Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
The House
“Hobbits are awesome.” Archer pitched his voice low so as not to wake a sleeping Lenni. She was on one end of the couch, opposite of Archer, and was coiled around Mildred.
We’d made it to the second movie before she’d conked out.
Archer tucked the end of the blanket around Lenni’s sock-clad foot before returning his attention back to me.
“I don’t know how you do it,” he said.
“Do what?” I swiveled my body around, so my legs were no longer hanging off the arm of the chair and I met Archer’s gaze.
“Get through to her,” he said. “She refused to talk to me. I couldn’t even get her to answer her door when I knocked. The teen years are gonna be a hoot.”
“You definitely have your work cut out for you.”
“You’re not even going to sugarcoat it, are you?”
“Nope. The teen years are hard. And emotionally scarring.”
“For the child or the parent?”
“Both,” I admitted with a wry smile.
“What were your teenage years like?” he asked, curiosity brimming in his brown eyes.
“A roller coaster.”
“Well, obviously.”
“Not obviously. What were your teenage years like?” I demanded. “You and Brooks get yourselves into mounds of trouble?”
“I got into trouble,” he corrected. “Brooks was always the one pulling me out of it.”
“Ah, the big brother thing.”
Archer scratched his jaw, the raspy sound of his stubble against his fingers sending shockwaves of desire through me.
“Brooks is actually my cousin.”
“Really?” I frowned. “Wow. Poet never told me.”
Archer shrugged. “He’s my brother in all the ways that matter.
We were raised as brothers. It wasn’t until we were older that we found out the truth.
His biological mother was my biological father’s younger sister.
She died during childbirth. And his biological father was already long gone.
So, my parents took him in. Raised us together. Could’ve been worse for him, you know?”
He looked again at Lenni whose expression was soft in sleep. There was no battle, no fights warring in her dreams.
“I told her,” Archer said, gesturing with his chin in Lenni’s direction. “About Brooks being my cousin. That led into the discussion about our parents.”
I paused. “Lenni said they both passed away?”
“Yeah.” He sighed. “Dad died several years ago in a motorcycle accident. Mom died a few hours after Brooks got sentenced. Heart attack.”
“Oh God,” I murmured.
“Yeah. It was bad there for a while.” Archer paused. “Brooks still carries the guilt. He shouldn’t though. What he did for our club brother . . .”
Even if Lenni hadn’t been asleep in the same room, I doubted Archer would’ve told me the story. I knew there was something deeper with Brooks. Poet had told me as much, but she never broke his confidence.
“Do you miss the club?” I asked when the silence grew too uncomfortable for me.
“No. The chapter we were part of was going down a bad path.” He looked at Lenni. “Besides, she wouldn’t be here now if I was still involved in the club. Wild, isn’t it? How one choice affects the rest of your life, and sometimes you don’t find out why until years later.”
I nodded. “I think about that a lot.”
“You do?”
“Sure. I mean, if Poet and I hadn’t been looking for roommates in New York, then we never would’ve met Salem and Hadley. And Poet wouldn’t be with Brooks, and I wouldn’t be here with you guys.”
We fell silent again, only this time it didn’t feel uncomfortable. It felt spacious, like we were giving unsaid things between us room to grow.
Mildred moved beneath the blanket until her head finally popped out. She pressed her snoot to Lenni’s neck, causing her to stir.
“Wet,” Lenni muttered. Her eyes cracked open, and she pulled Mildred onto her chest. Lenni yawned. “How long have I been asleep?”
“About twenty-five minutes,” Archer said.
“Did you stop the movie?” she asked.
“Yep.”
Lenni yawned again. “What time are we going to the Ridge tomorrow?”
I held in a smile. “The Ridge?”
“Yeah, that’s what it’s called, right?” she asked. “You call it that. Muddy calls it that.”
I looked at Archer. “Eight-ish. Does that work for you?”
“Hey, just tell me a time and a place,” he quipped.
Lenni got up off the couch and padded toward the stairs. “Good night.”
I scooped Mildred up and took her to the back door to let her out.
“She called it the Ridge,” Archer said when Lenni was out of earshot.
“Yeah, she did.” I smiled. “Good sign.”
He nodded in agreement. “Aside from getting suspended after only two days of school, she’s settling in okay. Don’t you think?”
“I do.”
“But?” he prodded.
“No buts.”
He paused for a moment and then asked, “We’ve entered holiday territory. I should expect a meltdown or two, shouldn’t I?”
“It’s a safe bet,” I said with a winsome smile.
“What should I get her for Christmas?” he asked.
“No idea.”
“Seriously? You have no idea what to get her for Christmas?”
“I didn’t say that,” I stated. “I said I have no idea what you should get her for Christmas. There’s a difference.”
Mildred scratched at the back door. I let her in and then headed toward the refrigerator.
“What are you getting Lenni?” he asked.
I shook my head. “I’m not telling you.”
“That’s not fair.”
I grinned as I gave Mildred her pre-bedtime snack. She crunched on the carrot, and I swore she smiled in happiness.
“I’ll tell you what: I’ll go shopping with you,” I said. “Help you pick something out.”
“It’s got to be really good,” he said. “It’s her first Christmas with me. I have eleven Christmases to make up for.”
“That’s your first mistake.”
“What is?”
“You can’t get her one gift and expect it to make up for all the years you didn’t get to spend together.”
His maple-colored eyes turned somber. “It’s just a reminder that I didn’t get to see her. I don’t have photos or anything. I don’t even know what she looked like as a baby.”
Mildred trotted out of the kitchen and headed for the stairs. Her nails clacked lightly against the wooden steps as she went in search of Lenni.
