Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
brEWER
When Kel finally pulled into Delaney’s driveway, my knee was jumping, and my brain was buzzing.
I’d only been away from Delaney for a couple of hours, but it felt like years. I wanted to touch him. To kiss him. To ask him if he could see us building a future together. To promise him I was done holding back.
I was as excited as a kid on Christmas morning and as nervous as a student rolling into finals without cracking a book. The very large coffee I’d consumed hadn’t helped matters.
Neither did seeing an empty parking spot at the end of the driveway where Delaney’s Audi had been.
“Shit,” I muttered.
“Problem?” Kel asked.
I shook my head. “Looks like Delaney’s out. He and I were going to talk when I got home. Maybe he’s at Tam’s.”
I reached into my pocket for my phone to see if he’d messaged me, only to realize I didn’t have my phone on me at all. It was probably sitting upstairs on the floor of Delaney’s room, where I’d undressed last night.
“Fuck.” I dragged both hands through my hair.
“I mean… you’ll talk later, right?” Kel said reasonably. He studied my face like he didn’t understand my overreaction. “It’s not like he’s left town.”
“Of course not.” I scowled, too amped up to appreciate reason and platitudes. But honesty compelled me to admit. “Not yet anyway. He’s going to Costa Rica soon.”
Kel’s eyebrows winged up. “Yeah? Dang. I was hoping he’d stick around more, now that you two are… sleeping dependently.”
“His career is part of who he is,” I said hotly. I realized I sounded more like Delaney at his most prickly than like any version of myself. “He makes the world a better place by making sure everyone’s story gets told.” I shook my head. “I’d never want him to give that up.”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t think he’d wanna give up spending time with you either, so.” Kel gave a good-natured shrug.
“We’ll see. That’s one of the things we were starting to discuss this morning—” I clamped my mouth shut.
“Ah, shit, bro.” Kel made a face. “And then I interrupted? My bad. Tell Hot Delaney I’m sorry, and I’ll bring you guys some chocolate cake later. My treat.”
“It’s okay, Kel.” I patted his shoulder. “Everything will work out.”
“Risk and reward,” Kel said sagely. “You’re walking the walk, and I dig that, Brew. It’s, like, inspiring.”
I laughed. I wasn’t sure I was walking the walk, but I was trying. And I’d feel a fuck of a lot better once Delaney and I could talk.
Sure enough, after Teeny greeted me at the door with a tail wag so hard her whole body wiggled, I found my phone on Delaney’s floor and saw a missed call and a text message from him.
Delaney
Hey! Hope things are okay with Kel. Got a lead on my story. I’ll tell you all about it later. Be back by dinner.
I blew out a breath. It was ridiculous to feel this disappointed about a short delay. Delaney had a job to do… and so did I.
Teeny had trailed me upstairs and laid herself out on the floor in front of me like a large, fluffy rug. Some of the tension left my shoulders as I knelt to rub her belly.
“Delaney left you loose in the house, huh? Your detente has turned into a full-on love affair?” She panted excitedly. “Same, girl. Same.”
I spent the rest of the day distracting myself with work, putting the finishing touches on Delaney’s kitchen cabinets. They looked amazing. Next week, I’d install the countertop, paint the walls, and declare this room done.
But there were other projects I could imagine taking on around here. Delaney needed more bookshelves in his office and maybe a deck overlooking the lake for summer evenings. Some finials for the jam cupboard that Delaney could hold on to when I fucked him in there.
I caught myself mid-thought and smiled. I was planning a future here, with him. Setting down roots.
When the sun began to dip lower in the sky, I cleaned up my workspace and sent Delaney a text:
Did the lead pan out? Where did you have to go? Ordering dinner to be delivered in an hour.
I scheduled the food and began cleaning up my tools.
When the food arrived and Delaney still hadn’t texted, I felt the first stirring of nerves. We usually ate dinner by seven since most restaurants around here closed early. Had his car broken down? Had he gotten a flat tire?
But I put the food in the oven to keep warm and told myself Delaney hated when people were overprotective.
Still, I couldn’t resist calling him. His phone clicked to voicemail immediately, so I sent another text.
Dinner’s here. ETA?
I decided maybe Kel had the right idea about making things “perfect” for when I dropped my “feelings bomb.” I found a clean drop cloth I could use as a table covering, liberated some candles from the drawer in the laundry room, and after pacing in front of the windows—no sign of headlights—with Teeny tracing my steps, I took my supplies to Delaney’s office to set them up.
He’d set up picnics on his desk often in the past couple of weeks since it was the only flat surface in the house, and I knew how he cleaned off his desk. Since he seemed to have taken his laptop, the only thing that needed to be moved was his notebook.
But before I could spread out my drop-cloth table cover, I noticed a business card on his desk where his notebook had been.
Without thinking, I picked it up.
B. Anthony Harmon, Harmon Construction
The world seemed to tilt sideways for a second.
“What the fuck?” I asked the empty room. Why did Delaney have my father’s card?
My first thought was that he’d come here. That Hayes had refused to act as the go-between any longer, and my father, never one to take no for an answer, had decided to track me down and have his say… which was enraging.
But then I caught sight of the notes scrawled on the pad in my hand.
The top line read: Empire Ridge — second River Bend plans?
Beneath that, the words Cornerstone Development and Paradigm Urban Planning had been scrawled and then crossed out.
On the final line, the words Beatty Site Solutions were circled twice.
I let the notebook, along with the candles and tablecloth, slide to the desk.
Of the notes written on the page, the only part I understood was the first line… and even then, I didn’t understand.
Empire Ridge was the company Delaney was writing about. The one that had bought my grandfather’s house back in Southbourne and destroyed it to build a housing development. River Bend was the name of that development.
