Chapter 14
FUNNY HOW LIFE WORKS
There’s no question, Faye is talented. Not even an hour into meeting with the Cuthill’s, and Faye painted a vision of what could be that had not only Mrs. Cuthill salivating, but Mr. Cuthill signing costly contracts. Their project is now set to begin in three weeks’ time.
Watching her work—watching the passion that hadn’t been there in our youth—it was something to see.
I recall Faye struggling with her purpose when she was mine. Foolishly, I told myself it didn’t matter because I’d be successful enough for both of us. Now, I realize how much of an asshole I was for thinking like that.
The thought crosses my mind that maybe that’s why she left me. Because I never encouraged her to find her spark. I just thought she’d be happy to share mine.
It’s not that I didn’t want her to have a spark, a passion. I just figured she was one of those people who maybe never found theirs. I thought—I hoped—delusionally I see now, that she was happy just being mine.
Her phone chimes and she digs into her purse. There’s a moment where something hot and angry splits open inside me, because I wonder if it might be Tanner texting her.
I knew when I saw dark jealousy in his pretty-boy blue eyes this morning when he caught me standing a little too close to Faye, that my reason for coming here wasn’t just to help Dad like I liked to tell myself.
In fact, it had a whole lot more to do with the fact Tanner was sniffing around Faye—Dad’s words, not mine.
Still, obviously true, considering the asshole asked her out in front of me.
I’m a man, so I know his play. When it comes down to it, men are animals like all the rest. Our instincts are basic. Primal.
He wants her and he made a point of pissing on the territory he’s obviously trying to claim this morning. Too bad for him, I have very little respect for the rules of the games men play. Because in my mind, until she’s sleeping in his bed and wearing his ring, she’s fair fucking game.
Faye makes a noise of exhausted distress. Now, I’m grinning that it could be Tanner.
“That your boyfriend?”
Her eyes snap to mine. Hell, but they’re just as pretty and warm now as they were a lifetime ago.
“I don’t have a boyfriend.”
“Didn’t look that way to me this morning.”
Her head falls back against the seat as she drops her hands into her lap. Her phone chimes again.
She flips it to read the text. “It’s Owen.”
There’s a rattle in her voice that has all thoughts of Tanner vanishing. Worry for her—for my nephew—barrel into the forefront of my mind.
“What’s going on?”
I know I’m onto something when she bites down on her lip to stop the quiver before casting her gaze out the passenger window of my truck.
“I wanted him to stay home today, but he said he’d be fine.”
Tension coils in my gut. My hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Why would you want him to stay home?”
Why wouldn’t he be fine?
“They’re, uh—” She slaps her phone gently against her palm. “Remember how we used to go on that nature walk every year?”
“Yeah.”
“It’s—well—it’s not far from where…”
“Fuck.” I wince as soon as it registers.
She nods stiltedly. “Yeah.”
I swallow against the burn in my throat. Suddenly, it feels like Tate is here in the truck with us, sitting between us.
Faye tells me, “He’s saying he doesn’t feel good. I—” Her eyes swing to me and they’re shining bright with water. “I have to pick him up, Holt.”
Just the sound of my name on her lips like that, as much as I hate to admit it, to even consider the truth of it, I’d do anything for this woman. Anything.
I say nothing as I swing my truck into the parking lot of the department store, kicking open the door. “Wait here.”
“Holt?”
“I’ll be right back,” I tell her and swing the door closed.
I haven’t been to a high school in years.
It feels surreal now, sitting here beside Faye.
I recall entering this very building every day with her hand in mine.
My dreams of the future, of her, had seemed so solid then.
So unshakeable. I wouldn’t have hesitated to hold her.
To pull her in close and taste her mouth.
Now, I’m afraid to even steal a graze of her fingertips.
I wouldn’t dare take the hand that clutched her phone anxiously in her lap.
It feels like a lifetime has passed.
The main door opens and Owen trudges out. He’s a shade paler than he was that Thursday before Dad’s surgery, which went well. Although he’s recovering fantastically, Mom says he’s being a bit of a wimp about it all. I think he’s just taking advantage of having her to wait on him hand and foot.
Owen climbs into the back seat. No one asks how he’s feeling, and he doesn’t say. There’s more than one kind of sick, and we all know which one Owen’s feeling right now.
I pull away from the curb. I’m not hungry, not with the weight of Tate settled heavily between us all. Still, it’s lunch time and I’m supposed to be an adult, so I ask, “Who likes subs?”
Faye, desperate to soothe her son’s pain, twists in the seat with painted excitement on her face. “Oh, I love subs.”
“Sure,” Owen replies.
“Can we go to the Italian sandwich place?” From my peripheral vision, I can see she’s bouncing in her seat.
I can’t help it. My lips twitch. As angry as I’m trying to be with her—as I want to be with her—I can’t deny she’s adorable.
My eyes flick to the rear-view mirror to land point blank on Owen’s. A get a sharp kick to my heart, because his dark eyes, clearly inherited from Dad’s side, saw that reluctant grin. The kid sees more than his mother thinks he sees. I’ll have to be cautious around him.
I clear my throat. “Never been to the Italian sandwich place.”
