Chapter 28
TWENTY-EIGHT
brOOKS
Spring
I thought it would feel different coming back. I also knew it would feel the same.
This town is woven into my soul. My best memories bloomed here, but also, some of my worst. I’ve spent the last few months reconciling my past with my present, and the only thing I know for certain is that Holly, Lindsey, and her boys are the most important people in my life.
I’m still not sure I can keep all of them safe, though. And I question whether I deserve to.
I put Lindsey and my daughter at risk. What they went through was due to me and my decisions.
I could have done more when someone broke into our home.
And burying that money with Roddy, and not telling Lindsey what I had done, was foolish.
I thought I was protecting her by burying the truth along with the drug money. That hole was too shallow.
And yet she forgave me, almost instantly. And she still calls, even when I don’t answer. Her messages are kind, her wishes for me genuine, and there’s always this glimmer of hope in her voice.
When she called last week, I finally picked up.
She asked if I was coming into town soon, and if we could talk.
Hunter and Renleigh tell her everything, and they likely told her I am thinking about hanging up my cleats.
My agent disagrees. And so does Hunter. But he doesn’t know what it’s like to live in my head.
Baseball was a given for him, but I’m not sure I can drum up the same fire required to get to the next level.
I lost some of the fuel after everything went down last year, and I haven’t exactly kept up with my training like I should.
It would be easy to get back, though. I just need one reason. Maybe three.
And that’s why I’m here.
The golden Earl’s sign flickers against the periwinkle sky. Dusk hits differently in this part of the world. Flatlands and windmills broken up only by the few places like Earl’s, where trucks pile into the lot and beer flows freely, and stadium lights that glow above the horizon.
I’m here to see both. Either to say goodbye, or . . .
Lindsey’s van is pulled up right by the door. Her shift ends in an hour. I’m early, but I drove straight through, and once I crossed the county line, I had to keep going.
Holly is spending the weekend with her Uncle Hunter and Aunt Ren. I think the two of them want to see what it would be like having a family. Hunter bought a ring already; I saw it. He doesn’t think Renleigh is ready for him to ask, but sometimes you just have to take a leap of faith.
Kinda like the one I’m about to take.
I get out of my car and straighten the denim button down I changed into at a gas station four miles back. I want to look nice when I see her, which means I couldn’t show up in the same shirt I wore for three hundred miles. I like to eat on the road. And I’m a messy dude.
I roll up each sleeve, then glance down at my jeans to make sure I’m not covered in crumbs. With a deep breath, I roll my shoulders back and head to the heavy metal door branded with Earl’s famous tagline: Good beer. Good people. Good times.
I add one more in my head.
Good luck.
A round of laughter hits my ears as soon as I step inside, and I glance to my right to spot this season’s new batch of rookies piled around one of the pool tables, probably losing lots of cash to one of the locals.
I learned really quick not to bet on pool games here.
For some of these folks, pool is like a second language.
Daisy spots me over the crowd gathered around her at the bar, and she nods with a smile. I move in close enough to order a drink, but she’s already got a Coke waiting for me.
“I might need a little rum in it this time,” I say. I don’t drink much. She got that right. But I could use a dash of courage.
She tops it off, then slides it my way.
“This one’s on the house. She’ll be right out.”
Daisy winks, then heads to the other end of the bar to bark at a few men getting rowdy. She has bouncers at this place, but Daisy can usually break things up before she needs to call on the muscle. She’s a woman in charge. Turns out, that’s my type.
When the curvy waitress rushes by with a tray filled with shots and two whiskey sours, I track her movement with my eyes. Lindsey looks different in this element, and seeing her puts a boyish grin on my face.
“All right, gather round, fellas. Time to toast,” she says as she lines up the drinks on one of the high-top tables in the back.
It looks like someone is having a bachelor party.
Either that, or it’s rush season for the university fraternity, and one of these dudes got in.
I never did any of that shit, so I’m not sure if it’s the right season for it.
Lindsey’s hips sway as she maneuvers her way through the crowded tables, picking up empty glasses and stuffing tips into her apron pocket. I’m starting to wonder if she’s even interested in going back to a nannying gig, given how much cash I see her tucking away.
