Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
W ard held Della’s hand as they walked into the courtyard just to drive home the illusion that they were a couple. Her palm was warm and a little sweaty.
She was as nervous as he was, though it didn’t show on her face. He gave her a reassuring squeeze. She flashed him a grateful smile.
They weren’t really dating, but damn if it didn’t look like they were.
Lines were getting blurred.
Being home always messed with his head. The good and bad memories twisted up into a knot that took months to untangle. That was before he brought home a woman with the curiosity of a cat.
She kept asking questions he didn’t want to answer, yet he found himself doing it anyway.
Work. Focus on the work , he chided himself.
Mason’s party was a lot bigger than he’d expected. There had to be forty people in the courtyard, plus more inside the bar.
On the right, Brick and three of Ward’s former offensive line drank beer and joked around.
On the left, teens his brother’s age clustered along gender lines like they were at a high-school dance.
The parents who used to sit on the sidelines at his games clustered in groups near the back wall by the food and presents, chatting like the old friends they were.
Here and there, a new face caught his eye, but they were too young and too bright-eyed to be any real threat. He forced himself to relax. There was no reason to be on high alert tonight.
“Storm!” One of his old high school buddies lifted a beer in salute. “Glad you’re back.”
“Hey, Storm, who’s your girl?” another asked.
Ward readied himself for the real danger of bringing his protectee out in public.
He’d seen Della work the line after her concert. She’d been a force of nature. A whirlwind that generated excitement by sheer presence.
Everyone wanted her attention, and she wanted theirs.
It was a match made in hell for her bodyguards.
“Lucy,” Brick called out. “Come on over. We got some stories for you about Storm here. Has he told you about the game where he got knocked back ten feet by a tank named Ridley?”
Everyone burst out laughing.
“Oh, that I want to hear.” Della kept her hand tight in his as she pulled him toward his former teammates. She grinned at Brick. “Was he bigger than you?”
“Hell no.” Brick flicked a shit-eating grin at Ward. “Ridley was a flea.”
“He got lucky,” Ward said with a good-natured growl. “And that story never gets old for you, does it?”
Josh, one of his best wide receivers, waved a hand. “Never. Get this, Ridley was five-five and weighed maybe a buck twenty soaking wet. He was a pity play. They didn’t expect him to do much but stand there, but he gets this determined look in his eye?—”
“And he ducks around Brick—” Mike, his center, butted in.
“And hits Ward just at the knees.” Brick mimed where the hit happened, which was off by a good six inches from what Ward remembered. “They both flew back. Storm got the ball off, but it wobbled straight into the little shit’s chest, bounced off, hit Trent here in the shoulder, ricocheted and bonked two more of the defense dudes before Shane snatched it up and ran.”
“It was right out of a cartoon,” Shane laughed.
“Did you win the game?” Della asked between giggles.
The guys did the victory dance they’d perfected in high school, presenting their biceps as they shouted in unison. “Boltz!”
Ward ran a hand down his face at the cringe-worthy display, but the knots in his shoulders relaxed.
Nobody appeared to recognize the superstar in their midst. They’d responded to her the same way they would to any pretty girl he brought home—with enthusiasm and a desire to make him squirm.
So far, so good.
Now for the real test.
“It’s time for Lucy to meet my parents,” Ward said as he pulled Della away.
“Ooooo,” Josh teased. “No wonder you look sick, man.”
“We’ll catch you later, Lucy,” Brick said. “We have plenty more stories to tell.”
Hopefully, they’d be long gone before the guys worked their way back into Della’s orbit. “You ready for this?” Ward asked.
“So ready.” Della tucked her arm in his. “Is the bow still on the guitar?”
Ward shifted the instrument so she could check on it.
She plucked at it, then nodded. “Perfect. Where’s your brother?”
“Not sure.” He’d been scanning the crowd ever since they arrived but hadn’t caught sight of Mason.
“Donovan!” his stepmother called out as she rushed over to them, arms out for a hug. “Welcome home. I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Good to see you, Elyse.” He shifted the guitar out of the way, wrapped his arms around her, and squeezed. She was a lot shorter than him, so he had to duck down and she had to tiptoe, but they made it work. The guitar bumped her, but she didn’t let go.