But what the fuck did the rest of it mean?
My brain felt like sludge as I tried to process, but one thing came through loud and clear. Of all the shitty things Empire Ridge had done and all the people they’d hurt—which was a fucking large number, given their reputation—the person Delaney had been trying to make things fair and right for… was my father.
I blew out a breath and sank into Delaney’s desk chair, my father’s card still clutched between my fingers.
Teeny whined softly, sensing my distress, and came to rest her head on my knee.
Did Delaney know B. Anthony Harmon was my father?
If so, how long had he known?
For a fraction of a second, I wondered if he’d known all along—had been working for my father to bring me back into the family fold or something—but even stunned as I was, I knew Delaney would never do something like that.
My father had always been charming, convincing. He’d made people believe he was a power player or a poor, pitiful victim, depending on what suited his needs.
Delaney wasn’t like that. He was honest to a fault.
Which meant Delaney had to have just made the connection today, in which case he might be hurt or upset that I hadn’t shared…
I stopped suddenly with the realization he might not have made the connection yet at all. It was possible, given how long ago I’d left Harmon Construction and how thoroughly I’d cut my father out of my life since then. We didn’t even have the same last name anymore.
Against my will, my brain served up our last conversation, the one I’d walked away from.
“You don’t understand, Brew. Empire Ridge threatened me. They threatened us ? —”
“Bullshit. What did they threaten you with, Dad? Losing money? How much is your integrity worth? How much is mine worth? You might not give a shit about those things, but I do. You had no right to make this deal, to give away what was mine ? —”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion on this deal because I didn’t have to, son.”
Remembering how helpless and frustrated I’d felt that day made me sick. I hadn’t believed a single word my father had spoken, especially not excuses about supposed “threats” he’d used to justify his actions. It was just like my father to shift the blame.
Now, I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been honest for once. If the “threats” hadn’t been to his bottom line but of actual physical harm.
Trying not to panic, I called Delaney again.
Voicemail .
Empire Ridge was dangerous—it was clear in the way they’d taken down Harmon Construction and other smaller companies. I’d never heard about them trying physical intimidation, but I wouldn’t put it past them.
And now Delaney was out there somewhere, trying to find justice for one of the least deserving men on the planet. What if he was doing it by accusing—or provoking —Empire Ridge?
It hit me then just how stupid I’d been not to talk to Delaney about this sooner. As soon as I learned he was writing about Empire Ridge, for sure. I’d prioritized my own comfort. I’d needed to keep my walls up, to stop myself from getting hurt.
And now, Delaney could potentially be in danger.
My stomach churned. This was what happened when you let people in. When you let yourself love someone and that love made you tear your walls down.
I had half a mind to call Kel, apologize, and tell him that “no risk, no reward” was the stupidest Hallmark bullshit ever invented.
I tried calling Delaney again, but once again, fucking voicemail.
I was closer to panicking than I’d been in a long time, and a part of my brain knew I was being unreasonable—he was an hour late at most, he hadn’t given a specific time in the first place, I had no evidence he was in danger—but I also knew it wasn’t the facts that were making me panic.
It was the knowledge that I, a man who’d loved nothing more than solitude, who’d kept nearly every relationship in his life at a surface level for years because that was easier and safer, had somehow given my heart to another human being.
Delaney Monroe was right now walking around—Jesus, please let him be walking around—with my heart beating inside his chest right next to his own.
His hurts were my hurts. His frustrations were my frustrations. His sorrow was my sorrow.
How the fuck were you supposed to cope with that? How did you just accept that you were vulnerable, 24/7 for the rest of your life, and continue on drinking coffee and building cabinets and eating croissants?
Teeny whined softly, reminding me that while I was having an existential panic, she probably needed to pee.
I grabbed my coat.
Standing in the backyard, I tried to calm down and breathe, but I couldn’t. Now that my walls had crumbled, I didn’t know how to compartmentalize. I felt like a tiny boat lost in a sea of emotions—bobbing on tides of fear and anger, nearly swamped by waves of love.
The night was cold but clear—not a single cloud to be found—and through the spindly winter tree branches, moonlight glittered on the snowy lake. Above, a billion tiny stars spilled across the inky blue sky in random, patternless splotches that humans had spent centuries trying to neatly organize into pictures so they could find some sense of order and meaning in them. So they could feel like they were in control.
But as my dog turned herself into a snow angel in the lingering patches of icy snow, I finally managed a deep breath and remembered something Bennett Graham, the owner of the Observatory House across the lake, had said to me once.
“The most important thing to know about stars, Brew, is that they shine brighter when you’re stargazing with someone you love.”
At the time, I’d thought he was a total sap—frankly, I still thought that, and so did anyone who’d ever seen him with Theo—but now I wondered if maybe he had it right.
There were a lot of things in the universe you couldn’t control. Stars. Fathers. Random, ridiculous camper fires. A world that could be so callous about your love you needed to hide the evidence away in a jam cupboard for decades.
But building walls to protect yourself didn’t stop you from being hurt. It sure as fuck wouldn’t make the world more fair and right.
All it got you was a solitary life in a camper without the brave, prickly man you loved.
And that was no kind of life for me. Not anymore.
Not when Delaney’s triumphs could be my triumphs, and his joys could be my joys.
“Teeny,” I called. “Get over here. We’re going to find Delaney.”
I would call his sister, the police, and my father, in that order. I’d drive to Southbourne and take the town apart brick by brick if I had to.
And then I’d tell the man I loved that I fucking loved him, because the fear of being honest was nothing in comparison to the fear of living without him.
But it turned out I didn’t have to search for Delaney, because the moment I walked inside, a key turned in the front door.
Delaney was home.