Worth the Wait (Sugar Mountain #2)

THE FIVE-YEAR COUNTDOWN

PATRICK

I stood in my dimly lit cellar, staring at the massive wall of wine I’d collected and bought over the last six months. I didn’t even drink the stuff, but my ex-girlfriend, Addison, loved to cook with it and then explain how all the different kinds of grapes flavored the food in subtle but spectacular ways . Those were her words, not mine. Addi was the whole reason I’d built this damn thing in the first place.

It was for her.

Every part of this house was for her, and calling her my ex-girlfriend, if only to myself, made me want to throw up.

Addi and I had always been the serious ones. Our relationship was never off and on or dramatic, like some of our friends. We’d always been stable. We rarely, if ever, fought. And I remembered thinking that nothing could ever break us up or rip our future plans in half.

And then her mom called one night from her ritzy condo in New York City. Apparently, she’d pulled some strings and gotten Addison into a school only a handful of chefs could ever dream of attending. She’d been so happy when she found out the news, until it sank in—what accepting the offer truly meant. That she’d have to leave Sugar Mountain… and me .

I’d understood, of course. If it had come down to a fight of sorts, I would have insisted that she go. Forced her if I had to. But in the end, Addi didn’t take much coercing. The worst part was the way we’d ended things. I wanted to stay together, but she said she didn’t know how long she’d be gone. The program required a two-year commitment, followed by an externship, which could last at least another year.

Even though I’d been extremely busy at my own job at my family’s resort, I figured we could at least try to date long-distance. But Addi insisted that it wouldn’t be fair; to either of us. That we should take the time apart to focus on our careers and whatever else she’d said that followed. Honestly, I blacked out at some point, my whole world spinning out of control at the thought of losing my best friend.

I was tempted to argue with her, but my pride stopped me. So, I let her go because I wasn’t an asshole and it was the right thing to do. I just never thought that she’d stay gone for so long.

It was one thing to leave Sugar Mountain. It was another to never come back again.

In the beginning though , we both insisted that we’d stay in touch, even if it was just through social media channels. But eventually with the time difference and her course load, talking grew infrequent and every social media post of hers felt like a stab in the fucking heart. I couldn’t take it anymore, so I stopped following her and she never even asked why.

I’d been tempted to burn this fucking house and everything in it to the ground more than once since I’d completed it. The only thing that stopped me was the fact that I’d done it all with my mother’s blood money.

I had been sixteen when she died in a car accident, sending our family into a spiral of heartache that spanned so deep that it became a part of our DNA. All that was left of the O’Gradys were a bunch of heartbroken boys who could barely keep their heads above water.

There was some life insurance money that my brothers and I had each gotten a share of once we turned twenty-five. My older brother, Thomas, had bought the house he currently lived in with his daughter, Clarabel, and his girlfriend, Brooklyn, with part of his share. I’d bought this ridiculous plot of land. Far more than I ever needed, but Addi had always loved it. And my younger brother, Matthew, had probably tossed the share he’d just inherited into his already-oversize bank account, thanks to his years of playing professional hockey.

Of the three of us, he needed the money the least. Not that any of us did really. Aside from having well-paying jobs at the Sugar Mountain Resort, we were all also part owners of it. It had been in our family for generations, only getting more popular with each passing season, which was fucking insane to even think about.

But I knew that we’d all give the money back in a heartbeat if it meant that we could spend more time with our mom. I missed her. I missed my Addi. I thought I’d gotten used to the pain, but it always seemed to flare up a little during this time of year. Christmas seemed to hurt the worst.

So, I stood there, staring at the stupid fucking cellar and grabbing two bottles of red, like my brother’s girlfriend and my dad had requested on my way down here. It all tasted like shit, in my opinion, but what did I know? My tastes aligned more with Matthew’s, and we preferred beer.

Plain and simple.

I wondered if Addi was a full-fledged New Yorker now, all big city, bright lights, and craft cocktails. It never sat right with me whenever I thought about her changing like that, but maybe it was true. Maybe I was too small town for her now. Maybe that was why she’d never come back, not even once to visit her dad… or me .

Taking the basement steps two at a time, I rounded the hallway and noticed Thomas’s girlfriend studying something on the wall. I almost dropped the damn bottles when I realized what she was looking at.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to snoop,” Brooklyn said, as if I’d caught her red-handed peeping in my underwear drawer or something. “What kind of calendar is this? A building one?” Her eyes narrowed as she tried to figure out what the countdown on the wall meant.

“Sure,” I said, hoping she’d drop it, but I knew better.

Brooklyn was a woman. They liked to figure things out and ask a ridiculous number of questions until they found what they were looking for.

“Really, what is it? What is it counting down? The wedding barn?” She turned to study it once more. “No, that doesn’t make sense.”

That calendar on the wall was a countdown for my future.

My silent torturer.

I’d read somewhere online that people tried something new for up to five years. They either gave up within that time frame or kept at it. Five years. Addi would either come back home or she never would. It was creeping up on four years without her. And I was running out of time.

I fidgeted, gripping the bottles tight in each hand. “It’s not the barn, Brooklyn. Don’t worry about it. It’s stupid,” I said, hoping again that she’d let it go.

“Patrick.” Her voice sounded so sad, and I hated it.

