Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Harrison
It’s been a little over a week since the fundraiser, and I can’t stop obsessing about Delaney.
Visions of her constantly pop into my head.
To be fair, my thinking about her is nothing new.
The difference is that this time, it’s the expression she wore when she shook her head to tell me she didn’t want me to stop chasing her.
Sure, I’d hoped for a resounding yes and an opportunity to explore whatever this is—these feelings—that are making me so uncharacteristically preoccupied with her.
Her answer wasn’t that, but it also wasn’t no.
I punch in the code to the cabin and step inside. I’m the first one here, so I turn on a light. Damn it, it’s hot in here. I’m turning on the air conditioning when Henry walks in.
“Ugh. One of us should have stopped by earlier to get it cooling,” Henry says.
“Yeah,” I say. “Glad to see you made it on such short notice. I’m pretty sure Holden has never called one of these together before. Kind of weird, right?”
“Yeah, but he’s not been himself lately. Maybe we’ll find out what’s going on tonight.”
Henry grabs four crystal glasses and takes them to the kitchen to rinse them in the sink.
When he brings them back, I fill them with two fingers of Macallan.
It’s the one thing I’ll splurge on—good whiskey.
It’s bittersweet, though, because every time the smooth liquid hits my throat, I think of her—Delaney—and that night months ago I’m certain I’ll never forget.
We sit in our usual seats, and when I place my glass on the end table, I notice a thick layer of dust. I run my finger through it and hold up the evidence to show Henry.
“Gross. No one’s living here, and this much dust accumulates?” Henry looks at my finger and grimaces. “Isn’t dust mostly dead skin cells and other disgusting human stuff?”
Henry fake gags.
“Look at the cobwebs up in the corners.” He uses his head and gestures to a part of the room where they’re particularly bad. “Maybe we should take turns coming to clean. Or hire someone.”
“None of us has time to come keep house somewhere we don’t even live. I guess we could hire someone, or better yet, make Holden move in until his place is ready.”
Henry shakes his head. “Nah, it’s good that he’s staying with Hayden. It’s not a good idea for Hayden to be alone in that big house with only memories of Charlie to keep him company. He’s not there yet.”
“You’re right. I’m still pretty worried about him. We’ve got to keep a better eye on him.”
Henry frowns, and then we sit in silence, sipping the amber liquid and each of us getting lost in his own thoughts.
Within a few minutes, Holden and Hayden show up. Once they settle in their chairs with drinks, Henry glances at Holden and raises his eyebrows.
“Did Mom forgive you for not inviting her to the award ceremony?”
Holden huffs. “Just barely. I had to call the head of our chapter and have him tell her himself that it wasn’t intentional.
I’ll tell you, though—she read him the riot act.
She told him that, in the future, she didn’t ‘give a rat’s ass’ if it was a men-only event.
‘When a man’s winning an award like that, you call his mother and any significant woman in his life and invite them.
’ She had him apologizing by the time we hung up. ”
I chuckle, picturing our mom laying into the guy.
You don’t raise five boys and survive early widowhood without being tough as nails.
That, and you try like hell not to miss any memorable moments.
Yes, there were several bad years after Dad died, but in general, she’s handled life’s challenges like a badass.
“So,” I say, “you wanna tell us why you called us here? Not that I’m complaining—it’s been too long since we hung out here.”
Holden sighs. “Well, I have some pretty devastating news.” I straighten in my seat, bracing myself for whatever it is he’s going to say.
Not again. What’s it going to be this time, universe?
He has all of our attention, and the room is silent except for the whirring of the air conditioner.
“Ella is selling the bakery. Like, imminently.”
Annoyed huffs and groans from the rest of us disturb the initial chilled vibe. In fairness, it’s Holden’s fault for being dramatic and setting his problem up as a crisis when it’s just about fucking pastry.
Hayden’s first to speak. “Don’t you ever listen to her? She’s been talking for over a year about retiring and moving south. You’re there every day, so how do you not know that?”
Holden leans back in his chair, eyes on the ceiling.
“I don’t know. She probably said it, but I blocked it out.
That’s the problem—I go there every morning.
It’s one of the few routines I have, and now she’s selling it.
Who knows what it’ll become—a bar, a general store, or maybe it’ll sit vacant for years.
What am I supposed to do with my mornings?
Where am I going to get my coffee? You know hers is the only coffee I enjoy. ”
His rambling finally stops.
