Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DELANEY
“Stop pacing, for the love of God,” Tam said without looking up from the cheese she was grating.
“Pfft. I’m not pacing . I’m walking. There’s a difference. Tell your mommy that the brain can be affected by a lack of proper oxygenation during periods of reduced mobility,” I instructed my niece as we made another circuit from the kitchen, through the dining room, and into the living room of Tam and Lucas’s home.
Tierney, settled against my shoulder like an adorable, drooling sack of potatoes, made a gurgling sound I chose to interpret as agreement.
“See?” I demanded of Tam. “She says she’d walk if she could, but while she’s still working on pesky things like controlling her limbs, she has Uncle Delaney to walk for her. She understands that development of balance and spatial awareness in infants is directly correlated with exposure to varied positional changes, and studies show that?—”
“Laney, I agree that Li’l T is brilliant,” my brother Lawson said from the kitchen table, where he was mowing through a bag of plantain chips while drinking his second beer. “But please let her roll over before you have her start quoting studies at me.”
I shot him a withering look. “Your understanding of child development rivals your understanding of proper nutrition, Lawson. And her name is Tierney. Tier. Ney. She’s not one of your locker room buds.”
Lawson snorted, but the sound lacked his usual energy, and he didn’t clap back at all.
In truth, my NHL-star brother looked like someone had used his face as a hockey puck—dark circles under his eyes, shoulders slumped, his left arm held against his body in the careful way that suggested his shoulder had been lightly maimed during his last game but he didn’t want to acknowledge it.
The oven timer dinged, and Tam moved to the oven to take the foil off her lasagna. The rich scent of tomato sauce, melted cheese, and garlic bread filled the air.
“Should you even be here right now?” I demanded of Lawson, studying his exhausted face. “Don’t the Monarchs want their new defenseman to stay in Ontario, where they can keep an eye on him?”
Lawson rolled his eyes. “I escaped custody for the night. Long-ass drive, but worth it for Tam’s lasagna.”
“All for the lasagna,” Tam agreed. “Definitely nothing to do with avoiding his new coach.”
“Hey! I didn’t say anything about my coach,” Lawson protested—weakly, in my opinion. “He’s fine. Everyone’s fine. It’s just… different. That’s how it goes when you’re traded. Takes a while to find your place.”
“Hmm.” I kept my eyes on him as I made another circuit of the dining room.
Lawson huffed. “Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk hockey. I came to see my li’l… niece —” He raised an eyebrow at me. “—and to catch up with everyone. So give me the Copper County goss. How’s that former-model friend of yours settling in?”
“You mean Jasper,” I supplied. “He’s doing well.”
“Good! Good. And, ah…” He snapped his fingers. “The sweet guy with the glasses, what’s his name?”
“Chris Sunday?” Tam guessed. “He seems fine.”
“Great. That’s great. And how’s, um… how’s Oliver Castillo doing? Is he dating anyone, or…?”
I wrinkled my nose at Tam. “Who’s Oliver?”
“Physical therapist, friend of Watt’s,” Tam said. “You’ve probably met him and don’t remember.” She flipped a dish towel over her shoulder and gave Lawson a curious look. “I’m not sure how Law knows him, though.”
“I don’t know him.” Lawson suddenly seemed very invested in reading the label on the plantain chips—and not a moment too late since he’d eaten enough sodium for ten men. “I just vaguely remembered meeting him at the bar when I was here over Thanksgiving, that’s all. He seemed cool.”
Tam and I exchanged a look.
“Nope. Put that expression away, Tamsen. It was a simple question. If you wanna play detective, let’s turn our attention to the giant, pacing elephant in the room.” Lawson waved a hand at me.
I stopped pacing—I mean, walking —just long enough to glare at him.
Tam snorted and did turn her attention to me… just as the asshole formerly known as my brother had known she would when he’d thrown me under the bus.