Her gaze lifts after she clears her last table, and when our eyes meet, I remember why I came. I need to know if I can live without this girl. And if I can’t, I need to convince her that she needs me just as much.
“You’re early,” she says, sidling up to me with a full tray propped on her palm.
“Not a lot of traffic heading this way, I guess.” I scan along her side, tracing the curve of her breast and her hips. “You can really rock an Earl’s T-shirt, by the way.”
Her head tilts and she gives me side eyes. All I can do is shrug.
“I have very good taste. What can I say?”
Her lips slowly pucker into a tight smile, and she steps into me, giving me a kiss on my cheek.
“Yes. You do,” she says.
I watch her hips sway as she sashays around the bar, dumps her dirty glasses into a bin, then tucks her tray behind the counter.
“You good if I take off now, Daisy?” She holds up a hand and Daisy gives her a thumbs up from the other end of the bar. It’s packed in here.
“I’m fine waiting if she needs your help for a while.”
“Daisy? Help?” Lindsey spits out a short laugh as her eyes pull in. As if on cue, Daisy whistles loudly enough that the entire bar gets quiet and looks her way.
“Someone lost their keys. Who’s Mikey is a bad boy?” she reads aloud from a keychain. The razzing comes from the table of rookies in the back, and they shove some poor dude side to side as he makes his way to the bar like a kid getting called to the front of the class.
“Mikey is indeed a very bad boy,” I tease under my breath.
“You’re one to talk,” Lindsey jokes. Heat rushes down my neck, mostly from the way her gaze flirts with me.
“You’re a little too good at this gig,” I warn.
She unties her apron after pulling out a fistful of cash, then settles in next to me on a seat at the end of the bar.
“You should see me nanny,” she teases. Her smile isn’t quite as big this time, and her gaze lingers on me for an extra beat.
“Renleigh told you I’m thinking about . . .” I lift a shoulder, unable to say the word quitting. Perhaps that’s the only sign I need. I can’t even say it. I just can’t seem to say I’m coming back for good, either.
“She says a lot of things. I’d rather hear what you have to say. Here, help me count.” She pushes the pile of money to the bar space between us, and I help her flatten out the crinkled ones and fives.
“This looked like a lot more when you pulled it out,” I admit.
“It always does,” she says with a sigh. She glances at me with a faint grin, then moves on to her copies of tabs while I take over counting her cash.
We both end up with eighty-seven dollars for our total when we count, including the credit card tips.
That’s not enough to cover groceries for a week.
“It’ll pick up when the season starts. Plus, I won’t be taking classes over the summer, so I’ll have more time to work.”
“School is going good, then?”
“I didn’t fail algebra, so yeah. I’d say it’s going well.” Her lips bunch with a short laugh and she breathes on her nails before rubbing them on the center of her shirt to mark her accomplishment.
“What I hear is you’re thinking of switching to a math major,” I tease. She shoves my arm, and I brace myself for the impact. Because I don’t move, she ends up leaning into me, and her hands stay on my arm.
“Politics, actually.”
My eyebrows raise.
“Politics. Okay.” I hold on to her gaze for a few extra seconds, and see the spark behind her eyes.
“My mom ran a lot of campaigns, and I’ve gotten really interested in that work.”
“I remember,” I say, still stuck on her eyes.
Her head pivots a tad, and her mouth pulls up into a suspicious smirk.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.
“You just look really happy, is all. It’s . . . it’s nice to see you that way.” I drop my gaze to her hand as it curls around my bicep. I wasn’t sure how she would look. The last visual I really have is one of her incredibly frightened. And that was my fault.
“It’s nice to see you happy, too,” she says. “You are, aren’t you, Brooks? Are you happy?”
A let out a short, breathy laugh and suck in my lower lip, finally peeling my focus away from her perfect face. I lean back, holding on to the edge of the bar as I stretch my back. Her hand slips from my arm at the same time.
“That’s a really hard question. Am I happy?”
“It shouldn’t be,” she says.
I nod.
“You’re probably right,” I admit, blinking my focus back to her.
She leans into me again, her hand tipping up my chin. It takes all self-control not to grab it and kiss the inside of her wrist.
