Chapter 10 #2
He raked his hand through his hair. “Look, bad things just keep happening here. I’ve tried talking to Damian about it. I mean, he’s not breaking any laws or anything, but you all are racking up some serious injuries.”
“I wasn’t injured. I have an ear infection and a virus. It’s just unfortunate that we collided with that RV.” She heard herself deflect and winced.
Irritation sparked in Tate’s eyes. “So you’re just going to keep on doing what you’re doing?”
“I’m working hard and doing my best so I can have better opportunities. I don’t want to be stuck on a soundstage in Studio City for the rest of my career.”
“Is that a possibility?”
“It could happen if I don’t keep pushing myself?—”
“And taking foolish risks.”
Scottie huffed out a breath. “Okay, fine, Mr. Safety Patrol. Let me ask you a question.”
Tate’s brows scrunched together. “What?”
“Isn’t there, I don’t know, something risky you’ve always wanted to try? Maybe something that scares you a little but in a good way?”
He blinked at her as if she’d started speaking a different language. “Scottie, I jump off moving ships for a living. That’s plenty risky, thanks.”
“No, I mean something fun. Like jumping out of a plane. Or bungee jumping off a bridge over a gorgeous canyon.”
Tate made a choking sound. “Absolutely not.”
Wow, okay then. “So no bucket-list adventures?”
“I don’t have a bucket list.” He leaned forward. “Because my goal in life is to literally stay alive.”
She glared. “Are you implying that I don’t want to be alive? Because that’s not what I said.”
He rubbed his hands on his gray cargo pants and looked away.
“You are acting so strange, Tate. I can’t quit. I don’t want to quit. I have to keep doing my job.”
“I understand what you’re saying,” he said quietly. “For as long as I’ve known you, you’ve been the most spontaneous go-getter. That’s why I’ve spent so much time looking out for you, Scottie.”
“Well, that’s good, because nobody else does.”
“That is not true.”
“It is.” She took another sip of her drink. “That’s why I go so hard all the time. I don’t want to depend on anyone. I can’t. My mom died. Lainey’s mom left. My dad can barely take care of himself.”
“Oh boy.” Tate shook his head, then sat back in the chair and rocked. “Lots to unpack there.”
“I know you’re not very happy with Damian right now,” she said, plowing on. “But he is a trustworthy person.”
“But he also puts you in harm’s way.”
“Tate, what is this really about?”
Silence pooled.
“You were not quite yourself when I picked you up after the accident,” Tate said.
Oh no. Her stomach twisted. “What did I do?”
“You were kind of…flirty.”
“Oh.” Mortification rose hot and fast. She gripped the tea tighter. “Did I—did we kiss?”
He shook his head.
She blew out a long breath.
“Don’t look so relieved.”
“Tate, no, that’s not…I didn’t mean—” She reached over and squeezed his forearm. “Forget everything I said when I was loopy.”
“That’s the problem.” He looked down at her hand. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Because now I know.”
Her pulse spiked. “Know what?”
He turned and held her gaze with his own, his expression so earnest it made her chest ache. “You told me that home for you is wherever I am.”
Oh. No. Her stomach plummeted to her toes. “That part was the fever talking for sure.”
Pain flashed across his features. He nodded once. “Right.”
“Tate, I?—”
“I’ve got to go.” He stood quickly. “Big bash at the resort tonight and there’s a lot to do.”
“Thanks for the tea,” she said, watching him bound down the porch steps, then cut long strides to his truck.
Collecting her blanket, she stood and headed back inside.
She found Lainey and Dad right where she’d left them in the kitchen.
Ignoring their curious glances, she set her tea and blanket down.
“When are you going over to the resort? Sounds like Team Maguire’s putting on quite the back-to-school bash. ”
“I’ll pass.” Dad yawned, then stretched. “I’m exhausted. Filling those backpacks was a lot of work.”
“Give me a break,” Lainey groaned, scooping up the empty plate from the treat she’d just served. “We did most of the work.”
“Seriously, Dad?” Scottie collected the empty bins they’d used to keep the school supplies sorted. “You’re just going to sit home alone?”
“Yep, and I’m going to watch a replay of Ultimate Alaskan.”
“No, you don’t need to do that. You already saw it once, and I bet you voted.”
“I voted the maximum times allowed,” he said, boyish pride flashing across his face. “My guy is gonna win.”
“Who are you voting for?” Scottie asked.
He faked a frown. “As if that’s really a question.”
“He’s a big fan of Theo,” Lainey said.
Scottie laughed. “Of course—who isn’t?”
“I don’t know. That Carter Wynne is quite adorable. And super rich,” Lainey said.
“Want me to help you get connected?” Scottie teased playfully. “I’m fairly certain he’s single.”