“Law’s right. You have been walking rather aggressively. What’s on your mind, Laney?”
The answer to that question was as simple as it was mortifying.
Brewer.
Specifically, Brewer’s eye crinkles. Brewer’s laugh. Brewer’s jaw. Brewer’s chest. Brewer’s mouth on mine. Brewer’s big hand, which could wield a hammer with force but could also hold a fussy, flowered teacup or fix my glasses with such gentleness. The little frown on Brewer’s face when he needed to jot down a measurement and tried patting down the front pockets of his work shirt, the area around his band saw, and the space behind his ear before finding the pencil clamped between his teeth. Brewer’s deep voice as he reminded me that he’d promised you a renovation, Delaney. Not complications.
I nearly tripped on a corner of the rug as I rounded from the living room to the dining room.
“Nothing,” I said firmly. “Nope. Not a single thing.”
“Nothing? Really? That’s interesting,” my brother teased. “Because if I’d just found a treasure trove of artwork in my wall, that might be on my mind.”
“Don’t be pedantic,” I told him, walking faster. “Obviously, I’ve thought about it. I simply meant it’s not ‘on my mind’ in a negative way. Google says there was a pretty prolific artist called E. Winters, but their styles are totally different.” I shrugged. “So I texted Samuel Purchase to see if he knew anything, and Janice recommended an art appraiser, who’s coming by next week?—”
“Wait, you told Janice? On purpose?” Tam demanded. For Lawson’s benefit, she added, “Janice Plum’s one of the biggest gossips in town.”
“Why not?” I lifted my chin in challenge without slowing down. “Brewer basically promised we would, and Janice knows a lot about history. She was very excited when she saw the canvases?—”
“She came to your house?” Tam’s eyes were wide. “You invited her inside?”
“She’s not a vampire, Tamsen. And yes. Several people stopped by, actually,” I said with dignity. “All of them were excited, too. It’s been kind of… fun, figuring out the mystery. I’m not stressed about it.”
“I have got to see these paintings,” Tam muttered. She folded her arms and watched me walk by. “So is it the Empire Ridge story that’s bugging you, then?”
“Oooh, I remember you mentioning this in the sibling chat. Corruption and shit, right?” Lawson said. “That’d bug the fuck out of me.”
He wasn’t wrong. But when Marjorie had called today and begged for an update, the only thing I’d been able to tell her was that Anthony Harmon had emailed me back about the firehouse… and told me there wasn’t one.
Mr. Monroe,
As you’ve discovered, there’s no firehouse on the property Empire Ridge acquired from us.
After threatening us with eminent domain, they apparently changed their minds about how the land would be used… or, more likely, never planned to build the firehouse at all.
I wish I had copies of the plans they presented us during the meeting, if only to show their pattern of lies and manipulations, but obviously, they were too smart to provide me with any. The company that did all the site analyses and infrastructure planning for River Bend—Cornerstone Development Solutions—claims to have no knowledge of this “second set” of plans.
Once again, I have no proof aside from my word.
A. Harmon.
“It’s frustrating,” I agreed. “Every line of inquiry has been a dead end, and I’m all out of ideas. But I’m sticking with it. I’m not too stressed.”
When I passed through the kitchen the next time, Tam was leaning against the counter, watching me. “Why not ask Marjorie to hire you a research assistant? Maybe someone else will have a fresh perspective.”
I considered this for a moment. “That’s actually a really good idea.”
“Right? And then you can start prepping for your next story at the vacation resort in Costa Rica.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “It’s a hard knock life, bro.”
“Oh, fuck me. You’re going to Costa Rica for work ?” Lawson shook his head in disgust. “‘Become a hockey player, Lawson,’ they said. ‘It’ll be so much fun,’ they said. Nobody mentioned how few tropical destinations would be involved. You have the best job, Delaney.”
I frowned and paused. “You think?”
