Chapter 17
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
LINCOLN
The bar always felt different before opening. There wasn’t the low thrum of music or the steady hum of voices. No clatter of glasses, no rowdy laughter, no chaos. Just the sunlight filtering through the tall front windows, shining a spotlight on the four of us.
Like we’d done a hundred times before, my brothers and I had all claimed our usual spots.
Atlas sat at the end of the bar, coffee cup in front of him.
Xander was a couple stools down, the ledger spread out as he pored over it.
Declan reclined in his high-backed stool, his booted feet kicked up on a chair as he demolished a donut.
I stood behind the bar, towel slung over my shoulder, arms crossed as I leaned back against the counter.
Our little family ritual—the Steele version of church.
And today, I had something to confess.
I’d been putting this off for far too long. Shoving it aside and figuring it could wait for another day. At least while I’d been the only one suffering.
But after the past couple weeks of watching my wife work herself to the bone while stubbornly refusing to ask for help, and then witnessing one of her severe pain flares in action, I’d hit my breaking point.
Whether she asked for my help or not, I wasn’t going to leave her to handle shit on her own anymore.
I cleared my throat. “We need to talk about the bar.”
All three of them lifted their gazes to mine, their unspoken questions hanging in the air.
Finally, Declan broke the silence. “What? Mabel finally talk you into hosting strip karaoke?”
I huffed out a laugh and shook my head. “Not quite. Though she tried. Twice.”
“What is it?” Xander asked, getting straight to the point.
I took a deep breath and glanced to each of them in turn. “We need to make some changes around here.”
Atlas’s gaze was steady on me, as unflinching as always. “What kinds of changes?”
“The same thing I’ve been talking about for a year.” I blew out a deep exhale. “I can’t keep devoting all my time here. Not anymore.”
“Because of the farm?” Xander asked.
“Because of Willa,” I corrected. “She’s too fucking stubborn to admit that she can’t do it all on her own. And god fucking forbid she ask for help. She could be on her literal deathbed and still be trying to do it all on her own. She’s drowning—”
“And you’re not about to let your wife sink,” Atlas interrupted as he settled back in his stool, arms crossed.
I shook my head. “Not if I can do something to stop it.”
“Okay, well…” Xander split a glance between Atlas and Declan before turning back to me. “What does this look like? Lay it on us.”
I braced my hands on the counter and met each of their unwavering stares. “I want to promote Tasha to manager. She’s already been working that role for months when one of us isn’t here. She deserves the title and the raise that comes with it. And I deserve a break.”
I held my breath, waiting for their arguments. Atlas would raise concerns about promoting someone who wasn’t in the family, Xander would pull out the books and say we didn’t have enough cash flow, and Declan would throw a wrench in the whole thing with some kind of bullshit.
Instead, silence descended. Long enough that I damn near choked on it.
Finally, Atlas grunted. “She in today?”
That…wasn’t what I expected.
I cleared my throat. “Yeah. After lunch.”
“Sounds like a good time to do it,” Xander said, taking a sip of his coffee like we were talking about the weather and not changing the structure of our family business. “You think her wife is gonna be okay with her taking on this responsibility? I don’t want Robyn on my ass.”
“Um. Yeah…” I said slowly, still waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Tash mentioned they’re saving to buy a house, so this’ll be welcome.”
Declan raised a brow. “This mean we all get fewer shifts?”
“No, dumbass.” I reached to smack him upside the head, but he dodged me with a low chuckle. “Just me. I don’t see any of you fuckers pulling sixty-hour weeks behind the bar.”
Dec shrugged and shoved the rest of his donut into his mouth. “Fair enough.”
“Wait…that’s it?” I asked.
The corner of Atlas’s mouth twitched—Brick Wall’s version of a beaming smile. “Seems like you were waiting for a fight.”
“Maybe because that’s all I’ve gotten every other time I’ve brought this up?”
Atlas lifted one giant shoulder. “Well, you’re not going to get one this time.”
“Seriously?”
The three of them exchanged a glance so quick, I would’ve missed it if I’d blinked.
Xander dipped his chin in a nod. “Seriously.”