Lainey sidestepped the question. “I’ve enjoyed watching Elise on the show. I think she’s the underdog, so I’m rooting for her.”
“She’s a fan favorite, I hear.” Scottie finished off her tea.
“Do you have a favorite you’re rooting for, Scottie?” Lainey sprayed the table with cleaner, and Scottie followed behind with a paper towel.
Scottie shook her head. “I can’t pick. They’re all great.”
“Ha,” Lainey said. “Good answer.”
Scottie draped her arm across her father’s shoulders, then pressed her cheek to the top of his head. “Come on, Dad. Come to the resort tonight.”
“I’m really not in the mood for the criticism.”
“No one’s criticizing,” Scottie said quickly, hope flaring in her chest.
“Not you, honey.” He reached up and patted her hand, still resting on his shoulder. A simple gesture really. But it nearly undid her. “It’s people who have lots of opinions.”
She glanced at Lainey, who stood at the counter, scrolling through her phone. She didn’t look up.
Scottie sighed. So he’d felt the sting of whispers, and the sideways glances. Hadn’t he been a pariah long enough? He deserved to be treated better.
She pulled away, then sat down across from him and met his pained gaze. “Is this about how you spend your money?”
He nodded.
“Well, you can waltz into the party with your head held high because you just did something really great for the kids who are going back to school next week.”
Lainey set her phone down. “Come on, Gary. S’mores bar. It’s going to be epic. I can’t even imagine how many toppings Cassie McGuire will roll out this year.”
“Let’s go. You and I can have a competition,” Scottie said. She tried to lace her words with lightness, but inside, her heart clenched. She wanted this for him—for them. To be seen as part of the community again. “Who has the best s’more? We’ll get the guys to vote.”
She caught her father’s hesitation, the slump of his shoulders, and tried again. “Please, Dad. Come on—it’ll be fun.”
What she didn’t say—what she held tucked inside—was that she wanted to go because Tate would be there. She’d hurt him somehow. And now she needed to make things right.
Forget everything I said when I was loopy…That was the fever talking for sure.
Tate anchored the blue plastic tablecloth down with a jar of pickles and tried to shove Scottie’s words deep down where he wouldn’t have to deal with them.
“Sweetheart, can you grab me another package of buns from the counter?”
“Uh-huh.” Tate scanned the guests spilling across the resort’s lawn. Late afternoon sunshine cut through the trees, and a breeze washed through, making the branches bob and sway.
Mom pressed her hand to his arm. “Did you hear me?”
Tate glanced at her, noting the worry etched in her features. “Sorry, what?”
“Buns.” She pointed to the grill. Smoke curled into the air. “These brats are just about ready. I need both packages, okay?”
“Yes, ma’am, I’m on it.” He turned toward the back door but couldn’t resist one more look over his shoulder.
The yard teemed with people. Neighbors, resort guests, and friends from church.
Half the town, it seemed—but no sign of Scottie.
Caroline and Emma hadn’t arrived yet. Lainey either.
Celebrities from the show had come outside a few minutes ago, drawing plenty of whispers, and now a line formed for selfies.
Theo had garnered the most attention so far, holding court by the drinks station. Carter hung out by the firepit, chatting up a group of women, his laugh carrying above the hum of conversation. Tate’s jaw tightened. He still didn’t get the appeal.
He went inside. Luke leaned against the counter, thumbs flying over the keyboard on his phone. He glanced up.
“Hey. Looking for Scottie?”
Oy. Was it that obvious? “Maybe. Why? Are you looking for Emma?”
Luke grinned. “Yep. She hasn’t responded to my text, but I figure she’s running late after helping with the backpack service project. Hard to complain when she’s doing something good for the community.”
“Agreed.” Tate found the packages of buns, stacked them in his arms, and carried them back outside.
He shouldn’t worry. He knew that. But worry pressed in anyway.
His family already gave him enough grief about the way he fixated on things, how he couldn’t let go.
But Scottie wasn’t just a “thing.” She wasn’t replaceable.
And lately, it seemed every time he turned around, there was another problem. Another crisis unfolding.
A shout went up from the lawn, and his muscles tensed, ready to act. Only a rowdy cornhole game though. He exhaled, shifting the buns in his arms.
And then—she was there.
Scottie stepped through the crowd with her dad at her side.
Relief shot through him, mingled with a tight ache.
She looked…luminous, curls catching the sun, a smile tugging at her mouth as Theo said something that made her laugh.
Carter strode across the grass, his movement fluid and easy.
She tilted her head toward him, amused by whatever he said.
Heat burned in Tate’s chest. Irritation, raw and restless, clawed at him. Those two had no business soaking up her light.
Dude, get a grip.