“Shit, yeah. The freedom to decide what you write about and where ?” He waved a hand, indicating Tam’s house, the lake, and possibly all of Copper County. “Pretty fucking sweet.”
He was right, of course. I just hadn’t expected him to say it. For as long as I could remember, I’d assumed my siblings felt sorry for me. The runt who couldn’t keep up. The one who’d never mastered sports. The oddball who’d chosen words over physicality.
But seeing the fatigue in Lawson’s eyes, thinking about how he’d been traded to a new team without so much as a by-your-leave…
“I’m really lucky,” I agreed as I resumed my walk.
“Hmm.” Tam tapped her lip. “So if you’re not upset about the paintings, and you seem to be taking your frustration about your article in stride?—”
I knew where she was going with this and began shaking my head immediately. “Stop. I have no comment on this matter.”
“—then I can only think of one other reason why you’re stomping around my house so energetically that my kid’s gonna need a FitBit before she can walk.”
“La la la la. Can’t hear you,” I insisted as I passed through the living room.
“Tell us about your contractor, Laney!” she singsonged. “Did you jump him?”
“Can’t we talk about Lawson and Oliver again,” I demanded desperately. “Sounds like there’s a heck of a story there, huh?”
Predictably, they ignored me. And when I passed the kitchen table again, Lawson was leaning back in his chair, rubbing his salty fingers together gleefully. “Laney jumped his contractor? Our little Laney? Fuck yeah!”
“Fuck no ,” I huffed, pushing my glasses up. “And I’m not little . I am a man of average size and weight?—”
“So, I don’t know if Laney actually jumped him yet,” Tam was already saying. “But Brewer is gorgeous, Law. Like, so jumpable. He’s got dreamy eyes and shoulders like whoa . So I advised jumping him?—”
“Tamsen Marie! You are a married woman!” I stopped directly in front of her and clutched the baby tighter. “Leave Brewer’s shoulders alone.”
“—but thinking about it later,” she went on, “I’m not sure that was good advice.”
“You’re not?” Lawson and I said together.
“Well, I don’t know Brewer all that well,” Tam told Lawson. “The guy hardly ever talks?—”
“That’s not true. He talks plenty,” I informed her. “ Plenty .”
“And he’s bossy—” Tam went on.
“No,” I muttered. “Not anymore.”
“And…” Tam sighed. “You know how stubborn Delaney can be, Law. How he likes to argue for the sake of arguing when he’s feeling vulnerable?—”
“I do not!” I argued… stubbornly.
“So, as you can imagine, he and Brewer do not get along.” Tam shook her head sadly.
“We do! We’re being very polite.” I wondered if I sounded as miserable about this as I felt. I’d preferred our arguments to the way Brewer and I had orbited around each other this morning before he got called to Watt’s, not touching and only talking when necessary.
“Even though Brewer’s hot, I’m just not sure he and Delaney would really be compatible in a… jumping scenario, if you know what I mean,” Tam finished.
“Excuse you, we were absolutely compatible!” I said hotly. “We were fire! We jumped literally all night!”
The kitchen was silent for a long moment but for the hum of the refrigerator. Then, a slow smile spread across Tam’s face.
I lifted my chin. “I hate you,” I said as I resumed my steady, measured, non-pacing walk. “Both of you. I do not appreciate being managed.”
“It was either that or get you liquored up, if we wanted you to be honest,” Tam said apologetically. “So… what happened?”
I blew out a breath. “If you must know, Brewer and I hooked up. During the storm, the night before last. And that information stays in this room, do you hear?” I shot both my siblings a glare that said I meant it.
Tam nodded.
“Dude, I don’t share your business. Besides, who’m I gonna tell?” Lawson demanded.
I huffed out a breath. “I know, but it’s not just my business. Brewer wants to maintain his professional reputation and doesn’t want the town to know he hooked up with a client. Especially since it was only a onetime thing. A bad idea. A… a complication.” This time, I was sure my unhappiness was audible.