“We’ve missed you,” she said in his ear.
“Sorry. It’s been hectic.”
He liked Elyse. She’d been his mom’s best friend long before she’d married his dad. She’d been a part of his childhood, and she’d always been good to him.
She was family.
“I know.” Elyse squeezed him a little tighter. “You do good work. Just try to remember to take a break every now and then. The rest of us need you too.”
“Will do.” He meant it. He always meant it, even if life and divas in distress got in the way.
She plucked the shoulder strap of the guitar as she released him. “You brought Mason a present.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement loaded with implication.
“It’s his eighteenth.” He gave her a sheepish look. “Lucy insisted.”
“It’s perfect.” Elyse’s attention shifted to Della. “You must be Lucy.”
Ward gestured from Della to his stepmother. “Lucy, this is Elyse. My stepmother.”
Elyse hugged Della with enthusiasm. “I’m so happy to meet you. It’s been all I could do to leave you two alone this week to get settled. Ralph told me not to butt in, but honestly, there’s no food in that house and it can get drafty without a fire going. I’ll make sure Ralph brings over some wood tomorrow, okay?”
“It’s great to meet you too,” Della said. Her voice sounded almost shaky. “And please don’t go to any trouble. The house is perfect, just as it is.”
“Well, that’s sweet of you to say,” Elyse said. “I’m just glad someone’s giving that house a little love. It’s been empty too long.”
The familiar curl of guilt wrapped around the back of his neck. He should visit more often. He knew he should. But it was hard when he walked through the door and didn’t hear his mother call out his name. Reminders of the life he’d had, and the one that had been taken, were everywhere in this town.
It was easier to stay away.
He caught Della watching him and made an effort to smooth his expression.
She took his hand and squeezed it before she turned a brilliant, distracting smile on Elyse. “So where’s the birthday boy? I think guys who play the guitar are so cool.”
“I think they’re out in the square throwing a ball around. He’ll be back soon. I told him presents start when the lights come up.” Elyse eyed the guitar with a knowing look. “Mason will be so thrilled. You couldn’t have picked anything better.”
“Is that my son Donovan?” His father put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s been so long I wasn’t sure I’d recognize you.”
“We both know your memory’s better than that.” Ward gestured at Della. “Dad, this is Lucy.”
“Well, well. I see what kept you away so long.” Dad’s eyes sparkled. “Can’t say I blame you there. Nice to meet you, Lucy.”
Della pulled his dad in for a hug. “It’s great to meet you, Mr. Ward.”
Dad squeezed her extra tight. “You call me Ralph. We don’t stand on ceremony around here.”
Ralph gave Della one more squeeze before releasing her. “You must be some kind of special. You’re the first girl he’s ever brought back to Wires Crossing.”
“Really.” Della drew the word out. “Well, I’m honored. And I can see where Donovan gets his charm.”
The hint of accent that always lurked in her voice became slightly more pronounced. He suppressed a wince. She was supposed to be from California, not Tennessee.
Dad put an arm around Elyse. “How long are you two planning to stay?”
Della cast an uncertain look in Ward’s direction. “Oh, I don’t know. A few weeks?”
“Maybe,” Ward said. “We’re playing it by ear.”
“Oh good,” Elyse said. “That gives us a bit of time to get to know Lucy.”
“Usually my son never stays more than three days,” Ralph grumbled.
“Ralph, don’t start,” Elyse chided. “Now, Lucy. Donovan mentioned you’re an actress. Have you been in anything we might have seen?”
Ward stiffened. They hadn’t gone very deep into the Lucy Carmichael backstory.
“Oh no, I doubt it. I’ve done a couple of really bad commercials.” Della wrinkled her nose. “I was up for a voice role in an animated movie, but they went with someone else at the last minute. It really broke my heart, you know? That’s why I wanted to come here with Donovan for Mason’s birthday. I needed a break.”
Della gave Ward a bright sugar-wouldn’t-melt-anywhere-near-me smile.
She’d basically claimed Piper’s recent history as her own on the fly.
It actually wasn’t a bad idea. Lies were always easier if they were sprinkled with truth.
