Chapter 16
Cameron
Taryn slides a paper across the table to me, and then another, and when I look down, I see that she’s drawn up an entire plan.
Because of course she has. My cousin-in-law-slash-aunt-in-law (too complicated to understand) was a business major in school and only thinks in logistics and possibilities.
She can’t look at any situation without figuring out how to make it even better and more successful.
She spent her first weeks back in Wood figuring out how to help Gunner and Gabe out of a jam with their own business, so I already know how her brain works.
And she’s one of the best people I’ve ever met.
I guess I shouldn’t be surprised to see she’s done the same thing for my little business.
But when you grow up with someone like Sammy standing next to you sucking up all the air in the room, you get used to people not… seeing you.
I look up at her, not bothering with what she’s written, and when I meet her eyes, I know mine are wet with emotion. “What is this?”
She presses her lips together, her own eyes going wet at whatever she sees on my face. “It’s a plan, of course. Isn’t that what you two are always looking for?”
My laugh surprises me, sharp and loud. The fucking plans.
Only this time it’s not for mischief. It’s for something important.
I look back down at the paper, which is covered in graphs, tables, and numbers, and bite my lip. “I don’t have your degree, Taryn. You’re going to have explain all of this.”
She chuckles softly but doesn’t argue with me. Instead, she points at the first graph, clears her throat, and starts explaining.
Within moments I can see that she’s thought of everything when it comes to Gabe’s idea of wrapping my artwork into Gunner’s business.
She points out production schedules, a plan for transferring my clients to Gunner’s database for tracking and billing, and even some ideas for streamlining my suppliers.
She has a whole page about pricing and how to be more consistent there—something Sammy and I have never thought of—and another page about my process itself, and how I can make it more efficient.
“I mean I’m not insane,” she says. “I know you’re an artist and you have to let your muse boss you around.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “My muse? Or Sammy.”
Her eyes crease at the corners but she suppresses her smile. “Aren’t they the same thing?”
Well, shit.
She’s right, of course. I just didn’t think other people knew about it.
I look down again, horrified at the thought that anyone’s seen through me to that extent, and her hand suddenly grabs mine.
“I just mean I know she’s the one running the business aspect,” she says quietly. “So I assume she’s constantly riding you to produce more artwork.”
Gabe snorts. “If she’s riding him, I bet she doesn’t think about artwork at all.”
I punch Gabe right in the mouth for that one, and that starts a scuffle that erases all mention of Sammy and whether she is or isn’t my muse.
And only later do I realize that Taryn had told the truth of what they both suspected… and then they both gave me a way out of admitting it. While presenting me with a business plan for my artwork and how to merge it with Gunner’s business.
While giving me an exact outline for how to do it.
God, I love my cousins. I’d never tell them, because I’m not capable of saying those sorts of things out loud. I never have been.
But I’m betting they know, anyhow.
And for right now, that’s enough.
I come out of the memory and back to myself, and glance around the breakfast table., where the three of us are having a very awkward, very intense breakfast. I made pancakes and bacon, as usual, because that’s Sammy’s favorite breakfast.
And she hasn’t touched a single bite of her food.
The syrup is getting cold and sticky on her pancakes and the bacon, which I didn’t take enough time with, looks limp and very sad on her plate. I stare at it for several moments, then turn my eyes up to the girl herself, confused.
Sammy may be many things, but she’s never been anorexic.
She chooses alternative routes for hurting herself.
“Have you decided you don’t eat anymore?” I ask.
This is when I realize that she’s not eating because she’s not even looking at her plate. Instead, she’s staring at Bear like he’s a puzzle she’s trying to work out.
This sends a wash of anger through my blood, my skin suddenly hot and itchy and my temper rising like a ghost on Halloween.
“Sammy,” I snap.
She jumps and spins in her chair to look at me, her eyes wide and somehow guilty. “What?”
I fight not to react to the look on her face and the fact that she was just staring at Bear, and clamp my teeth down on my first three responses. I discard them one after the next, knowing that none of them is right, and by the time I speak, my voice is low and reasonable.
“Are you going to eat your breakfast? Or have you decided you don’t like pancakes anymore?”
The question is loaded, but I don’t take it back.
The truth is, something’s shifted in Sammy over the past week, and I can’t figure out what it is.
She’s been spending more time on her own and holding her opinions more closely.
She went to the train tracks without giving me any hint as to what she was doing, which she’s never done before, and I can’t say I believed her when she claimed she was going to move before the train arrived.
Now she’s looking at Bear like he has some answer she needs, and he’s refusing to meet her eyes, and everything feels so wrong that I want to scream.
