22. Chord
twenty-two
Chord
67 DAYS TILL HOCKEY SEASON
Izzy’s game night is more like a game marathon. It kicks off at two p.m. and doesn’t finish until well after dark and the little hostess has been asleep for a full twenty minutes.
We tried to wrap it up twice already—once as soon as her eyes started to drift closed, and again when she’d been out for thirty seconds. Both times, she shot upright like she’d been poked with a blunt stick and demanded another round of cards or charades or Monopoly. And we complied every time. Even Daisy, who looks like she’d rather have her head in a toilet.
I’m not the only one this little girl has wrapped around her finger.
We’re in the living room in the main house—the house we all grew up in, and the house that Charlie, Dylan, and Izzy live in now. And Daisy, I suppose, though I’m not sure how long she plans to stay.
Not much about this place has changed in the last twenty years. The polished oak furniture has been wearing divots in the carpet since before I was born, and the gray wool is clean but old. Mom’s first-edition books, vintage teacups, and family photographs are still on the shelves. Dad’s armchair still sits empty.
When I walked in here today for the first time in years, Charlie, Finn, Dylan, and Daisy were already sprawled out in the spots they’d claimed twenty-plus years ago, and it was like I’d stepped out of a time machine. Forgotten memories and old grief sapped the oxygen from the room before a wistful warmth burst inside my chest, carrying with it a simple one-word thought. Home .
That was hours ago, and it’s been dark outside for an hour by the time Dylan scoops Izzy off the sofa. Her tiny frame is lost in a cloud of lime green tulle, her feet are stuffed into a pair of fluffy white bunny slippers, and her long, dark plait dangles over the curve of Dylan’s forearm.
“Do you need a hand?” I ask as I leave my seat on the rug and get to my feet.
“Nah. We’re fine. I’ll take her to bed and come back to help you guys clean up.”
“I’ve got it.” Charlie leaps from her place at the end of the sofa, then collects a half-empty bowl of popcorn in one hand and a couple of empty tumblers in the other. “You have an early start at the restaurant tomorrow. Take care of Izzy, then head to bed yourself.”
Dylan looks around the room. “Are you sure?”
He’s got to be thinking the same thing I am. It looks like a glitter bomb has gone off in here. Izzy—with Finn as her accomplice—decorated the place with balloons, streamers, and confetti in six shades of pink. Tidying up will take forever.
“I’m sure.” Charlie waves him off and rounds the sofa, nudging a dozing Daisy as she passes. “Daze will help me.”
Dylan snorts as he disappears up the stairs, and Daisy rolls over, turns her back to the room, and makes a whining sound. She’s so freaking hungover. It’s hilarious.
“ Daze is in too much pain to do anything,” she moans, wriggling around like she can’t get comfortable, then reaching behind her to switch off the lamp on the side table. “There.” She curls in on herself with a satisfied smile. “That’s better.”
Charlie rolls her eyes. “Finn?”
Finn’s slouched in an armchair and scrolling through something on his phone, which he immediately tucks away before bounding to his feet. He gives Charlie a kiss on the cheek and is halfway to the door when he replies, “Can’t. Leave it, and I’ll do it tomorrow.”
Charlie stares at the front door as it swings closed behind our brother.
“Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll do it myself.”
Charlie disappears into the hallway, and I snatch up a stack of plates and a handful of dirty napkins before following. She’s at the sink when I enter the old but tidy kitchen, so I set the dirty dishes in the soapy suds and step back.
“Thanks,” she mutters under her breath.
“No problem.”
“You don’t need to hang around, you know.” Charlie yanks open the dishwasher and starts loading it. “I can clean up. I’m sure you’ve got things you need to do tonight.”
I check my watch. It’s nearly ten o’clock. If I leave now, I might get a moment with Violet before she goes to bed.
I imagine her face when she found my note on the fridge. When she read our texts, and then when she listened to my voice message.
I realized last night that when it comes to Violet, I’ve given up any hope of stone-cold self-control, and I don’t even care. I like who I am with her. She reminds me of the guy I used to be. A younger Chord who trusted people and had fun and loved without regret. Before money and fame and betrayal changed things.
But as much as I miss her tonight, Violet is the reason I don’t rush back to my house. These past few weeks on the ranch have made me more certain than ever that this is where I want to be when I retire. And while I don’t need Charlie’s permission to do it, I don’t want to move back while there’s this tension between us. I need to fix whatever’s broken between my sister and me. I want to do better. I want to be better.
“I don’t mind hanging around a bit longer,” I tell her.
She shrugs but doesn’t look my way. “Whatever you want.”
I go back and forth between the living room and the kitchen, quietly clearing away all evidence of game night. There’s not much I can do about the confetti without pulling out the vacuum cleaner, but I sneak upstairs with the balloons and quietly load them into Izzy’s room, hoping it’ll be a fun surprise for her when she wakes.
I return to the kitchen one last time, lifting the last bowl to my mouth and tipping the final crumbs of the Pretzel M&M’s onto my tongue. I offer the empty dish to Charlie, who accepts it with a tiny smile and a shake of her head before stowing it in the dishwasher. “I can’t believe those are still your favorite.”
I lean back on the counter and cross my arms over my chest, my legs at the ankles. “I can’t believe you still only eat plain.”
She shrugs and programs the machine, still finding excuses not to look at me. “Original. Classic. Dependable.”
I nod. “Respectable.”
“Exactly.”
There’s an awkward silence, and I’m looking for the right words to start a meaningful conversation when Charlie speaks first.
“I guess I’ll call it a night, then.” She dries her hands on a dish towel and tosses it on the counter.
“Wait.”