“I’m so sorry to hear that. It would have been exciting to be involved in something like that,” Elyse said. “But I hope that means you can be here for the festival. You’d get to see Mason put your present to good use in the talent show. You know, you could sign up for the talent show too. It’s not too late, and anybody can sign up.”
“Oh.” Della’s eyes widened. “I don’t think…”
His stepmother’s crafty look made him tense all the way to his toes. Ward knew where this was headed.
“Donovan won it once. He and his friends did the funniest little skit. I think he was about eight.” Elyse’s face brightened. “Oh, and if you two come for Thanksgiving, Donovan’s aunt Martha is directing the holiday play at the opera house this year. New talent comes here from all over to prove themselves before going on to Broadway. You should have a chat with her, Lucy. Maybe she’d have a part for you to play. It would give you something for your stage credits, right?”
Ward winced and waited for the train wreck.
Della’s eyes lit up like a kid at Christmas. But then she grimaced with real regret. “That sounds like an amazing opportunity, but I think maybe now isn’t the best timing.”
“We really don’t know how long we can stay,” Ward chimed in, relieved.
“I’d hate to say yes and then have to leave.” Della’s voice was full of regret. "Donovan’s job is so unpredictable, you know? Plus, I really do need to step away from the spotlight for a little, just to clear my head.”
Ward almost snorted at the idea of Della volunteering to step out of any spotlight.
Elyse’s happy expression faltered. “You are going to Homecoming, right? This is Mason’s last year, and he’s team captain.”
The gentle reminder that he hadn’t seen any of Mason’s games this year kicked him in the gut. It was a big deal. He should have made time.
It was easier to ignore the guilt when it wasn’t staring at him with Elyse’s kind, understanding eyes. “We’ll try.”
“We wouldn’t miss it.” Della flashed him the same look she’d given him when she demanded to do the VIP concert. “I can’t wait. I’ve never seen a live football game. It sounds fun.”
“You haven’t?” Dad looked startled. “Well, you sure need to make the tailgate then. Have the whole experience.”
Ward caught sight of Mason as he stepped into the courtyard flanked by his two best friends.
Mason’s gaze locked on Ward.
Ward lifted his chin in silent greeting.
For a half second, Mason’s eyes widened, and his face brightened.
Then the excitement on his brother’s face darkened.
“Mason!” someone by the bar called out.
His brother shot him the look of resentment that had become familiar over the last few years, and turned away.
Well, wasn’t this going to be fun.
“Oh, Donovan.” Elyse put a soft hand on his arm. “You should take Lucy to the sunflowers. They’re due to peak this week. It’s lucky timing.”
“Sunflowers?” Della asked. “That sounds beautiful. I’d love to see that.”
“There’s fields of ’em off Route 2,” Ralph said. “You pick what you want. They charge by the dozen. There’s a picnic area and food trucks set up so you can make a day of it.”
Ward had to admire the way Della had completely distracted his parents. With a couple of well-placed questions, she’d moved past several awkward landmines. It was a masterful job of misdirection. He doubted they even noticed that they still knew nothing about his new mystery girl.
All that media training was actually good for something.
“Lucy,” Dad said, “why don’t you come with me. I’ll set you up with the best apple cider this side of anywhere.”
Della reached for the pendant around her neck and gave Ward a questioning look.
He gave her an encouraging nod. “Get me a Bud, would you?”
On impulse, he kissed her cheek. It was a light, feathery kiss. Barely a brush of skin on skin, but again, he felt that jolt of awareness.
“Bud,” Ralph said with a heavy dose of derision. “You’ll take my fall brew and like it. Lucy, has Donovan told you…”
They walked away, their conversation quickly swallowed by the noise in the courtyard.
He almost went after them. No telling what stories Dad would tell her.
Elyse moved closer to him as they left. “I like her.”
“Me too.” It was true, he realized. Wasn’t that a kick in the ass?
“Is she the one?” Elyse held out the tray of pigs in a blanket.
He popped one into his mouth. “It’s way too soon for that.”
Elyse’s eyes danced with amusement. “It’s never too soon, especially when she’s the first girl to cross the threshold since Rachel. I can practically hear the church bells.”
“We just started dating six months ago,” he protested.
He watched Dad hand Della a tray of mugs and point to the dessert table.
