Chapter 7
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My mind attempts a reboot, then it short-circuits. It’s like I’ve been woken from a coma after twelve years. Erica and John look a little older, and John’s grown a white beard, but they don’t look that different from when I left Hideaway.
But their kids? Harper was a dorky twelve-year-old with wobbly teeth, which she would twist and tug whenever she had an audience—a kid who would burp the periodic table to make people laugh.
Now she’s an adult. A proper fucking adult.
Hudson? He was a skinny fourteen-year-old who was lifting weights smaller than my biceps.
Now? It looks like he lifts all the weights.
I thought I was in shape, but he’s built like a tank.
And then there’s Ethan. Taller, broader, older. Still a stupidly handsome bastard, but I can see the lines that life has left. The hardness that’s now directed at me.
I can’t hold his gaze, so I look at the child in his arms. And there it is, the sucker punch. The killer blow that slams the breath from my body.
Martha. With her white-blonde hair and big blue eyes, she’s a little Olivia. It’s like she’s still in the room.
But she isn’t.
She’s dead.
“Surprise!” Piper cries, echoing her mom, the sound cutting through the heavy silence.
I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t do this.
Piper grabs my hand, her fingers crushing mine, holding me in place.
I’m still staring at Martha, her shy smile now uncertain. She may be only five, but she can read a room.
This is all my fault. How the fuck did I think this would work?
An enormous belch reverberates off the walls and I can’t help a snort, which immediately evaporates at Ethan’s glare.
“Harper!” Erica scolds as Hudson rolls his eyes.
The youngest Locke sibling has a naughty grin on her face.
“Hey Brody.” She burps again.
“Can you still burp the—”
“Hydrogen, helium, lithium, beryllium—”
“Harper!” her entire family yells, even though they’re struggling to keep straight faces.
“Hydogen, hedium, lissium, beribibum …”
“Don’t you be copying Aunt Harper now, Martha-Moo,” Ethan says gently.
“But Daddy!” she replies, her little hands holding either side of his face. “It’s science!”
Ethan’s trying to be stern, but one corner of his mouth twitches, and his eyes are full of love.
“And you think it’s funny, too,” she continues. “Everyone thinks it’s funny.”
Hudson steps forward, his arm extended. “Good to see you again, Brody.”
“You too,” I reply.
Piper lets go of my hand, and I reach out to take Hudson’s, bracing myself for what’s coming.
Jesus Christ. I know this is a test, so I grip back as hard as I can, my metacarpals screaming in protest. Piper told me Hudson was a firefighter, and judging by the strength of his grip, his job involves tearing burning buildings apart with his bare hands.
Just as I’m about to tap out, Harper pushes her brother aside and gives me a hug I’m not expecting, followed by a few loud sniffs, like she’s a dog checking me out.
“Harper!” Piper cries. “Stop it!”
“I see you wear what you advertise,” Harper says with a grin as she disengages. “Top notes of bergamot and a marine accord, heart of cedarwood and ambergris, with a base of smoked vetiver and labdanum. Good balance. Clean but dark. Tempest suits you.”
“Honey,” Erica says, drawing her youngest child away. “We don’t smell our guests.”
Sweat breaks out across my skin. Can Harper smell fear, too?
“I’m so sorry,” Piper mutters. “I had no idea.”
“You’re Brody,” Martha states solemnly.
I meet her gaze, forcing a smile.
“Don’t be scared,” she says. “Aunt Harper is very special.”
Hudson snorts, and Harper elbows him.
“You’ve gotten old,” Martha continues.
What the—
“Very, very old.”
Harper bites her lip and looks away. Hudson stares at the floor, his shoulders shaking slightly. Even Ethan’s grim facade seems to be cracking.
I glance at Piper. Her smile is strained, her eyes telling me she wishes we were anywhere but here.
“Just like Daddy,” Martha continues.
Ethan’s eyes widen as he gazes at his daughter, and Harper and Hudson laugh out loud. John clears his throat, attempting to disguise a chuckle, while Erica covers her mouth.
“Why are you laughing?” Martha asks, her little chin starting to wobble. “It’s true!”
“Shhh, sweetie,” Ethan says to her. “It’s okay. They’re only laughing because Daddy isn’t really that old.”
“But you’re nearly as old as Grandpa!” she cries. “And you used to be much younger, like that.” She points to a framed photo on the wall, and my heart stutters.
It was taken two weeks before I left Hideaway, at a graduation party Erica and John had thrown for Ethan, Olivia, and me. Even though Olivia and I weren’t their kids, they’d included our names on the cake alongside Ethan’s.