“I’m making tea. You want some?” I asked him.
He sighed. “Not really.”
“Bourbon?”
“Yeah, that’s more like it.”
I nodded. After turning on the stove burner to let the water boil, I went to the cupboard and pulled out a rocks glass. The bourbon was on top of the cabinet, and I stood on my toes in an attempt to reach it, but somehow, even I was too short.
Archer slid up next to me, so close that his shirt brushed mine. He raised his arm and easily grasped the bottle. He held it in his hand as he turned to stare at me, but I refused to glance at him.
“Wyn. Look at me.”
“No.” I swiveled my head in the opposite direction so I couldn’t even see him out of the corner of my eye.
But I felt the heat of him. Smelled the scent of him. Warmth and sandalwood.
I gripped the counter and swayed.
“You sure you don’t want bourbon instead of tea?” he whispered, his breath teasing my hair.
“Definitely not.”
With a sigh, he stepped back and gave me space.
I wished he hadn’t.
I wanted him to set the bottle of bourbon down and splay his large hands on my hips and pull me toward him.
Instead, he uncorked the bottle and poured himself a glass.
The smart thing to do—purely from a self-preservation angle—was to leave and let him mull and drink in peace.
But I had never been very good at self-preservation.
I held in a sigh.
“Give me advice,” he said.
“Advice about what?”
“Lenni. Raising a girl. All that stuff. I feel like I’m failing.”
“You’re not failing. It’s barely been a week, Archer.”
“Jesus, has it really only been that long? That short, rather?”
“Yeah, I know, right?” I said with a laugh.
“Why do I feel like I’ve lived a lifetime?”
“Because emotions are exhausting. You’re too hard on yourself.”
“I just want to do it right.” He looked at me, his eyes earnest.
I held up one finger. “Happy.” I held up a second finger. “Safe.” I held up a third finger. “Loved. Those are the only things that really matter to us. Not just as kids, but as adults too.”
I frowned as I reached into a cabinet for a mug.
“What’s got you frowning?”
“I was just thinking about the kid I nannied for before Lenni,” I said.
“Parents were rich as sin. Owen will have the best of everything that money can buy, but I was the one who held him after his nightmares. He’d run into my room for comfort.
Not his parents’ room. He was only five, but he already knew his parents didn’t have time for him.
They don’t care about him the way you care about Lenni. ”
I unscrewed the mason jar of loose-leaf tea Muddy had given me and I yanked open the drawer that had the tea strainer.
“Why’d you become a nanny?” he asked.
“I like kids,” I said. “But I didn’t want to be a teacher. Controlled chaos I could handle. A room full of hyper kids? Not so much.”
He smiled slightly and took another sip of bourbon, but he didn’t reply.
“What would you have done?” I asked. “If you’d known about Lenni back then?”
“I would’ve stepped the fuck up. But Blair didn’t give me that choice, did she?”
“No, she didn’t.”
The water boiled and I turned off the burner. I let the kettle sit for a moment and then I poured the water over the strainer into the mug.
“We were nineteen,” he said. “I wouldn’t have known what to do, but I could’ve learned, you know? She didn’t even give me a chance.”
“So, you would have left the club?”
“No. The club is how I would have provided for her. The club takes care of its own.”
I cocked my head to the side. “But that’s not what Blair wanted. She didn’t want you to choose the club, but she knew you would.”
“You don’t just walk away from your brothers. The club is for life.”
“That’s not really true, is it?” I asked. “I mean, you’re out now.”
“Yeah, because of Brooks. He’s the reason we got to walk away clean.
” He sipped his drink. “He took the fall for a brother who already had a record. The guy had just had a baby girl, and Brooks didn’t want her to grow up without a father.
But he told our club president that in exchange for going to prison for a brother, he and I would be out, forever. ”
He laughed, but it wasn’t in humor. “Ironic, isn’t it?
Brooks went to prison so a biker brother could stick around and watch his daughter grow up, but the fucker died anyway when Brooks was only a few years into his sentence.
And I didn’t get a chance to watch my kid grow up because I didn’t even know about her. ”
Archer shook his head and then took a hefty swallow of bourbon. “My brother lost years of his life for nothing.” Shock permeated my face and Archer raised a brow. “You didn’t know about any of that, did you?”
I slowly shook my head. “How would I have known?”
“Poet. She knows. I thought for sure she’d already told you.”
“No.” My throat was tight. “The first time I knew anything about Brooks’ past was when you told Lenni about it. Poet didn’t say anything about it to me. Nothing concrete, anyway.”
“Oh.” He paused. “Tough broad.”
“Tougher than any of us gave her credit for,” I said. “Brooks going to prison wasn’t for nothing. If he hadn’t done that, you’d both still be in the club, right?”
“Yeah.”
“And then what would’ve happened to Lenni? She’d be with Nancy right now.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” His tone was bitter.
Before I knew it, I took a step toward him and placed a hand on his chest right over his heart.
His hand covered mine.
“She’s here now,” I reminded him. “And there’s only forward. Don’t look back, Archer. Looking back just fills you with regret.”
“Are you speaking from experience? At the ripe old age of twenty-four?”
“Twenty-three,” I corrected.
I tried to pull my hand back, but he wouldn’t let me. Instead, he bent his head ever so slightly. And right before he could meet my lips, I turned my face, so his mouth grazed my cheek.
Swallowing, I finally managed to pull my hand away. I grasped my tea and stepped away from him. “Good night, Archer.”
He let me escape to my room. Mildred wasn’t on my bed—so I knew she was snuggling with Lenni.
Lenni wasn’t mine.
Archer wasn’t mine.
But I was starting to feel like they were.