Della moved carefully toward her destination with a determined look of concentration. He doubted she’d ever done anything that domestic in her entire life.
“Uh-huh.” Elyse winked at him and moved into the crowd with her tray of appetizers.
Hell. He’d been smiling at her. He could tell by Elyse’s knowing glance back at him that there was probably already a betting pool going about his hypothetical wedding date.
He’d known bringing a “girlfriend” would be a distraction. He reminded himself that this was all a good thing. It meant Lucy had an entire town looking out for her.
Problem was, they watched his every move along with hers. That made his back itch right between the shoulder blades, like he had cross hairs on him.
Any other protection detail he was a shadow in a suit. He watched the crowd while his protectee did what they had to do. No one noticed him unless there was a problem.
With his team, there usually wasn’t one.
He’d guarded dignitaries, CEOs, and even members of a royal family. He’d been in special ops. He’d been praised for his ability to command a unit, and he’d received two commendations.
He was a successful professional with years of training.
But after an hour of questions, speculation, and whispers from friends, family, and nosy neighbors, he had to admit that no amount of active duty could prepare someone for the kind of assault given by well-meaning people in a small town.
He wasn’t a damn actor. This entire charade was growing thin, fast.
Ward moved away from the party tables to take up a position along the side where he could see both exits and where the fountain didn’t interfere too much with his line of sight.
He sent off a quick text to his team.
There better be some damn progress soon.
A few seconds later, two responses popped up on the group chat.
Spencer — Why? Trouble?
Annie — Things getting too cozy in that house with just the two of you?
He mentally flipped Annie off for that jab.
Ward — Can’t stay here forever
Annie — Anybody recognize her?
Ward — No
Annie — Told ya
He could hear the smugness and see the knowing glint in her eye in that text.
Ward — Progress. Report.
Annie sent a laughing emoji.
He sent a finger-flipping emoji back.
Spencer — A story has popped up on several sites, all with fake bylines.
A link followed. Ward clicked it and found a Buzz article titled “Della Bellamy Disappears Again.”
Ward scanned the article. It referred to Della’s previous unexpected absence almost six years ago, and speculation regarding what this current vanishing act could mean. Was she leaving the group again? Was she having an affair with Blake Ryan?
Spencer — Note the request for Della sightings in the call out.
Ward considered that. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary under the circumstances. Significance?
Annie — It’s smart to ask her legions of fans to help. It worked last time.
Spencer — There’s three subreddits conducting an investigation on Della right now that’s quite sophisticated. All possibly led by the same person. Working on verifying.
Ward — Are they close to finding her?
Spencer — No. They’re extremely upset by the lack of progress.
Ward suppressed a snort. He was just as frustrated, but for a different reason. They were no closer to finding this asshat than they had been three weeks ago.
Ward — Short list?
Spencer — Three possibles, two maybes. 1 - Alban Markey…second assistant director on the latest Destruction picture.
Annie — Can’t wait to see that…Rod Van Lander is hot
Ward — Is he smart enough to pull off the digital work?
Spencer — I’d say yes. He started on camera and sound, and has a degree in Engineering. Can’t confirm his location on date in question. No real social media presence.
Annie — I’ll ask around.
Ward glanced up. Della had moved on from old football stories to his kid sister. Samantha was fourteen. Did she like The Bellamy Sisters? She wasn’t crying or screaming at being in the presence of a pop icon. That was a good sign.
He wondered what they were talking about until they swiveled their heads in his direction and Della wiggled her fingers at him.
He scowled back down at his phone. He really wasn’t comfortable with Della learning intimate family details from his kid sister.
Ward — Who else?
Spencer — 2 - Yan Vitali. Model. He’s been a vocal Della fan for years. Huge social media footprint. Three months ago he tried to get backstage at a Bellamy Sisters concert without a ticket and got turned away. The scene was recorded for posterity.
Ward — Where was he during the concert in question?
Spencer — Unknown. His social media indicates he attended the opening of Brainwashed earlier in the evening. The next post is dinner two days later.
Ward glanced up. Aunt Martha and Samantha now clustered around Della, along with a couple of Sam’s friends.
He started toward them. Aunt Martha had a way of infiltrating anyone’s defenses to get what she wanted. By the end of the night, Della might be starring in the summer production.