I didn’t want pity or sorrow from anyone. The ache in my body wasn’t something I had any control over, but the love that I still felt was. I chose to continue loving Addi with my whole heart. It was an active decision that I made day in and day out.

I could have gotten over her—or at least tried—but I was never going to do that. Had no desire to fill the void she’d left with some warm body that meant nothing to me. I’d love that woman until the day I died. And no one needed to feel sorry for me over it. If it wasn’t Addison Whitman, then it was no one for me.

“Just drop it. I don’t think she’s coming back anyway.” I walked away, ending the conversation, while also giving Brooklyn the answer to what she’d been asking. I headed into the massive chef’s kitchen that I’d also built for Addi, where the rest of my family was waiting.

“Uncle Patrick.” My niece, Clara, smiled at me as soon as I placed one of the unopened bottles of wine on top of the kitchen table where my brothers and dad all sat. “I love you,” she said, and I was so damn grateful for her.

Every single one of us would do anything for that little girl. And we’d almost lost her. She’d wandered off a couple of weeks back and gotten lost in a storm. My dog, Jasper, found her before it was too late.

Best. Dog. Ever.

None of us would have survived losing her. We’d all collectively lost so much already. Clara was the thread that kept us all together. We would have unraveled in an instant if things had gone badly.

“I love you too.” I grinned as I pulled out a chair next to her and sat.

“What about me? Why don’t you love me?” my younger brother, Matthew, whined and made a face at our niece. He was desperate to be her favorite uncle, but it was never going to happen.

Clara loved me the most, and we all knew it.

“I do love you, Uncle. Sheesh. So needy,” she said, sounding exasperated, and we all started laughing.

There were times when she seemed much older than only eight.

I watched as my dad opened a bottle and filled his and Brooklyn’s glasses before swirling it around like he was some master wine sommelier. He breathed the stuff in before taking a tentative sip.

“Damn. This is good stuff, Patrick,” he said.

I shook my head, running a hand through my hair. It was getting long. “If you say so.”

“Did Addison pick it out?” He brought her up so casually, like her name didn’t send me into an emotional spiral and make my breath catch in my throat.

“Dad,” Thomas warned, his tone stern.

“What? Addison taught me everything I know about wine. I just miss that girl, is all.” He continued speaking about her like it was no big deal, like talking about her was something we did all the time. Like she might walk through the door at any second when we all knew she wouldn’t and most likely never would again.

“I miss Miss Addi’s starfish mac and cheese,” Clara said as she took a big forkful of spaghetti and tried to fit it all in her mouth.

What the hell? What was it called when your family tried to destroy you instead of help you? Whatever the opposite of an intervention was, that was what was happening here. They weren’t trying to help me through my pain. They were trying to drown me in it.

“Have you heard from her?” Matthew asked.

He was always fucking asking me that.

So. Nosy.

“No,” I said forcefully, trying to end this painful topic of conversation.

My dad’s eyes shot to mine and held them in a stare. He’d given me and Thomas both his shade of blue. Matthew’s were a little deeper than the rest, and knowing him, he’d probably started a social media fan page for them.

“You haven’t talked to her lately?” my dad asked as he inhaled a piece of garlic bread in one bite.

“I haven’t heard from her in forever. We don’t talk. Okay?” I looked around at everyone, making sure they got the message.

Clara put a hand on my arm, her big brown eyes blinking up at me. “I know you miss her, Uncle Patrick. I bet she misses you too. I would. And she doesn’t even know about Jasper!”

Jesus.

This dinner was going to be the death of me.

“I really like the kitchen you made for her,” Clara added.

I pushed back out of my seat, wishing I could bolt for the outdoors and hop off the balcony.

“Who told you I made the kitchen for Addison?” I gripped the back of my chair with both hands.

Clara shrugged and pressed her lips together like she might be in trouble. “No one.”

“No one, huh?”

Addi and I had talked about our dream home so many times that when I showed her a sketch of what I’d planned on building for us, she’d cried and said it was perfect. Said she couldn’t wait to live there and start a family together. I’d laminated the drawings so they wouldn’t get ruined, and then Addi packed her shit and moved to New York instead.

My older brother cleared his throat. “She might have overheard me talking to Brooklyn about it once,” he admitted.

Honestly, it didn’t matter where my niece had picked up the information because she wasn’t wrong. I’d absolutely built this chef’s kitchen for Addi. Lord knew I didn’t even need half the shit that was in here. I couldn’t even figure out how to work half of the high-end appliances I’d bought.

“It’s a really pretty kitchen, Uncle Patrick. I bet Miss Addison could cook real good in here.” She blinked up at me with those big doe eyes, and I sucked in a calming breath.

“I bet she could too,” I said mostly to myself. That had been the whole point.

“Sit down,” my dad instructed, and I did as he’d asked without arguing. “No more talk about Addison,” he added.

“You’re the one who brought her up in the first place,” Matthew snarked at our old man, and he grumbled something under his breath as I heard a few chuckles.

This was going to be what the rest of my life looked like. I was going to be surrounded by this group forever. As I looked around at everyone who sat at my dining room table, I realized it could be worse. And that I was pretty damn lucky.

Even if I didn’t always feel that way.