Chapter 29
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
VALEN
Seeing Happiness, Georgia through Clover’s eyes is a much different experience than when I first arrived here.
It’s nothing like I expected and everything Clover has needed.
What does it say about me if I’m jealous that a fucking town was able to take care of my girl when I wasn’t?
Probably nothing good.
We pull onto Main Street just after noon, and the first thing I see is a hand-painted sign that reads “Welcome to Happiness—Where Smiles Are Free and Gossip Is Priceless.”
“Jesus Christ,” Roman mutters from the driver’s seat of the small bus he’s driving.
Neither of us paid much attention to the…aesthetics of the town when we first arrived. Now it’s all I can see, and I have a feeling Roman’s having the same experience if his turned-up nose is anything to go by.
I hope I don’t look like such a snob though.
“Ah, the sign is a work in progress.” Clover chuckles.
It’s a beautiful sound. “Braxton and Grey were upset that the very first things they saw when they came to town were signs for a meat auction, so they started a contest for the best Welcome to Happiness sign. Each entry gets a one-week trial.” She grins up at me.
“Madi told me some are better than others.”
“I love it already,” Chase says from the back. I’m not even a little surprised that he appreciates the chaos here.
Clover, who’s wedged between me and Sterling in the middle row, lets out a sound that’s half laugh, half sob. “We’re home,” she whispers.
I squeeze her hand that I’ve been holding for going on six hours now.
The town is small—smaller than I could have imagined, even after all my research. When I arrived last time, it was with a critical eye focused on the safety of a client. Being here now, as a boyfriend—a term I’m still getting used to, even if I did anoint myself with it—is a whole new experience.
I’ve never been a boyfriend before. And I’ve certainly never gone home to “meet the family” with a girl before.
“Oh, look!” Clover leans across me and presses her nose to the window.
Main Street is four blocks long, lined with brick buildings that appear like they haven’t seen a paintbrush or hammer since the fifties.
And up ahead, in the center of it all, is the old train station.
“The Chug,” Clover says. Her face literally shines as she stares at it.
“It’s so—” Sterling scratches his head.
“Quaint,” Grant supplies from the back seat with Chase. Somehow, Chief won the passenger seat, and I think Grant is still pouting about it, since he called dibs first.
“Perfect,” I say, staring at Clover. This town. Her. It’s all…perfect.
And just like that, another memory surfaces—not sharp like the others, but soft.
Hazy.
I’m young, maybe twelve, and Clover is crying in the dark. I’m whispering through a door, telling her about a place in a book Aunt Vivi read to me. A place where people smile at strangers and no one locks little girls in closets.
“Someday,” I promise, “I’ll take you somewhere happy. Somewhere you don’t have to count.”
I blink, and the memory fades, but the ache remains. I made that promise to her, and somehow, against all odds, she found that place without me.
Her eyes are glued to the window, taking it all in as though it’s her first time here.
This is her home.
Does she feel the tension leaving her body?
Because I sure see it. I watch in silent awe as her shoulders drop away from her ears and her fingers draw lazy designs on my leg instead of tapping the metronome of her fears.
It all happens because we crossed the border into Happiness.
It’s a comfort I’ve never experienced, not even with my cousins, because there’s always been a lingering threat of the unknown for me.
Jesus. That’s been a shitty way to live.
Another fragment surfaces, unbidden.
The night everything ended.
I’m running through the compound in the dark, my heart pounding so hard the metallic taste of copper fills my mouth.
Miriam has Clover—I can see them disappearing through the gap in the fence.
Get her out. Keep her safe. Don’t let them follow.
That was the mantra in my head as I turned back to face Terra’s men who were chasing us.
I remember the first blow to my ribs.
I nearly double over, the phantom pain as fresh as the day it happened.
Does everyone remember their beating like this?
The next hit was to the back of my head, and I stumbled to the ground.
My head throbs in response.
I was fighting the darkness, holding on so Clover could get free. I took the hits, swinging out blindly as my vision blurred, trying to prolong this punishment because Clover needed more time.
She shifts next to me, and I blink this version of her back into focus. She’s safe and loved and home, and I’d do it all again, a thousand times over, because she escaped that night.
“There,” she points again. “The Chug is where we record our podcasts too.” I don’t bother telling her that the guys know all of this.
They would have learned all they could from the profile Roman put together when he first arrived in Happiness.
“And—” She sits up taller. “Oh, God. That’s Madi.
Right there on the steps. Pull over, Roman. Please.”
