Chapter 19
Nineteen
Colter
“You look like something Ludo decided to roll in and then drag through the mud for good measure.”
I sent a glare in Dean’s direction where he sat stretched out on the sofa, sock feet propped up on the coffee table of our childhood home, while a football game played quietly on the TV.
The familiar living room hadn’t changed much since we were kids—same worn hardwood floors, same photos lining the mantle, same sense of home that wrapped around you the moment you walked through the door.
“Thanks for that incredibly helpful observation.”
“Beer?” He lifted his own from where it sat on a coaster on the side table, waggling it in my direction.
Mama had drilled their use into us early, after Bodie left a permanent ring on her grandmama’s antique table when he was fourteen.
She’d about had a conniption, and none of us had forgotten the lecture that followed.
“Hell, why not?” I wandered into the kitchen and snagged a longneck from the six-pack sitting in the fridge, popping the top on the bottle opener mounted to the windowsill over the sink—the same one that had been there since well before I was tall enough to reach it.
Then I went back to join my brother, dropping on the other end of the sofa with a sigh that came from somewhere deep in my bones. “Where’s Dad?”
“Had a meeting with the city council about the new zoning regulations.”
I arched a brow, taking a pull from my beer. “And you got out of that as his current second-in-command?”
“Elizabeth Beech is his second now, and thank every possible deity for it.” Dean grinned, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “I’d rather be working with my hands like Fletcher and Gunner. All that bureaucratic nonsense makes me want to put my head through a wall.”
Our father was back to his full mayoral duties, something that we’d all worried would never happen after the flood.
He’d been horrifically injured rescuing folks during that nightmare of a day, pulling three people out of rising water before a piece of debris caught him wrong.
He’d ended up with multiple surgeries to fix his shoulder and a broken pelvis, and six months of intensive PT down in Nashville before he’d even been able to come home.
There’d been more PT after that, weeks and months of slow, painful progress that had tested everyone’s patience—especially his own.
Our eldest sister, Alia, had been the one to step into his shoes as mayor in his absence, taking on the role with the same quiet competence she brought to everything.
Although, we later found out that was more due to everyone’s expectations than her own desire.
She’d about run herself into the ground, with all of us taking her hyper-competence for granted, assuming she could handle it all because she always had.
Once we’d realized what we’d done to her, hadn’t that made us all feel like supreme assholes?
But it had needed saying. She’d deserved a chance to rest and pursue her own dreams, so we’d split up the duties she’d been somehow juggling by herself and gave her room to fly.
Now she split her time between Gibson Hollow and Charleston, where her husband, Ramsey, played pro football for the Sentinels, while pursuing the romantasy writing that had earned her a massive following under the pen name none of us had even known about.
I’d never seen her happier, never seen her so light and free, and the two of them were absolute #relationshipgoals.
The way he looked at her like she hung the moon, the way she smiled at him like he was her whole world—it was the kind of thing that made you believe in the real deal.
I was for damn sure not that lucky.
“Swayze is avoiding me.”
Dean arched a brow and muted the game, shifting to face me. “That implies that at one point she wasn’t. You don’t date, so spill, bro. What happened?”
I felt like an absolute idiot even bringing it up, but if I didn’t talk to someone about it, I was going to lose my mind.
“We’re not dating. We haven’t even gotten close to that.
I just… I like her, man. We were getting friendly, beyond being neighbors who wave at each other across the yard.
” I explained the almost kiss and the unfortunate interruption.
My brother winced, his expression sympathetic. “Cock blocked by the kid and the dog. That’s harsh, dude. Like, cosmically unfair.”
“Yeah, well, story of my life these days.” I took another swig of beer.
“Anyway, I didn’t get to see her for almost a week after that, with one thing and another.
And then the next time I did manage to catch her, things were weird.
She barely made eye contact, kept the conversation short and surface-level.
And I’ve hardly seen her since, like she’s actively timing her comings and goings to avoid running into me. ”
“Are you sure she’s avoiding you and not just busy? I mean, I’m guessing there was a lot to take care of after the fire at her place.”
“I can’t say for absolute certain, because her brother came to town right around then and is still here.” I ran a hand through my hair, frustration bubbling up.
“Nice that she gets to hang out with some family. That’s important, especially around the holidays.”
“Well, obviously. I’m not begrudging her that.
” I shifted on the couch, trying to find words for the gnawing sensation in my gut.
“But it’s like… I just worry I did something wrong with her, and I don’t know what, and I want to fix it.
But that’s going to require having a conversation that lasts longer than thirty seconds, and I can’t seem to manage that right now. ”
Dean tipped back his beer and considered, his expression thoughtful in that way that meant he was taking this seriously. “Well, you might have to take matters into your own hands and try to create a situation she can’t—or won’t—want to avoid.”
I arched a brow. “You mean…”
“The Christmas Eve party. Obviously.” He gestured with his bottle like it was the most logical thing in the world.
“She loves Uncle Dee, and you know he’ll be holding court.
I don’t think she’d want to miss it. If you really want to ensure she shows up, unleash the Sasspatch Society on the invitation. They’ll make it irresistible.”
“Dude, if I do that, they’ll be planning our wedding for right after our first date.” I shook my head emphatically. “I’m not going to subject myself—or her—to their matchmaking efforts. They wouldn’t know the meaning of subtle if it stood up and danced a Cha Cha on the table in full sequins.”