I like my world orderly and dependable. Strong foundations, days I can count on, and several hours’ worth of notice before anything changes. Nothing in my childhood was solid, and now that I’m an adult and get to choose the way I live, I like to know what’s coming and who’s bringing in.
And though she’s a tornado in human clothing, Sammy has always been the one person I could count on to understand that.
I don’t like that she’s acting different. It makes me feel unsafe.
The girl in question startles at my question, her eyes telling me that she knows exactly what I’m asking, and she hastily shovels a fork full of pancakes into her mouth.
I can see the exact moment she realizes that they’re both cold and soggy, though, because her face turns a delicate shade of green.
“Um, delicious,” she says faintly. “Your best pancakes ever. Of course I still like them.”
And I laugh, because she looks so ridiculous during it, and pass her a napkin so she can spit them out again.
“Next time, try eating them when they’re still warm,” I say, chuckling.
She makes a face at me and tells me she’ll do it however she wants it, and the rest of breakfast passes relatively normally.
Though the episode leaves a mark on my soul that I’m trying very hard not to look at. Because I don’t want to know what it might mean.
I take a moment to try to process what Gabe’s just told me, holding the phone out like it’s become something foreign, and then bring the device back to my ear.
“What did you just say?”
“I said,” he says quickly, his voice both hushed and hurried at the same time, “that I’ve just heard about Bear’s appearance in front of the council tonight.
Evidently, they’re calling him in because he’s not doing a good job, or at least that’s the story, but Miller told me it’s more than that.
Said someone wants him out, and they’re gunning for him, and that’s what this whole thing is about. ”
I shake my head, still feeling like I’m missing something.
“Someone wants him out? Someone wants him out of what?”
“Out of town.”
I love my cousin. I really do. But sometimes his inability to tell a full story makes me want to murder him.
“Are you saying,” I say slowly, “that even though they hired Bear as sheriff and he actually grew up in this town, someone on the council somehow has it out for him and is trying to set him up so he gets run out of Wood? Even though he’s a Hawke and therefore has every right to be here?”
“Yes, exactly.”
Gabe sounds so gratified that I’ve filled in the blanks on my own that I increase my plans to murder him at the soonest opportunity, cousin or not.
“Gabe, you’re a horrible storyteller. And you’re insane. Are you sure Miller was even telling you the truth?”
“Why wouldn’t he be telling me the truth? Besides, you haven’t heard the things they’ve been saying about him. About how he was before he left, and the way he’s deserted so many... wives.”
The last word comes out in a croak as Gabe realizes at the last minute that what he’s saying directly affects me, but I skip past that–because what’s the point–and get to the heart of the matter.
“They’re actually trying to run him out of town?”
“That’s what I hear.”
“And your father’s not going to save him? Bear’s his little brother!”
Gabe’s pause last just long enough for me to know what’s coming. “I don’t think they’ve ever been that close, Cam. My dad doesn’t hate Bear. But he’s not going to put his own reputation on the line to save him.”
I nearly bite my own tongue off at that. I know that Gunner and Bear have never been close, and that they’re as different as two brothers could ever be. But Gunner is still Bear’s big brother. They grew up together and they share blood.
And that should fucking mean something. I don’t even have siblings and I know that. Hell, I’d cut my whole body into pieces and sell them if it meant saving Sammy from any sort of trouble, and I’d do the same fucking thing for Gabe and Taryn, if they needed me to.
So, knowing that your own brother is being attacked, and not doing anything about it?
Hard no.
“He’s not going to stand up for him,” I breathe.
Gabe doesn’t answer, but that doesn’t matter. I already know that Gunner’s not going to stand up for Bear.
And as insane as it is, as much as I hate the man for what he’s done for me, I know that I will. Because the man is blood. He’s my father, and Sammy’s stepfather, and that fucking means something.
“Then I will.”
This catches Gabe by surprise. “What? Why?”
I feel the smile growing on my face and know it’s not friendly. It’s not nice or pretty or even humorous.
It’s a smile of acknowledgement, because for the first time, I understand what Sammy said right before we got into that fight with the bikers.
“Because he’s ours.”
I hang up and turn around to look through the shop for Sammy. Evidently, we have a problem and need a plan, and when it comes to plans, she’s always got the best ones.
Besides, I have a feeling she’s going to be concerned about Bear’s situation. And though I don’t know why, I trust her enough to know that if she cares about it, it’s got to be important.
I just hope she’s here and not off collecting dandelions or doves or some other stupid thing.