His phone dinged with another text. He paused to read it.
Spencer — 3 - Stuart Ackleson. Retired WWE wrestler turned actor. He played a bit part in the first Blake/Piper flick. He has a YouTube channel. Brags a lot. Claims to have “dated” Della. Also claims to have “dated” Kate Middleton and Angelina Jolie. Working on verifying.
Annie — Guy like that…testosterone, maybe steroids…can see how he would go too far for a woman.
Spencer sent a link to Ackleson’s latest video. He could definitely put a guy in the hospital. Ackleson fit the profile, but the way he spoke in the video didn’t exactly indicate an intellectual. It was all probably for show. Still.
Annie — He could have passed for security
Ward — Find out.
Spencer — On it.
Ward — 4?
Spencer — Lester Hume. 5 - Jordan Mandel. Neither have social media that I can find. Both are behind-the-scenes Hollywood. Hume does stunts. Mandel does set design and photography. Both have loose connections to a Blake Ryan project.
Ward — Annie, you and Diggs visit Hume and Mandel. If they’re out, we need Plan B.
Annie sent a thumbs-up emoji.
Spencer — I’ll dive into the fake bylines. There’s something there.
Annie — Good news is if our guy has fished on social media, he has no idea where she is.
Ward — Yet.
He saw Della heading in his direction with two mugs and stashed his phone.
“Your face is going to crack if you keep tensing your jaw like that.” Della handed him a mug.
He didn’t drink on duty. Rule three.
Rule three should have an exception for when duty and family crossed, especially when it involved his dad’s once-a-year private brew. Screw it. His rule could bend. He took a long pull from his Dad’s best cider and tried not to think about the other places he was bending his rules.
She eyed him over the rim of her glass. “Why are you over here when the party’s over there?”
“Working.” he kept his voice low. Nobody was that close, and the noise level out here was high enough to mask everything but an explosion, but they couldn’t be too careful. “We’ve been here long enough. Time to go.”
“We can’t leave yet,” she protested. “Mason hasn’t opened his present, and besides, I said we’d stay and help your dad clean up.”
He suppressed the heavy sigh he felt building deep in his chest. “Why’d you do that?”
“He’s your dad.” Della’s tone was firm and final. It caught him by surprise. “When your dad asks for help, you help.”
His dad probably just wanted a chance to get to know Della better. That had “bad idea” written all over it, but what did it say that his dad was resorting to tactics like that just to spend time with them?
Was it really such a big deal to stay behind and give his dad a hand?
“Fine,” he relented. “I’d pay money to see you carry that tray of mugs again.”
“You won’t have to, actually. Your dad offered me a job waiting tables.” She said it so casually that he almost missed the punchline.
His dad had offered his fake girlfriend a job. A public facing job. His stomach tightened at the thought of that much exposure. “You can’t do that.”
“Why not?” She had a not-innocent-but-faking-it look on her face.
“Low. Profile.” He practically hissed the words.
“It makes sense,” she said in a reasonable tone. “I’m an out-of-work actress. I obviously need the money. If I said no, it would look suspicious. Besides, your dad needs the help. He had three servers quit this month and he’s not getting any younger, you know.”
“We talked about this. Rule two. You can’t go anywhere without me.”
“Yes, but you didn’t mean everywhere , did you? I mean, you aren’t going to follow me into the bathroom. Right?”
“You know what I meant.”
“Then I guess you’ll have to come to work with me.” She blinked at him like her plan was perfectly logical and obvious. “It’s a great idea, actually. That way you can spend some quality time with your family, who you’ve obviously been neglecting. Maybe you could help out too. They’d buy that, right? You seem like the helpful type. Do you know how to mix drinks?”
“No. You don’t know how to wait tables either.”
“Hey, I can do it. I can do anything I put my mind to.”
“You almost dropped that tray.”
“I got the drinks where they were supposed to go.”
“You sloshed.”
She wiggled her glass at him. “I did not slosh. I might have dribbled. A little.”
“You had to dry the tray off after.”
“So? Those glasses were too full. That would have happened to anybody.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So it’s settled. I start Wednesday.” She sounded smug and satisfied.
“Dammit.”