“I’m always right, Brooks. Every. Single. Time.”
The way her lips part with a tiny breath takes me spiraling back to the first time I kissed her. Her mouth is intoxicating, but I can’t let that alone sway me into making such a monumental decision.
“How are you, really? Are you . . . okay?” I sink into her gaze, and breathing gets harder all of a sudden.
This is what I came here for. To know for sure.
To read her eyes and tell one way or another if I stole her glow with my dumb fucking life.
If I broke her spirit. “Or did I . . .” My breath stutters, and I spin on my stool to face her head on.
Before I can get out another word, she rests her other hand on my face. I hold her wrists and try not to drown while looking at her.
“I miss you. I miss us. But other than that, Brooks. Yes, I’m really, really okay.”
I nod, my movement tiny. “Yeah?”
Her lips curl up slightly. “Yeah.”
I match my breathing to hers, and slowly my hands glide down her arms, stopping at her elbows. I can’t seem to removed them completely. I’m afraid if I do, she’ll disappear.
I don’t know why I’m so afraid. She’s right here.
All it would take is one yes from me. One ask—let’s start over.
But what if that was our end, and she’s better off now that she’s okay?
That missing us is beautiful, and something we can both do without me fucking up her life.
What if that wasn’t the end of everything, and there’s someone out there still looking for something my father stole?
Or my mother stole? The baggage they left behind for me to clean up. If only I had one sign.
“I’m staying with Roddy. Maybe . . . maybe tomorrow we can talk more. I’d love to see the boys, and—”
“Brooks, I don’t want to do anything just a little. I need to know if you’re coming back. All of you. All in. I’ll be okay, but I can’t get my hopes up again that there’s something here when it’s not.”
“But there is something,” I say, suddenly feeling the fight in my own chest.
She slides from her stool and steps between my legs, closing the distance between us until it’s nothing more than a few inches.
“Prove it.”
My universe, it always balances out. And I’ve had a lot of shit roll down the hill and bury me this last year. I’m due something good. I’m due a sign, a not-so-subtle nudge.
Perhaps the man was sitting across the bar this whole time. Or maybe I conjured him out of thin air, and he isn’t even real. Whatever the manifestation, real or not, I’m compelled to walk toward him and see.
“One second,” I say, squeezing her hands and slipping off my seat to talk to the man sitting alone at the other end of the bar.
“Uh, okay?”
I meet her eyes briefly and point to the man, who is busy watching a game on the TV plastered above the top-shelf liquor.
“You see him, right?” I ask.
She squints a little but nods.
“Yeah, Brooks. I see the man minding his own business.” She chuckles, but sounds a bit worried.
My chest is quaking, but I’m not scared seeing him there. He’s not wearing the ragged clothing I saw him in before. And he doesn’t look like he’s tweaking out, or after me. He looks like a regular man from Sweetwater. Blue collar. Or maybe . . . a cop.
I clear my throat as I approach him, and he twists in his seat, pulling a beer bottle away from his lips.
His eyes flicker with what I think is recognition.
I don’t say a word. I simply stare into his eyes.
He pulls his wallet from his back pocket, then unfolds it on the bar top for a brief second.
The gold and blue of the badge hits me first, and I take a mental snapshot of the ATF before he closes the billfold and returns it to his pocket.
“I’m sorry. I thought you were someone else,” I say.
He nods, and I leave him behind me, and suddenly everything makes sense.
When I get back to Lindsey, she’s cashing out her tips for bigger bills, and gathering her purse to leave. I block her steps as she moves to round the bar again, and her miffed expression is the last thing I see before I run my hands into her hair and press my mouth to hers.
She hums into my kiss, and her impatience dissipates almost instantly.
Daisy’s whistle draws too much attention to us, but for once, I don’t care.
I lift Lindsey and she wraps her legs around me while I kiss her in front of a bunch of rookies who I will have to convince to keep their mouth shut when the season starts.
If Lindsey and I are doing this, for real, I want us to do it slow and do it right.
We’ll build the story everyone else gets to think is true: a single dad and his nanny slowly falling in love. It’s nobody’s business how fast we actually fell.