Chapter 11
Collin
I manage to catch Thayden as he reaches his car.
“How big of a problem are we talking?” I call. “With the buyers, I mean.”
He turns and leans on the side of a powder-blue Bronco. I’ve never seen this car before. But then, Thayden always likes new toys. He probably paid for this one just from our family’s retainer.
“Well, the two buyers who seemed primed to make offers now have cold feet. I got messages from two different potential buyers this morning saying that there were ‘concerns’ about the gym’s reputation, given the online chatter.”
I groan and rock back on my heels, rubbing my eyes. When I glance back at the diner, I don’t see Molly following. Which is good, because I don’t particularly want her hearing all of this. I’d have loved for her not to know any of it, honestly, but Thayden already ruined that.
“And you honestly think”—I pause and lower my voice even though no one is nearby—“fake dating and having Molly post publicly will help? Is that our only play?”
“I think if Liza stops posting, this could clear up on its own,” Thayden says carefully. “But she seems to enjoy the attention.”
“She absolutely does.”
“And she’s definitely getting attention in spades.
So, I don’t see her stopping anytime soon.
It’s honestly silly to me that social media has any bearing on business in this way, but with a large portion of the demographic your gym attracts being younger people who happen to be chronically online, I see where the buyers are coming from.
They have only Liza’s narrative to work from.
And while I don’t want you to go on and start replying to comments or creating your own rebuttals, staying silent and waiting it out might have been a misstep. ”
Because my original intent was to work with professional or collegiate athletes—serious athletes—at first, Grit attracted a fair number of football and basketball and baseball players from University of Texas.
They came for the training. Which in turn brought a whole lot of people who came because they wanted to cross paths with those athletes.
I don’t doubt that most of them are on social media. They’ve probably seen what Liza said. With no other possible narrative to counter her words.
I absolutely understand why the interested parties are … not so sure they’re interested now.
Years ago, I couldn’t have imagined wanting to sell. Now, I’m sitting here with a sinking feeling in my gut hearing that I might be stuck with it. It’s like hearing the sound of a door closing on what felt like freedom.
Which is such a stark contrast to the elation I felt when I first purchased the space. My family and I held a little celebration in the empty lobby, and Pat cut himself after breaking a champagne bottle on the wall.
“What were you thinking?” Tank demanded, shaking his head.
“I thought we could christen it,” Pat explained, while Harper pressed a towel to his bleeding hand. “You know—like they do with ships.”
James had been the one to say, “Well, now it’s christened in blood.”
And I’m not sure what it says about our family, but we all laughed. Tank did so until tears ran down his cheeks.
Those happy early memories make me smile, but they don’t make me reconsider. The only thing I feel when thinking about selling the gym is massive relief.
Based on comparable sales, I should clear enough to pay back my family’s investments and walk away with something.
Not as much as if I waited a few more years to sell.
But considering how many businesses fail outright or remain in the red for years, I’m happy it’s not a loss.
With what I’ll have left after paying back my family, combined with my savings, I’ll have enough to do something with the land Tank bought me.
If I can figure out what that something is.
So far, I’ve got nothing. Which doesn’t bother me so much as excite me. I like possibilities and open roads. Or, I guess, open fields. Maybe once I have the gym off my hands, I’ll remove some mental and emotional weight.
Not all, but it’s a start.
Now, I just need to get the buyers back.
“I just … I don’t know how I feel about all of this,” I say. “Pretending to date is like lying. And all of this started with Molly lying during a job interview. That’s a red flag. I’m not sure I want to wade into these waters.”
I can’t believe I’m even considering it, honestly. My moral compass seems to have lost true north. It’s spinning in circles, which is just par for my life right now.
Thayden nods, looking thoughtful as he drags a hand over his trim beard. “Usually I’d agree with you about the lying being a red flag. Especially after Liza.” He pauses. “Not that I’m excusing it, but did Molly have a good reason for needing the job so badly?”
I frown, remembering what she said about her father last night. She didn’t reveal much, but enough to make me think she was in a vulnerable position and that this job was the only way out.
“Maybe,” I say. “Do you know much about Chase and Molly’s family?”