She grinned. “That’s a yes.”
“No it’s not.”
“You might as well admit it. We both know it’ll cause too much comment if I don’t do it. Besides, you won’t disappoint your dad.” She stared at the crowded courtyard. “This is nice. People don’t really connect at the parties I go to. Not like this. I like it.” She glanced sideways at him. “You shouldn’t take the real stuff for granted.”
“Who said I was?”
“How long has it been since you’ve been home?”
“Drink your cider.”
Della saluted him with her mug, then took a sip. “This is fantastic. You know, despite…well, everything…I’m glad we came here. Your family is adorable.”
Ward caught sight of his brother glaring at him. Again. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
Della followed his gaze. “Your brother has your face. Same bushy eyebrows. Same ears. Same scowl.”
“I don’t scowl like that.” He looked away before his brother took the stare as some sort of challenge.
“You really do. Your scowly face is obviously genetic.” Della shifted for a better view. “He’s definitely giving you the stink eye. What happened? You fight over a girl or something?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response.
“So not a girl, then. What else. Let’s see. Football? Which car to drive? Did you tell him he couldn’t be in a band? I bet that’s it.”
“One day he woke up with hormones and turned pissy. He’ll grow out of it.” He finished off his beer.
Della looked from Mason to him. “You sure?”
“Let it go.”
“Hmm.” Della drained the last of her cider and set the mug down. “Have you even told your brother happy birthday?”
He sucked in a deep, patience-building breath. “Not yet.”
“Well, then. No time like the present.” Della grabbed his hand and pulled. “I don’t know what’s going on between the two of you, but what I do know is stuff like this festers if you leave it alone too long, and it’s better to just get it over with. It’s just two tiny words. Come on. You can say two tiny words to your baby brother.”
“Don’t call him that. It pisses him off.” Ward put his empty glass down and let her pull him across the courtyard to where Mason stood near the hanging herb garden.
Mason’s gaze locked on Ward.
They were the same height now. His little brother wasn’t so little anymore.
Ward stopped far enough away to leave Mason some personal space, but close enough so they didn’t have to shout. “Happy birthday.”
“Thanks.” It sounded less like gratitude and more like “Fuck off.”
“Introduce me,” Della whispered a little too loudly out of the corner of her mouth.
“I know who you are.” Mason held out a hand. “I’m Mason.”
At least his kid brother managed a genuine smile for Della.
Della shook his hand. “I’m Lucy. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Thanks for coming, and for dragging my brother with you.” He shot a cold look at Ward. “I know he wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
“Oh, that’s not true. He’s the one who suggested we come,” Della said brightly.
“Uh-huh,” Mason said. Several expressions rippled across his brother’s face, none of them complimentary. He turned as if to walk away, but then stopped. “You know…this is the first time he’s ever shown up on my birthday.”
Della shot an accusing look at Ward. “Ever?”
“I’m here now.” Ward didn’t like how defensive he sounded to his own ears.
“Yeah.” Mason huffed out a bitter laugh. “My eighteenth. Better late than never, right?” He stalked off.
“Eighteen years?” Della sounded stunned. “You haven’t been home for eighteen years?”
“I’ve been home,” he muttered. “Just not this time of year.”
Della stared after his brother. “Not once?”
“No.”
She opened her mouth, then closed it.
He didn’t like the calculated understanding that settled on her face.
“Your mother died in the fall, didn’t she.”
Old pain poked at him. “Yes.”
To force her to drop the subject, he headed for the bar. He’d get another home brew instead of the shot of whiskey he’d rather have and call that a rule bent, not broken.
Della stuck with him, giving him a look that held a lot more sympathy than Ward thought he deserved.
Dad handed him a mug before he could even ask. “You and Mason get into it?”
“You could say that.” Ward took a long swig.
The steely look in his father’s eyes made the niggling sense of guilt dig in deeper. “You had to know it was coming.”
“I was deployed. Then I had a business to get off the ground.” He wasn’t sure if he was saying that to his father or to himself. Either way, it suddenly felt like a poor excuse.
“He made captain his junior year.” Dad’s tone was casual but damning all the same.
“I know. I called. I sent those special cleats.” Like that would make up for all the missed days.
