetheart, Halle.
Clay was rescued by Mavis. Only Judd and I remain standing, although we aren’t exactly certain what’s going on with our reclusive brother and the woman he’s suddenly claiming as his fiancée.
Honestly, compared to that last man standing cliché, I’d like to take a seat. Preferably back at a bar in Tennessee next to one mystery woman I call Delilah in my head.
“Hey,” I grunt as Clay takes a seat beside me.
While I’m still dark in features, Clay has more gray with scruff on his face that matches the color of his short hair.
His skin is weathered from years of outdoor work for our family business, Sylver Seed & Soil.
The place was our mother’s dream, and after her death, and our father subsequently running it into the ground, Clay rebuilt the business.
Eventually, we roped Judd into being the chief accountant for the business in an effort to keep our quietest brother close.
Judd’s the one we most feared might slip between the cracks after the way our father treated him.
Knox also works at the Seed & Soil in the landscaping department, specifically in brick patio builds.
He also volunteers for the fire department.
Knox is built like me, more broad than tall, compared to Judd or Clay.
We share the same dark features, but my brother is starting to gray near his temples.
He joins us next.
“Gentleman of the Round Table,” he teases about the low top I’d snagged.
Milton’s isn’t particularly busy for a mid-week evening, yet all the high tops were taken.
He claps hands with Clay. The two of them have grown closer since his retirement from the Navy.
Plus, Mavis and Halle have formed a special friendship.
“I need a beer,” Sebastian huffs, falling into a chair, which slides from the force and bangs into Knox.
“You don’t drink,” I remind him, arching a brow, wondering what would prompt him to say he needs what he’s given up for good.
“I know.” He scrubs both hands down his face, tattoos on display, reminding me of how my brother has had a tough life until recently.
“It’s just . . . the estrogen is so high in my house.” He grunts, but then slowly smiles. His wife Enya is good for him, and along with their daughter Adara and their newest addition, Annabelle, he’s surrounded by love he greatly deserves.
“Don’t I know it,” Knox speaks next, bumping his elbow against Sebastian, who sits too close to him. “Violet is still giving Halle a run for her money most days.”
Knox’s stepdaughter had trouble adjusting to life in Sterling Falls when she first moved here. She’s turned herself around, also working at the Seed & Soil and babysitting for anyone in the family who needs one. She’s a good kid, but on the cusp of going off to college.
“She’s so like her mother.” Knox slowly smiles as well, shaking his head. He dated Halle when she was seventeen, so his seventeen-year-old stepdaughter brings back memories.
“How’s Dutton?” Sebastian asks Clay. His son likes to wear pink and paint his nails.
“He’s good,” Clay adds, his own smile joining the rest of them. “He’s slowly growing into a Swiftie.” Clay air-quotes the term used for a certain cultural icon in pop music and her enormous fandom.
“Speaking of Dutton . . . heard Winnie got in another fight at school,” Sebastian informs the table.
Clay shakes his head. “Ford told me.”
Our brother Ford’s daughter, Winnie, is best friends with Dutton, acting as his silent bodyguard at school and often in trouble for it.
“Where is Ford?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder, like I expect him to appear. He doesn’t go out as often as the rest of us. His three girls and pregnant wife keep him home, but after a successful career in professional baseball, he’s happy to dedicate more time to his family.
“Cadence has him by the throat.” Knox imitates being choked with his hands.
“You mean the balls.” Sebastian mimics juggling a set in his hands.
“He’s just in love,” Clay drawls.
“Aren’t you all?” I remind them as the sole man at the table not in love but still missing a woman who was never mine to miss.
“You know you could be,” Clay counters. He arches a brow, when he knows Emerson Milton and I are nothing more than friends. The entire town thinks we are more, but we aren’t.
“There’s always Mabel Wilson,” Knox teases.
I wrinkle my nose. Mabel Wilson is a sweet older woman who rotates between calling the fire department for false alarms, mainly because she wants to ogle the young men in uniform, and calling the sheriff department for some minor infractions like sheep in her front yard or a whispering noise in her attic, again only to invite one of my deputies into her house for cookies and tea.
My last interaction with Mabel, she mistakenly offered me dog biscuits as her homemade specialty. I send younger deputies whenever the department gets a call, warning them in advance not to accept any baked goods from her. My newest recruit learned to heed my warning the hard way.
Sebastian snorts at the reference to Mabel, while Knox leans into him, like they share the joke. Sebastian bumps Knox back with his shoulder, nudging him to get off him.
The scene is so reminiscent of when they were kids. The kids I raised.
I sigh.
Clay goes next with his suggestions. “What about Halle’s friend, Cookie Westmore? You already know she has a thing for handcuffs.”
Sebastian and Knox roar into another round of laughter at my expense.