I remember everything about that moment as if it were yesterday.
Mia had taken the picture. Ethan is in the middle, one arm slung around my shoulders, the other holding Olivia close.
Harper and Hudson stand next to her, at that awkward, skinny stage of adolescence when they seemed to grow overnight.
And next to me, Piper. I wanted to put my free arm around her, but knew I couldn’t. The backs of our hands were touching, though.
“See!”
“Yes, honey,” Erica replies, “you’re absolutely right. Now, are you hungry?”
Martha presses her lips together, an expression of intense concentration on her face, then looks at her father.
“Am I hungry, Daddy?”
Ethan lifts her out of his arms, pressing her tummy next to his ear.
“I think so, pumpkin,” he says. “I can definitely hear the gurgle monster.”
“What does he want to eat?” Martha asks, giggling between words.
Ethan glances at his mother.
“Mini lobster rolls, roast pork, and blueberry pie,” Erica says in a growly voice from just behind her granddaughter.
“Feed the gurgle monster!” Martha cries, then wriggles in Ethan’s arms to face her grandmother. “I want to be between you and Daddy.” She looks at Piper. “And opposite Aunt Piper.”
Piper presses a hand to her heart. “I am honored.”
My heart feels too tight inside my chest as I watch Martha with her family. It’s one thing to know your friends’ had a kid; it’s another to meet her face-to-face. It makes it real in a way I can’t deal with.
A zing sparks through my fingers, as Piper takes my hand and squeezes.
Suddenly, I don’t feel quite so alone. Her presence grounds me.
Just friends, remember?
I drop her hand and extend my arm towards the dining room. “Ladies first.”
Her expression glitches for a second, like she’s embarrassed, then she smiles and leads me into the other room, seating me next to her, with Hudson on my other side.
“Can we help?” I ask Erica as she brings a booster seat to the table for Martha.
She waves me away as I begin to get up. “Absolutely not, young man. You sit. We’ve got this.”
The table is set with a garland of evergreens running down the center, with sprigs of pine and cedar nestled around the bases of the candles. Flatware sparkles in the light, and the linen napkins are neatly pressed. Nothing about this looks like the low-key dinner for four we were expecting.
“Mom …” Piper says. “I thought it was just supposed to be you and Dad this evening.”
Erica ignores her, directing Hudson to the kitchen as Ethan lowers Martha onto her seat and pushes it toward the table.
“Gee, thanks,” Harper says. “Love you too.”
“You know I don’t mean it like that,” Piper replies, trying to keep her voice down as Martha leans closer to listen. “It’s just … a lot.”
“And so is this,” Ethan says, gesturing toward me and Piper as he takes his seat.
Piper stiffens beside me.
“That’s my fault,” I say. I have no idea how it’s my fault, considering this relationship was only invented a couple of days ago, so I leave it at that.
“How?” he asks, his tone deceptively calm.
I rub my free hand over my jaw, trying to buy time. “Because …”
Because I ghosted your entire family after my mom died, and needed to get away to prove I wasn’t like her or my dad? And now I’m back and fake-dating your sister just so I can land a job?
Erica bustles back into the room, leading John and Hudson, who are carrying mini lobster rolls, wine, and a cut-glass crystal jug of iced water.
“You leave him be,” she says to Ethan. “There’s plenty of time for explanations. I’ve got my whole family with me, and that’s all that matters.”
“You want some wine, son?” John asks me.
My hand covers the top of the glass a little too quickly and I feel people’s eyes on me. “Just water, thank you.”
He moves on without acknowledging my choice, and I’m glad. I have no idea how much they’ve followed my life since I left Hideaway, or what they know. Our first meal together is not the time to spill the dirt, especially not with Martha here.
My mouth waters as the lobster rolls are passed around. I’ve eaten some of the best food in the world at the most exclusive and expensive restaurants, but nothing compares to the food at the Locke house. Yeah, I know it’s a cliché, but food made with love just can’t be beat.
“You okay with this, Brody?” Erica asks. “You’re not on a special diet?”
Piper stops moving beside me, and I glance around the table, noting who else reacts. Harper and Hudson’s expressions haven’t changed, and Ethan’s is inscrutable.
This is the part of fame I hate most. Waiting for someone to bring up your public fuck-ups like it’s the only thing you want to talk about.
“No,” I reply. “I eat everything.”
I try and force my heart to calm but it’s not listening. I need to man the fuck up. Say the words that are filling my chest.
“I want to apologize … for running away … and—”
Erica leans across Piper and touches my arm. “You don’t need to do that, honey.”