“We all know it’s a tough time of year for you, son.” Dad placed two mugs of cider on a tray. “But he spent that whole season waiting for you to come see him play. It isn’t easy living up to that bar you set.”
All of the implications in that one simple sentence painted a vivid picture in his head. Ward knew what that looked like. He’d lived it. He’d been that kid on the field, searching the bleachers for faces he hoped to see. His dad. Mom. Hell, even Aunt Martha.
They’d all been there for him.
But when his kid brother had looked into the stands, he’d searched for a face that wasn’t there because his older brother was too much of a coward to face his own demons. “Shit.”
Dad picked up the tray. “The guitar’s a good start.”
A bell clanged, catching everyone’s attention.
Elyse stood up on a bench. “It’s present time!”
Applause and cheers broke out as the crowd surged toward the back of the courtyard.
Elyse held up a cupcake with a single candle on it. “Sing fast, this candle is burning quick!”
The crowd sang “Happy Birthday” loud, mostly off-key, and filled with laughter. Della mouthed the words, but Ward noticed she didn’t sing out loud.
When the song finished, Mason blew out the candle to a chorus of “Make a wish.”
Ward watched his brother open gift after gift and realized just how much he’d missed.
It made him sick.
“It’s not too late,” Della murmured in his ear. “Talk to him.”
“He seem like he wanted a conversation to you?” He was pretty sure that was the last thing his brother wanted.
She put her chin on his shoulder. To an outside observer, it would look like the loving gesture of a girlfriend. “He wouldn’t be so hurt if he didn’t. Speaking from personal experience, it’ll take more than one try. First, he’ll want to tell you all the things you’ve ever done wrong. Let him do that. After eighteen missed birthdays, he’s earned that much.”
“And that’ll fix things.”
“Like your dad said…it’s a good start.”
Her breath in his ear was getting distracting. “Maybe.”
“Oh…ours is next.” Della hopped up and down on her toes.
Anticipation made him straighten like a soldier ready for inspection. His brother would either be really happy or royally pissed off. Ward had no idea which.
Elyse held up the guitar case with a big smile. “I wonder what’s in this?”
Mason’s eyebrows went up in surprise. “Is that what it looks like?”
Elyse handed it to him. “Why don’t you open it and find out.”
“Who’s it from?” someone shouted.
“Hey, I recognize that case,” someone else said.
Mason leveraged the case on his knees and clicked it open. His jaw dropped.
“What is it?” someone shouted.
Mason looked up at Elyse. “This for real?”
She laughed. “Looks real to me.”
He lifted the guitar with careful fingers and held it gently. His hand caressed the strings with reverence. “It’s the latest Gibson Les Paul. Wow. They’re hard to get. This star cherry finish is slick!”
“Play it!” a girl said.
Emily , Ward thought. He was pretty sure she was the girl Mason had crushed on since the second grade.
“Who’s it from?” Grand asked.
“Mom and Dad,” Mason said with the firm tone of someone who thought he knew things.
“Nope,” Elyse held up her hands in denial. “Not us.”
Mason’s certainty shifted to confusion. “Then who? Aunt Martha?”
“Try reading the card,” Dad suggested.
Mason placed the guitar back in the case like it was a newborn baby, then closed the lid and reached for the small card tucked under the giant red bow.
His face froze as he read the card.
“Well? Who’s it from?” Emily asked.
“It’s from Storm and Lucy.” Mason sounded stunned. He looked up and searched the crowd until he found Ward.
The guitar had cost a small fortune, but every penny had been worth it to see the disbelief and surprise in Mason’s eyes.
“Wow. This is…wow. Thank you,” Mason said. “I…seriously, man. Thanks.”
Ward dipped his chin in acknowledgment. “I had a few birthdays to make up for.” The guilt that had seized his heart over the last hour eased a little. He raised his mug in salute. “To Mason. Happy birthday.”
“Happy birthday!” and “To Mason!” rippled through the crowd as everyone toasted his little brother.
“Told ya.” Della’s breath tickled his ear again. “It’s not too late.”
Her hands tightened on his arm, and he relished how warm and soft she felt against him. It was an unexpected comfort to have her there beside him.
Rule one, he had a feeling, was already shot to hell.