“I’ve been trying to get you three to agree with this for a fucking year,” I said, eyeing each of them. “And now you’re all just suddenly good with it?”
“Yeah, well, you suddenly got yourself a wife.” Xander shared a look with Atlas and shrugged. “Things change.”
His meaning was crystal clear when Atlas grunted his agreement—they’d both had their lives shifted dramatically in the past year.
First Atlas when Sutton and Laurel had moved in to town, right in his backyard.
And then Xander when he had not one but two bombshells land in his lap—his four-year-old daughter he hadn’t known about and the supposed-to-be-temporary nanny who’d made the three of them a family.
“You’ve been holding this place together on your own for years, Linc.” Atlas braced his forearms on the bar top and leaned forward, leveling me with a steady gaze. “About fucking time you get a break if you want one.”
For a second, I couldn’t speak. Which, for me, was saying something. I could only stare at them, my throat tightening without my permission.
Finally, my voice coming out rough, I said, “You all feeling okay? Is someone dying? Because this level of emotional maturity from the Steele men is…unsettling, to say the least.”
Atlas snorted, Xander flipped me off, and something in my chest eased for the first time in a while.
I turned to Declan, who’d been uncharacteristically quiet. “What about you?”
He tipped his chair back, his arms crossed, expression completely unreadable. “You’re the one who’s been stuck here.”
“I haven’t been stuck here. I love this place.” I ran my hand over the worn, scuffed wood of the bar. “Always have.”
“But you love something else more right now,” Atlas said, his voice steady and sure. “And she needs you.”
His words hit me harder than I expected, that four-letter word in regard to Willa landing like a bomb. But that was exactly what everyone was supposed to think—that I was head over heels in love with my wife and putting her first.
I was playing my role well, apparently.
“Yeah. She does.”
“How bad is it, really?” Atlas asked. “With the farm.”
My jaw tightened as I recalled exactly how hard Willa was working, day in and day out. And she was mostly on her own because the only workers she could afford were high schoolers who weren’t exactly known for their reliability.
“Bad,” I said. “She’s been holding it together with sheer will alone, but she’s paying for it. I wouldn’t be surprised if the whole thing crumbled with one missed step.”
Xander’s brow furrowed. “And she won’t ask for help?”
“Fuck no.” I shook my head, jaw flexing as I thought of just how much pain she’d been in the other day. So much so, she’d taken it easy yesterday, and that had been all I needed to know. “She’d rather break her back than admit she can’t do it alone. And I’m afraid she’s actually going to.”
Atlas folded his hands together and leaned forward.
“Laurel needs a fuck-ton of service hours before graduation. Helping a local business would count. She’d be a shitshow with anything public-facing, but you know she’s a good kid.
And she’d show up when she’s supposed to and work hard.
As long as Willa wouldn’t have a problem with a surly, sarcastic teenager who says ‘fuck’ too much. ”
I pictured Laurel stomping through the fields, eyes rolling as she and Willa bitched and bonded over the idiots they didn’t have time for. “She’s going to kill one of us for this.”
“Which she are you talking about?” Xander asked.
I cringed, thinking of how my wife was going to respond to this. “Both of them.”
“I can’t wait to watch,” Declan said, popping another donut into his mouth.
“Separately, I think we can probably take either of them.” Atlas ran a hand over his beard, brow furrowed. “If they team up, though, we’re fucked.”
Snorts and murmurs of agreement went up all around because that much was definitely true—those two together would be a tornado of hellfire.
“We can help too, you know,” Xander said. “Dec might need any instruction spelled out in crayon so he can catch on—”
“Oh, fuck you.” Declan kicked Xander’s chair, but there was a smirk curving his lips.
Xander’s mouth twitched before he turned serious again. “I’m just saying, we can step in. No one in the family drowns on our watch.”
I glanced at each of my brothers—Atlas, always steady. Xander, thorough and thoughtful. Declan, perpetually pretending not to care but paying attention more than anyone realized.
In the face of their unwavering support, I realized just how fiercely I’d been preparing for a pushback that never came. They weren’t just fine with me stepping back. They were ready to step up to help to make sure everything was handled. Because that was what family did.
And, whether this marriage was real or not, Willa was now included in that.