“You aren’t wrong about that.” Dean grinned at the mental image. “But I maintain it’s the right move if you’re desperate.”
“Nah. If I go that way, there is no putting that genie back in the bottle. They won’t rest until I’m married and adding to the grandkid tally, and they’ll make both our lives a living hell in the process.
” I grimaced. “I’m just trying to get a single date to gauge where Swayze and I stand, see if there’s something here or if I’m imagining the whole thing.
She might not even be staying long term.
” And the idea of that disappointed me more than I wanted to admit.
“Well, the original suggestion holds even without the Sasspatch intervention. You can always ask her yourself. Invite the brother, too, if he’s still gonna be here for Christmas Eve.”
When we hadn’t come up with anything better by the time I left a half hour later—and we’d exhausted the topic, along with another beer each and a half a tin of mixed nuts—I decided I might as well try Dean’s suggestion.
I didn’t think it could hurt, and at this point, I was willing to try almost anything to get five minutes alone with Swayze to clear the air.
Yet another unfamiliar vehicle was in the driveway on her side by the time I got home.
Not sure exactly what I’d be interrupting—and suddenly questioning whether this was a terrible idea—I marched over anyway before I could talk myself out of it and knocked on the door.
It opened to reveal a tall, burly dude with suspicious eyes and the kind of build that suggested he could snap me in half without breaking a sweat.
“Help you?” His posture said he was on guard duty, shoulders squared and blocking the doorway.
“Um, I’m looking for Swayze.”
“Is that Colter?” called another male voice from somewhere inside.
A moment later, JP tugged tall and scowly to the side with surprising ease.
“Hey Colter, come on in, man.” As if he were afraid I’d bolt—and honestly, I was considering it—he curled one hand around my arm and pulled me across the threshold. “Everybody, Colter’s here!”
Who the hell was everybody?
I froze like a deer in the headlights as multiple sets of eyes swiveled in my direction, taking me in with varying degrees of curiosity.
I spotted Swayze at the kitchen island, looking both gorgeous and trapped.
Beside her was a slightly older woman with an unmistakable family resemblance—the same bone structure, the same mouth, and those same hazel eyes—a glass of wine in her hand and a look of impish fascination on her face that made me immediately nervous.
On the sofa was an even older woman who I guessed must be their mother, because she looked like Swayze plus about forty-odd years, the same caramel-colored hair gone silver-streaked, with the same warm smile.
Christmas music played from somewhere—one of those classic holiday stations—which went along with the tree that had materialized in the corner and the explosion of popcorn garland and homemade decorations of construction paper and ribbon that covered it.
The fireplace flickered with a cozy fire, and someone had placed a pair of bright red poinsettias on either side of the small mantle.
The whole place looked settled in and cozy, lived-in. Like a family had claimed it.
Apparently realizing Swayze wasn’t going to do it—she seemed to be studying her wine glass with intense focus—JP took it upon himself to make introductions. “Family, this is Swayze’s neighbor, Colter Gibson. Colter, this is my other sister, Paisley; her husband, Ty; and our mother, Genevieve.”
“Nice to meet y’all,” I managed, trying for my usual easy charm and probably falling short. “Have all y’all come up for the holiday?”
“We have.” Genevieve beamed at me with genuine warmth. “It’s been a minute since we’ve all been able to do this—actually be together under one roof. Work and life gets in the way, you know?”
“Glad you’re getting the opportunity, then. Family time is important.” Unsure where to go from there, and acutely aware of Swayze’s continued silence, I sniffed the air, catching the scent of vanilla and peanut butter wafting from the kitchen. “Something smells good in here.”
“We’ve been doing some holiday baking. Peanut butter blossoms are in the oven right now if you want to stick around for some.” Paisley flashed an inviting smile. “They should be ready in about five minutes.”
My gaze slid to Swayze, and again, I couldn’t quite read her expression beyond the fact that it wasn’t exactly welcome. More like cornered. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid I can’t stay. I only stopped by real quick to extend an invitation.”
She lifted a brow, finally meeting my eyes, her expression guarded.
“Um, my family throws a massive shindig for Christmas Eve every year, and my grandma would have my hide if I didn’t invite all of you.
” I shifted my weight, suddenly feeling like I was back in high school asking someone to prom.
“There’ll be lots of food, drinks, music—the whole shebang.
Uncle Dee and his friends usually put on some kind of performance.
I completely understand if you’d rather have Swayze to yourselves since you don’t get together often, but the invite stands, if you’re into that sort of thing. ”
“What a lovely idea,” Genevieve said, her face lighting up. “How thoughtful of you to include us.”
I could tell Swayze was hunting for a polite way to refuse, her mouth opening slightly, when Paisley spoke up before she could. “We’d absolutely love to come. Just let us know where and when and what the dress code is. Casual? Semi-formal? Ugly Christmas sweater?”
“It’s an anything goes sort of party. The Sasspatch Society never misses an excuse to dress up, so some folks hit that end of the spectrum, and others pick the ugly Christmas sweater route, and everything in between.
Wear whatever makes you feel good. It’s really laid back, just a lot of people and a lot of food.
” I backed toward the door, past the hulking brother-in-law who still looked like he was deciding whether I was a threat. “Hope to see y’all there.”
I made my escape back to my own place, not really sure if I’d claimed a victory there or not. I couldn’t figure out how Swayze felt about any of this—whether she was relieved or annoyed or something else entirely.
But hopefully I’d be getting to the bottom of it soon.