She pauses with her body half turned from me, then shifts around and lifts her chin, finally meeting my eyes.
I take a long breath. I’m not an anxious person. I’m an arrogant asshole with too much money and a reputation that encourages people to make my life easy, but Charlie… Charlie makes me nervous.
“I’m looking at apartments in the city tomorrow. Three of them to start. I’m pretty sure one of them will be good enough for the season, so I’ll be out of your hair come September.”
“Oh.” Charlie shifts her feet and stares at her bare toes as they brush along the smooth, pale, hardwood floor. “Good. I mean, you know. Good for you.”
“Yeah.” I rub the back of my neck. “But Charlie…”
Her arms snake across her chest, and she lifts her chin like she’s anticipating a fight.
“I can’t play forever, and I reckon I’ve got two good years left in me—tops. I built my house here for a reason, and that reason was my retirement. You have to know I plan to come home once I’m done with hockey.”
Her eyes flash, and her spine straightens. “You can’t take this place from me. I won’t let you.”
I frown and wait for my brain to catch up, but a few moments later, I’m still not sure what this is about.
“I don’t want to take Silver Leaf from you,” I reply. “I want to be part of it with you. I want to make a life here. I want to help you.”
She chokes back a bitter laugh. “Because I need your help? I’m doing such a lousy job as CEO that we need you to swoop in and save it?”
“No.” I push off the counter, taking a step closer as she takes a step back. “Because this is my home. This is where I want to be. And maybe if you weren’t carrying so much of the burden, the ranch could grow a little.”
She shakes her head and narrows her eyes. “I knew it.”
“Knew what? This ranch is too much for one person to manage alone. Mom and Dad couldn’t have done it without each other, and Dad couldn’t have done it without you after Mom died. It’s not a failure to admit that running a business this complex requires more than one person doing all the management stuff.”
“I’ve got Dylan—”
“Who runs the restaurant and the event catering. Not to mention, he’s raising a little girl all by himself. He does enough.”
Charlie blinks. She knows I’m right. She’s also not going to admit it. “Daisy just got back.”
“And I’m sure she’ll be a big help, but once we’ve got horses again, it’ll be a full-time job caring for them and running the trail rides. Assuming she sticks around, that is.”
“Finn’s not going anywhere.”
That’s news to me—good news—but not good enough to win Charlie the argument. Finn’s an asset to the ranch, but he’s not about to pitch in with inventory or account management or employee relations or business development. Finn isn’t a leader, and Charlie knows that as well as I do.
“And what’s he going to do?” I ask.
“I don’t know. I’ll find him something.”
“So why can’t you find something for me, too?”
Charlie throws up her hands. “Oh, my God, Chord. Are you serious? Fine. I need someone to pull weeds in the—”
“Charlotte.”
“What?”
I inhale deeply and release a loud, measured exhale. Charlie might be our CEO, and our siblings might make their own contributions to operations, but the ranch has a solid team behind it, and most of our employees have been with us long enough to remember Mom and Dad. Oscar—our lead winemaker. Lillian—who manages hospitality and accommodations. Bryan—head of the farm team and seasonal hires. Sonya—the tasting room manager.
On top of that, we run an organic operation. Weeds are taken care of by a flock of freaking sheep.
“I’m coming home, Charlie, whether you like it or not, but I’d rather do it with your blessing. Let me be someone you can rely on. Someone who can share the load.”
Charlie’s eyes flash with rage. “Where were you when Mom died, and Dad needed someone to share the load ?”
I can’t believe she’s asking me this. I thought she understood.
“That was ten years ago. I was at the top of my game in Tampa. I couldn’t just walk away.”
“And where were you two years later when Dad passed?”
“The trade with Calgary was too fresh. You know that.”
“And when Isobel was born, and I was here without you, without Finn, without Daisy, and almost without Dylan because he was struggling to figure out how to be a single father—where were you then?”
I grit my teeth. “I can’t just walk away from my life, Charlotte. I’ve worked as hard for my career as you have for yours. Sacrificed just as much. And I’ve tried to give you money over and over and over again, but you refuse to take it.”
She scoffs. “You want me to take your money to soothe your guilty conscience.”
I blink back the hurt. “That’s not fair.”
Charlie rolls her lips and pales a little. “Maybe not, but life hasn’t been fair to me either. It’s been hard, and I’ve worked through it all. Alone—and fine, without much to show for it—but it’s all I’ve got. And at least you go to sleep at night knowing you made Mom and Dad proud.”
Tears spring up in her bright blue eyes, and my throat grows tight. I raise a hand in her direction. “Charlie—”
“Forget it.” She raises her palms to fend me off. “I can’t stop you from coming home. I can’t stop you from loading your money into this place and saving it from me, but I won’t tell you it’s okay. It won’t erase all the years you weren’t here. I’m not Mom or Dad. You don’t get a free pass. Not this time.”
I only notice she’s still in her Silver Leaf uniform—black shirt, dark jeans, boots—as I watch her stride from the room and rush up the stairs.
I stare into nothing and think about what she said. Did I try to give Charlie money because I felt guilty about not being here? Maybe… but it just never felt that nuanced to me. My family had a problem, it caused pain for the people I loved, and money could fix it. I could fix it. I didn’t give any thought to what offers of cash would look like to Charlie or what she thought they meant. I didn’t think I had to. My motivations weren’t that complicated.
I run a frustrated hand through my hair. I’ve screwed up a lot of things in my life—my career, my captaincy, my romantic relationships, my family—but for the first time in as long as I can remember, the weight of each of those things doesn’t tip the scales the way they used to.
I think about Violet and the things she’s given up for her father. I don’t agree with it, I don’t approve of it, but right now, I’m closer to understanding it.