I follow her finger, and sure enough, her pint-sized ballbuster of a friend is standing next to a ramp with a wagon full of what looks like an entire bakery.
“Seventeen pies,” Clover says faintly. “She actually made seventeen pies because she was worried about me.”
“I call dibs on apple,” Chase says.
“You’ll eat whatever you’re offered and be grateful,” I tell him, surprised by the bite in my tone. It sounded suspiciously like Aunt Vivi.
Apparently, my protective tendencies for Clover transfer to her friends as well.
“Yes, Dad,” Chase shoots back, but he’s smiling—I can sense his gratingly handsome but smug face.
Roman pulls into the old train station and puts the vehicle in park, then stares out of the windshield for a long moment. It’s as if he’s seeing this place with new eyes too, and if I didn’t know better, I’d think small-town energy made him nervous.
Perhaps it’s just this small town that gives him pause.
Before we can even exit the minibus, the front door of the Chug flies open and a tiny blond woman comes barreling out, followed by two other people.
“Clover!” Madi’s crying before she even reaches the car. Behind her, I spot Greyson pushing Savvy in a wheelchair.
Roman barely gets my door open before Clover’s yanked out, over my lap, and sandwiched into a group hug so fierce I’m concerned for her ribs—especially considering the way they twist to incorporate Savvy into the mix.
“Can’t. Breathe,” Clover gasps through a laugh. “Guys. I can’t breathe.”
“Too bad,” Savvy says from her wheelchair. “You scared us half to death. You don’t get to breathe yet.”
“Grey, tell them,” Clover pleads.
Grey stands stoically behind Savvy, shaking his head and glaring poison-tipped darts my way. “You brought this on yourself, Clove. They were worried sick.”
I want to punch the guy because like hell Clover created any of this mess. I climb out of the minibus, and immediately all heads swivel my way.
Good. Let me take the heat. Better than Clover doing it.
The group hug doesn’t break apart. They just stare as Grant, Sterling, Chase, Roman, and Chief form a semi-circle around us, looking completely out of place.
“Hi,” I say, sounding like a fifteen-year-old picking up a date whose father is busy cleaning a shotgun in front of me.
Greyson Reyes does not scare me. But these women? Yeah, they’re scary as hell.
“Dear Lord,” Madi breathes. “Clover, you brought the entire Harrington brotherhood to my doorstep?”
“Yup,” Clover says with a smile in her voice. I wish she’d shine it my way. “Guys, you remember Madi. You already know Grey and Savvy. And Elle—she’s our resident interior designer. She’s married to the biggest, funniest Irishman you’ll ever meet.”
“Valen,” Madi says with a shrewdness to her tone that sets my teeth on edge. “For your balls’ sake, I hope you’ve been keeping our girl safe.”
“Trying to,” I say honestly. Still, I stagger one foot in front of the other and push my hips back, away from her, just in case.
“Trying?” Savvy’s eyebrow twitches. “If there’s so much as a scratch—”
“Savvy,” Clover warns. “Be nice.”
“I am being nice. This is me being nice,” Savvy scoffs.
“If I wasn’t being nice, I’d already have Greyson running a full background check.
” She pauses. “Well, I did do that. You’re clean, by the way.
” She narrows her eyes. “Suspiciously clean for someone who supposedly spent his childhood in a cult.”
“Savvy!” Clover looks mortified. “I was raised in a cult too, and I don’t have a record, for crying out loud.”
I bite back a smile. Clover can defend my honor any day of the fucking week. “I was only cultish in the summers and some holidays. My aunt made sure my record stayed clean the rest of the time.”
“Yes, your aunt. Vivian Harrington,” Savvy continues as my cousins all stand a little taller.
“Billionaire banker, philanthropist, and your guardian. See? I’ve done some digging since you were all here last. Interesting family you have.
” Her gaze assesses each of my cousins and I love seeing them squirm.
“Harrington Bank and Trust.” Grant locks his jaw as she ticks our family businesses off with her fingers.
“Ton Spirits and Brewery.” Chase flashes a wicked grin.
“CEO of a very secretive club.” Sterling has the good sense to duck his head.
“And a whole chain of preschools, athletic centers, and amusement parks.” Roman clenches his fists.
“That’s quite the family collection in addition to Styx and Stone Security. ”
“We didn’t choose which company we inherited,” Roman grumbles.
“Uh-huh.” Her gaze misses nothing. Not even the way Roman’s left eye flutters when he’s annoyed.
“You’re terrifying,” I tell her honestly. “I respect that.”
She studies me for a beat, then nods.