“Mom loves it,” Owen tells me. I can still feel his eyes burning into me from where he watches me in the mirror.
I don’t reply. We get our sandwiches and I drive to the park. I pull the ball I bought on my quick trip to the department store from the bag. I don’t miss Faye’s sharp inhale as I slam the truck door, ball under my arm. I avoid the woman and look to her kid.
His jaw is hard, and his eyes are dark and watchful. There’s a bit of a shadow under them that twists the blade of grief that lodged itself in my heart fourteen months ago when I first got the call.
I give the ball a spin on my finger, earning myself a reluctant grin.
“Feel like kicking it around with me?”
“Don’t you play hockey?”
“Hey.” I do the only trick I know with a soccer ball and nearly mess it up, but it’s worth it because Owen laughs.
The kid’s got a good laugh. Solid and real, if a touch pained.
A little rusty. “I can hold my own, kid. Besides, all I gotta do is kick it in the right direction.” I poke at him, sensing a lightening in his mood.
“Hockey is where the real challenge is at.”
Challenge rolls through Owen’s eyes. It’s a good look on him. “All right, old man. Let’s see what you got.”
I’ve always loved sports and I’ve kicked around my fair share of balls with Tate in summer’s past, trying to pass the time. Owen gives me a run for my money, though, I’ll admit. He’s not taking it easy on me. And I don’t dare take it easy on him.
“For a hockey player, you’re not half bad,” Owen says as he runs his hand through his hair before snatching the ball from the ground.
We’ve both worked up a sweat, and I’m momentarily jarred by the action.
Tate was always the soccer player, and right now, seeing Owen like he is, it’s the first time I think the kid looks like his dad.
It’s a cool reminder of how fucked up life can turn in the blink of an eye.
My gaze drags to Faye, as though pulled by some magnetic force I have no hope of fighting. While I can’t deny there’s anger and hurt simmering in the depths of me, there’s something else, too. Something I’ve been working to turn off, to shut down, for the last thirteen, nearly fourteen years.
Weeks stand between this family my brother had—and the family I could have, should have had.
I scrub my hand down my face and do my best to shove those dark thoughts into the deepest, darkest pit I can find.
I spent the entirety of this kid’s life hating my brother.
Now that he’s gone, and he’s left Owen and Mabel behind—now that I know them—I can’t make myself regret the union that created them.
Because the reality is that if life had turned out in my favor, and Faye had stayed mine, they wouldn’t exist.
Faye pulls Owen’s sandwich from the bag and hands it to him.
She’s stretched out on a patch of grass in the sun, her heels kicked off, moving her toes through the blades of green.
She’s always been a nature girl. I don’t know why I thought I could pluck her from the mountains and dump her in a concrete city and she’d be happy. I was a fool.
I lower to the ground closer to Owen than her. It’s not entirely that I don’t want to sit close to her. But if I did, I’m afraid I’d find some reason to touch her.
“So, Uncle Holt, why didn’t you come around when Dad was alive?”
The question steals my air. I choke on my sandwich.
“Owen,” Faye warns.
“It’s cool.” I manage, waving Faye off. I clear my throat and consider bullshitting the kid. But then I meet his eyes. Dark and knowing and demanding the weight of the truth. I study him for a solid beat, taking in the square set of his shoulders.
I decide to let him carry the weight, even as I give it to him gently. “I was pissed off and hurt.” I don’t drop his eyes, even as I can feel Faye’s burning into me. “For a long time, I felt your dad stole the life that was meant to be mine. I let those feelings turn me into a fool.”
“You don’t feel that way anymore?” Owen doesn’t move. Doesn’t break eye contact.
Shit, the kid is steady. He gets that from Tate, too.
I give my head a single shake. “Not entirely.”
“Why not?”
I pull in breath. “Life is funny, Owen. In my thirty-two years, I’ve found it rarely works out to plan.”
“Seems like you got everything you ever wanted. You’re famous. Rich.”
I give him a smile that, I’ll admit, touches on a grimace. “There’s a lot more to life than money.”
“Only rich people say that.”
“Probably because rich people don’t have people who matter.” I take a bite of my sandwich. “We’re so focused on the next goal that the people we love, the families we could have made, they slip through our fingers.”
Owen nods like he gets me. I’m not sure anyone who hasn’t lived my life can.
“So, you don’t hate Dad anymore?”
“I never hated him.” I don’t realize it’s the truth until now.
I cock a grin that aches a bit. “It all comes back to that funny life path that never works out the way you suspect. If Tate didn’t steal my girl, you and Mabel never would have existed.
” I take another big bite. I don’t even taste it.
“You’re a pretty cool kid, so I’m thinking there’s a plan in there somewhere for you. How can I fault that?”
The smile Owen gives me is more than vulnerable. He needed this. Needed my forgiveness for his father. I regret that I didn’t realize it until now.
I clap the kid on the shoulder and find my gaze drifting to Faye for the first time. The tip of her nose is red and her smile wobbles. She’s trying to hold back her tears.
My gaze falls to her uneaten sandwich as she shoves it back into the bag. She stands, grabs her shoes and calls over her shoulder as she walks, barefoot to my truck. “Let’s get a move on boys. I’ve got work to do.”