Cookie had a little mishap a couple of months ago. The single mother was attached to a bedpost when we got the call from one of her teenage children. Seems a little bedroom fun got out of hand and a one-night stand took the key with him.
“What about someone from Vale’s book club?” Sebastian air-quotes around the club that’s so much more than books to the women in this town, and might be where Cookie got those pink, feather-edged handcuffs in the first place.
“Pass.” Not that there is anything wrong with any woman who is a member of the not-so-secret Sterlets, but I’ve grown up in this town, and I’ve seen too many things behind the scenes to be attracted to anyone local.
My mind is still set on someone who landed in Knoxville. And mysteriously disappeared into thin air the next morning.
I thought for certain I’d see her again. Maybe in the hotel lobby where they served breakfast. Even somewhere local. The city was a decent size, but as happenstance reunited us once, I bet on it bringing us together again a second time.
I’d been wrong. And I’ve been kicking myself that I didn’t pursue something more that night.
Then again, I didn’t want a one-night stand with her. Something about her said she’s a woman you get to know on a deeper level, so you have all your nights with her. Which is silly because I’m not that kind of guy. The forever kind. I want to be, but I’m not.
I thought I was in love once, but it turned out not to be love after all.
Back then, I had siblings to raise and a house to keep, so I never made love a priority. At least not love between me and a partner. An equal who’d share things with me. A companion for summer nights and a confidante for the stormy ones.
“There’s also Veronica Archer.” But even Knox doesn’t sound convincing when mentioning another single mother whose daughter plays on Hudson’s travel baseball team.
Ronnie is a widow, and while I’m sympathetic to her loss, she has a penchant for married men in the area. I’m too single for her liking.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find you someone,” Clay says, reaching out and squeezing my shoulder. While I know he’s teasing, and he’s also well-meaning, I don’t like the reminder that I’m alone. And that I haven’t found someone for myself.
So, I blurt before I think, “I already found someone.”
Brows lift. Eyes widen. Mouths gape.
“Emerson?” Knox draws out her name, shock lacing every syllable.
I’ve been rather open with my family recently that Emerson Milton, who is the town mayor, and I were never a thing. People have their perception of our relationship. We knew the truth. Or rather, I protected Em and her secret.
But since coming back from Tennessee, I’ve been more resistant to accept invitations from my friend. More reluctant to play a part in her story.
I shake my head, looking down at the rough wood on the tabletop.
“Who then?” Sebastian asks, leaning forward. His tone is serious, concerned even.
“Yes, do tell.” Knox drops his voice while setting his elbows on the table and folding his hands beneath his chin, acting like an eager busybody wanting the latest gossip.
“No one you know,” I state. Then add, “It was nothing.” The difficult part in that statement was it didn’t feel like nothing.
Even if it was only a kiss, the moment was powerful, and the entire night felt a bit .
. . magical. Which is not a term I’d ever use to describe something that happened to me.
Just as confounding, though, was her disappearing act.
“When?”
“Who?”
“Where?”
The questions fall in line like the ages of my brothers, from oldest to younger: Clay, Knox, Sebastian.
I double-tap the table and blow out a breath, sorry I’ve opened my mouth.
“Just met someone about a month ago. Thought the night was something special and hoped I’d see her again.” I shrug. “But I didn’t.”
“Why not?” Sebastian questions, arching his brow.
“That sucks.” Knox shakes his head.
“Shit.” Clay focuses on me, his eyes soft with understanding.
“What are you going to do?” I state, like it’s a non-issue.
The truth is I’ve spent most of my life reassuring my brothers, and Vale, that they deserve love. That their other half is waiting for them, seeking them out, because I believe there is someone for everyone. Just not for me, apparently.
My life is full while empty at the same time, but it’s not something I’d ever admit to any of them.
I’m the oldest. I’ve always needed to be strong for them. It’s written in my name. Stone.
“Sometimes things just happen,” I use as a way of excuse for why it didn’t happen for me and my mystery woman.
“Like a woman falls outside a bakery in a storm,” Sebastian states, eyeing me while reminding me how he met Enya.
“Or returns to her hometown,” Knox adds, a nod to his own story.
“Or she rescues you in the rain.” Clay’s story mirrors Sebastian’s in that a rainstorm brought him Mavis, only he’s the one whose truck broke down. She saved him.
“Yeah, well . . .” I really have nothing to add to their initial meetings with their soulmates.
A woman ran into me in a hotel hallway, rammed me with a book, then I knocked her jaw with my head. Not exactly a meet cute. Vale has explained that’s how all romances begin.
We didn’t have a romance. We didn’t even have a fling.
We had one kiss.
An encounter that still haunts me.
Clay reaches over to squeeze my shoulder again, and I’m grateful when Emerson’s youngest sister, Eleanor, arrives at our table to take our order and pull the spotlight off me.
I’m better at letting them talk while I listen.
That’s what I always do.