Thayden shakes his head. “Chase doesn’t mention them.
I mean, I don’t hang out with him as often as I see you and your brothers.
I met his parents at Abby and Zane’s wedding but didn’t hold much of a conversation with either.
Molly is the only member of his family I’ve ever heard Chase talk about. Why?”
“Just something Molly said.” I don’t feel like giving Thayden details, and I’m not sure I have any to give. Just a hunch that there’s more to why Molly wants to stay here. “Anyway, if we do this, what kind of stuff would we have to post online?”
Thayden smiles. “I think I’d ask your girlfriend—sorry, fake girlfriend—on that. She seems to have a pretty good handle on things. A hard launch sooner than later, for sure.”
“‘Hard launch’?” Thayden has a few years on me, but I swear, sometimes he makes me feel like an old man.
He laughs as he climbs into his Bronco. “Molly can explain that to you also. Have fun. I can’t wait to watch.”
The idea of Thayden watching a video with me in it makes me feel really weird. Guess I’d better get used to the thought since Molly’s million followers will be watching too.
Thayden starts to pull away from the curb but rolls down the window and leans out. “Collin—one more thing.”
I wait for what I’m sure will be something I’d rather not hear. Especially as I see Molly exit the diner with a to-go cup. She sees me and heads my way, tripping a little over the too-big flip-flops I let her borrow. The sight makes me smile.
“As your lawyer, here’s my advice,” Thayden says. “Sit down with Molly. Make some rules and expectations. Talk about what you’re comfortable with. Get on the same page. Otherwise … one or both of you are likely to end up hurt.”
“We won’t get hurt if it’s not real.” Even as the words leave my mouth, they feel wrong.
“Keep telling yourself that, buddy. I can assure you from experience that you’re wrong.” Something about Thayden’s expression is a little too smug, a little too knowing as he pulls away.
I’m still standing there, watching his taillights disappear when Molly reaches me. “Everything okay?” she asks.
No, everything is not okay. “As okay as it can be.”
She looks like she wants to say something more but then shakes her head. Pulling out her phone, she starts walking off without giving me another look. “I’ve got to go. My brother won’t stop spamming me with messages. I’ll see you later?”
I nod, thinking about Thayden’s words and how Molly and I should have a conversation to hash all this out. I should ask her to have dinner with me, but she seems eager to go.
To get away from me? Away from Thayden’s idea?
I open my mouth to call her name, then chicken out, and we go our separate ways.
I’m not sure what draws me toward Dark Horse that night. Probably loneliness. I’m not as much of an extrovert as Pat, who might expire if he were ever forced into solitary confinement of some kind, but since saying goodbye to Molly after breakfast, I haven’t seen or talked to her.
Though it shouldn’t make me feel stupidly lonely, it does.
It’s been a while since I’ve stepped through the doors at the brewery and bar.
Though I’m proud of what my older brother built, I don’t have the least interest in how beer is made.
As for drinking, my brothers and I do tend to congregate at Backwoods Bar.
Not because Dark Horse doesn’t have a good vibe—it’s actually fantastic and busy most nights.
I’m sure if it didn’t belong to my brother, we’d be here all the time.
But out there at Wolf’s unofficial bar, we don’t have to be on.
We’re never not the Grahams, but at Backwoods, we can be the low-key, real versions of ourselves.
“Looking for James?” Winnie asks with a smile. She’s seated at the end of the bar, laptop screen reflected in her glasses. Kyoko, Winnie’s friend and one of James’s employees, waves from behind the counter. “He’s in the back. Doing James things.”
The Sheet Cake Festival ended yesterday, which means the brewery is about half-full instead of standing room only the way it’s been for days.
A relief. I know it’s good for the town, and the extra tourism is good for what my father is trying to build here, but I prefer the town at its normal capacity.
Small. Quiet. Quirky bordering on a little weird. But isn’t that the nature of small towns?
“So, James is doing James things, and you’re doing Winnie things?” I gesture to the detailed spreadsheet on her screen.
“Someone’s got to run this place,” she says. Her voice holds a teasing note, but I know it’s true. James has told me as much, but he doesn’t need to.