“Christ, Holden,” I mutter, “if you ever want to hang out, just say so. Ella selling the bakery isn’t a big deal.”
“Not to you,” he shoots back. “You barely eat anything your nutritionist doesn’t bless.”
“That’s dramatic,” I say. “I’m careful. You should be, too. Dad was forty-eight when…”
A somber hush falls over the room.
After a moment, Henry clears his throat.
Always the oldest, keeping us grounded. He directs his words at me.
“You’ve heard Mom tell the story. Dad ignored his symptoms for months before the heart attack.
We all get checkups and regular bloodwork.
We’re careful. Except for the occasional donut.
Or ice cream, and a glass or two of extraordinary whiskey.
” He lifts his glass in demonstration, then takes another sip.
Hayden smirks at me. “Ice cream’s your Achilles’ heel.”
“Yeah, okay, but I don’t want to sit here and talk about the bakery anymore,” I mutter.
“You really are a grump,” Hayden says.
I glare at him. “This is the most you’ve talked in months, and it’s just to give me shit?”
“I’m not giving you shit. My wife—the only woman I will ever love—left me, and you’re pissier than I am. Why don’t you lay your crap out so we can talk through it, and you can stop being such an ass?”
I glance at Henry—his mouth is open in shock—then at Holden, who is fighting a smirk.
I rise and walk to the bar, grab the bottle of Macallan, and refill my glass.
Then, because I’m not a total asshole, I set the bottle on the table in case anyone else wants some.
Damned if I’m pouring it for them, though.
Hell, maybe I am crabby.
I plop down into my chair, and stare at the fireplace, even though it’s summer and there isn’t a fire.
Still, it’s a habit to look in that direction.
My brain must know that gazing at the dancing flames usually helps me zone out for a few minutes.
The mesmerizing colors tamp down the perpetual uneasiness and deep regret that reside in me.
The fear that I’ll get lazy or miss a threat, and once again, fail to protect the people I love when they need me.
Holden leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees, and clasps his hands together in front of him. “All right. I didn’t want to do this. I wanted you to think tonight was just about the bakery—and don’t get me wrong, that’s weighing on me—but that’s not why we’re here.”
“Okay, then why?” I snap. I don’t know why I’m annoyed, because I do want to be here with them. I miss this since Henry moved out and into the farmhouse with Tillie.
Holden doesn’t immediately respond, and the tension in the room is palpable. I sense that all eyes are on me. I take my time and study each of their faces, searching their eyes.
Henry’s frowning, and he turns his gaze downward, not looking me in the eye. Hayden still wears his default flat affect. Holden, though, he looks nervous. He’s tapping his foot, yet his upper body is rigid.
Oh, my God. Are they serious right now?
I twist my head toward Henry and glare. “Did you have him bring us together to stage some kind of intervention on me? Really? Way to have my back.”
“It wasn’t him,” Holden cuts in. When I redirect my scowl to him, he says, “It was me.”
I look at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that since the moment Delaney arrived in Aron Falls, you’ve been acting like a weirdo. Don’t deny it. Your behavior at the charity event left no question that something either happened between you two or you’re obsessed with her.”
“I’m not a stalker, for fuck’s sake.” There’s no mistaking the aggravation attached to my words.
I recline in my chair and close my eyes. It’s my way of ending the asinine discussion.
We sit in silence until Holden breaks it. “We know how you think, Harrison. We realize what you’re doing. Sitting there, quiet, like it’ll shut us down, right? It won’t. Not this time.”
A deep sigh escapes me, and I don’t stifle it. Then I open my eyes and force myself to engage in eye contact with Holden.
“Please, enlighten me about how you think you know me. None of you has any idea what goes on in my head.” I’m aware it’s not a fair statement, even as it flows off my tongue.
“Oh, that’s bullshit,” Hayden mutters.
I swear, if I didn’t have a full glass of whiskey, I’d leave. As fast as Hayden tossed out his comment, he glances away and retreats behind his walls.
“Guys, come on,” Henry says softly. “Let’s just hang out, keep it light tonight.”
None of us speaks for several long seconds.
Holden’s words break through the soundlessness again. “Did I ever tell any of you why I enrolled in the mentoring program?”
No one answers.
“It’s not a rhetorical question,” he continues.
Henry frowns. “I always figured it was because of losing Dad. You guys were only eighteen.”
Hayden’s attention returns to our conversation.