My jaw is clenched so hard I can hardly get the words out. “I do.” My voice is gruff, with the kind of emotion actors wish they could access on demand.
“Son—”
That nearly breaks me. John Locke was the father I always wanted, not the deadbeat dad I got.
“I do,” I repeat, a little forcefully. “There are a thousand reasons why I left Hideaway and didn’t return, but it was the biggest mistake of my life. I can’t take it back. I can’t change—” Martha’s enormous blue eyes are wide, taking in every word. “Even though I would do anything—”
Fuck! An ocean of grief I’ve ignored for over a decade is crashing through me.
Piper takes my hand and squeezes almost as hard as Hudson did earlier, making it even more difficult to hold it together.
“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
Through the blurred edges of my vision, I see Martha stretching her arms toward her father, and a lump rises in my throat.
The silence around the table is deafening, broken only by the screech of chair legs on the wooden floor and the patter of tiny feet.
Piper lets go of my hand as Martha pushes between us and throws her arms around me.
I lift her up and bury my face against her small chest while she strokes my hair.
“It’s all right, Uncle Brody. Daddy says it’s good to cry because you’re …”
There’s a low murmur from across the table.
“Acknolging your feelings.”
I hear the pride in her voice as she says such a big word, and the pain of her mom not being here hits me even harder.
I didn’t cry when Olivia died. It was too much of a shock. Too unreal to accept. The logical part of my mind accepted the truth, but the rest of me refused to believe it. And if I never went back to Hideaway …then maybe it didn’t happen. She, Ethan, and their baby girl were still one happy family.
But now the tears won’t fucking stop. I haven’t cried since my mom died, not even for a role.
Piper’s arms are around my back, helping hold me together, but her kindness is only breaking me further apart. I don’t deserve it.
I hear more chairs moving, feel more hands being placed on me, their warmth telling me I’m not alone.
“We love you, Uncle Brody!” Martha says brightly. “Everything’s going to be okay!”
I huff out a laugh even as the tears keep falling.
I see now why people want children. Why they adore them. Hell, I love Martha enough to lay down my life for her, and we’ve only known each other for fifteen minutes.
Little hands pull my hair, and I raise my head.
Martha’s lips are pressed together as she assesses me, her expression so strikingly like Ethan’s.
“You need to blow your nose now,” she says authoritatively. “Then eat your lobster roll.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Being hungry makes you cry,” she continues. “Because the gurgle monster pinches your tummy.”
I nod, aware of people around me. Erica is wiping her eyes and gazing at me and Martha with so much love that I have to look away.
“You can put me down now,” Martha says.
I gently lower her to the floor, and she skips back around the table to Ethan. I can’t look at him.
Piper hands me a wad of tissues, and I make for the hall outside the dining room. She follows me, closing the door behind us.
We both blow our noses, then face each other.
Tears make her eyes sparkle brighter, and the Christmas lights catch her hair, giving it a soft, golden glow.
“I’m so proud of you.”
Her words cut straight to my heart, and I hold my breath, staring up at the ceiling, fighting the urge to cry again.
“Do you want a hug?” she asks tentatively.
I give a tiny nod, and then she’s in my arms, and my whole body sighs, “Yes.”
I rest my head against hers, breathing in her scent like it’s the air keeping me alive.
“Thank you,” I manage, and she hugs me tighter.
Her touch isn’t sexual. It’s just … loving. Comforting. Kind.
But the longer we stand there, the harder it becomes for me to stay in the friend zone.
The edges of my grief soften and dissolve, and in their place, a steady beat of attraction builds, growing louder and louder.
My cock wakes up, and I panic. Piper’s being nice, and I’m being … the biggest creeper on the block.
The hug is now officially too long and has turned, for me, into the opposite of platonic. If we don’t break apart right now, she’s gonna know exactly how attracted I am to her, and that is not what either of us wants.
We jump apart as the doorbell rings, and Piper rushes to open it.
“Mia!” she screams as her best friend grabs her in a fierce hug, and they jump up and down, squealing.
I close the door against the winter air, wishing I could roll around in the snow to cool off from Piper’s touch. Then I gaze at her and Mia.
Mia’s older, more grown up, but her curly auburn hair still reaches her waist.
Finally breaking away from Piper, she gives me the once-over.
“Welcome back to Hideaway Harbor, Brody.”
She glances slyly at the light fitting above Piper and me, where a sprig of mistletoe is tied.
“Well, what are the chances?” Mia puts a hand on my shoulder. “You need to do the right thing, Brody.”
I stare blankly at her.
She slowly nods and gives me a slight push. “You need to kiss Piper.”