“Did Brewer say that?” Tam’s chin jutted out mulishly, and her eyes narrowed. “About you ?”
“Huh. Where’s this guy live again?” Lawson asked with deceptive calm. “And how big is he, exactly?”
I gave a half laugh. “Don’t even think about beating him up, Law.”
“Who said anything about beating him up?” Lawson blinked innocently. “I’m a pacifist, bruh. I just wanted to have a pleasant chat with him. That’s all.”
I shook my head. “Like you had a chat with Marc Broder after he checked me too hard during practice when we were twelve? You threatened to run over him with a Zamboni.”
“Hey. That was Tamsen,” Lawson insisted, pointing a finger at her.
This was unfortunately true.
“And when Martin Phillipowski called me a pansy-assed nerd and you chatted with him, and the next day, he acted like he was too scared to speak in my presence? Was that Tam, too? Or when Dad got rid of Gretzky because I couldn’t handle my fear, and you all told me it was fine, even though I know you cried over it?” I shook my head. ”I’m not weak. I don’t require anyone’s protection or pity. I can take care of myself.”
“Who said you were weak?” Lawson scoffed. “And who pities you, Mr. I’m Flying To Costa Rica, Hold My Calls? Jesus, Laney. Us being protective doesn’t mean we think you’re incapable. It means we fucking love you.” He crumpled the empty chip bag. “Asshole.”
My shoulders loosened and fell. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. Because I… I agree with Brewer. It was a… a one-night storm-induced moment of insanity. But he and I are very different people with wildly different lives. We have nothing in common.”
Except musicals.
And wine.
And jam-cupboard mysteries.
And firelight chats.
And sledgehammers.
And the new cabinets he’d begun designing, after getting my input on the sketches and the specific materials I wanted.
And the way he made me feel strong and competent and understood. Like I fit .
“It’s simpler this way,” I said with finality. I continued bouncing Tierney, though the urge to walk had mostly faded.
Tam and Lawson both watched me for a long moment. Lawson’s look was mostly sympathetic, like he understood my feelings all too well.
Tam’s look was more calculating. “I’m sure you’re right,” she began.
“Oh, God.” I rolled my eyes. She didn’t sound sure at all.
“But hear me out. If you did want something to happen…”
“Tam. I don’t!”
“If you did … Brewer won’t always be your contractor,” she pointed out. “So maybe you could find a way to let him know you’d maybe be open to the possibility of a repeat, if he was maybe interested. Then you could sort of… keep it casual and see where things go.”
I shot her a look. “Aren’t you the woman who forbade your siblings to use hookup apps within a ten-mile radius of Copper County so the gossips wouldn’t hound you for details? And now you want me to hook up with Brewer?”
She shrugged. “What I want is for you to be happy, Delaney.” She motioned to Lawson. “That’s all either of us wants.”
The timer on the stove went off again, and everyone—including the baby—raised their heads.
“Speak for yourself,” Lawson joked, standing up and heading to the drawer to grab some potholders. “I want lasagna .”
I laughed.
Tam squawked and attacked Lawson with her dish towel when he tried to sneak a taste of the molten hot lasagna after she told him to “Wait for Lucas to get home for dinner, you barbarian.”
And thankfully—very thankfully—the moment passed.
But as I walked up my driveway later, past the piles of neatly shoveled snow, I kept thinking about Brewer—I mean, obviously —and about what Tam had said, too.
It was exhausting, pretending that I didn’t want him, that I wasn’t thinking about him all the time, and that the “bad idea” of starting something with Brewer didn’t feel like the best idea I’d heard of in a really long time.
So what I needed to do was convince Brewer somehow. Provide him with a compelling argument—the best one of my career—that it was worth exploring what was between us, at least temporarily.
No matter how hard I tried, though, I couldn’t think of a compelling reason to convince him to ignore his damned principles and touch me again.
Until twenty-four hours later when the idea finally came to me.