45. Troy
September, Present Day
Maple Ridge
“Troy,”George Cromwell, the head of the entertainment committee, says from the other end of the phone line. The rhythmic churr-churr-churr from the nail guns punctures the air as my crew frames what will be the infill home. “We’ve got a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” I walk toward the garden next door so I can hear him better. Hip-hop music booms from the open upstairs window of the neighbor’s house.
The pin-drop silence from George’s end of the phone drowns out all other noises. Whatever’s going on, he’s not excited about being the messenger.
“Spill it. What’s the problem?” I nudge.
“There’s no easy way for me to tell you this. Pushing Limits had to pull out of the festival.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity. Fuck. This isn’t just a problem. This is a major catastrophe. Pushing Limits is the reason most people are coming to the event. With the band canceling, ticket holders might want a refund instead of coming to see the other acts. We have a number of great up-and-coming bands, but they aren’t Pushing Limits.
My stomach aches thinking about what this means for the people I was hoping to help with the money raised from the festival proceeds.
I reverse a step and collide with a bush. Branches jab into the back of my thigh. “Did they say why?” I glance briefly down and move away from the rose bush. My attention returns to the frame my crew’s working on and the phone conversation.
“The drummer, Tomas York, was in a car accident,” George explains. “He’ll be okay, but he’s out of commission for at least a month. Their management apologized for the inconvenience.”
“Any suggestions what we can do to save the event?” Rescheduling isn’t possible at this point. The festival is in three and a half weeks.
“Sorry, I’m fresh out of ideas. I’ll set up an emergency meeting for 5:00 p.m. today and send out an SOS to get as many committee members to attend as possible. We can brainstorm possible solutions then.”
“Alright. Do that. And then remind me never to do something like this again.” I run my hand down my face, wishing that was all it would take to fix this.
George chuckles, the sound falling on the sympathetic side of things. “Will do.”
I phone Jess. She answers right away. “Carson Construction. How may I help you?”
For a second, I push aside my conversation with George and focus on the sweet sound of the woman I love. It won’t solve the situation with Pushing Limits pulling out, but her voice is what I need to hear right now.
“How’re things going?” I allow a smile onto my face and into my voice. “Any trouble?”
A hard sigh comes through the phone, and I instantly brace for more bad news. I have a feeling Jess’s news has nothing to do with Pushing Limits.
“Another client canceled,” Jess says. “Jeremy Webb.”
My smile shatters. That isn’t what I needed to hear right now either. “Did he give a reason?”
“The same one Roger Carmichael gave. They don’t like the idea of you hiring an ex-con. He’s worried about his children and what having someone like me around means to their safety.”
I tighten my grip on my phone. “Christ, that’s such bullshit.”
“I know. I’m sorry, Troy.” She sounds so heartbroken, I’m torn between rushing to the office to pull her into my arms and giving Jeremy a piece of my mind for his ignorant comment. Why do people have to keep accusing her of these goddamn lies?
Shit, as if she doesn’t have enough going on as it is, now the job is fucking with her mental health. “It’s not your fault, Jess. Don’t apologize. You’ve done nothing to deserve those attitudes.”
“I know,” she whispers, her words lacking any hint of conviction. “Other than that, everything else is going well.”
Maybe at the office.
“I’m going to be late tonight,” I tell her. “I have an emergency festival committee meeting at five.”
“What’s the emergency?”
I don’t answer right away, wanting to shield her from more bad news, but she’s going to find out about it soon enough. “Pushing Limits had to cancel.”
“Oh, no! What happened?”
“Their drummer was injured in a car accident and is unable to play for at least a month, so we need to figure out what to do.”
“Can I come? Maybe there’s something I can do to help.”
“Sure.” I can use all the help I can get. “Sounds good.”
We end the call, and I phone Lucas to rebook my PT appointment with him since I won’t make it today.
“Sorry about the band having to pull out,” he says after I tell him what happened. “Let me know if there’s anything I can do to help.”
“Why did you have to give up your drumming lessons when you were a kid?” My question comes out on a half-hearted grumble.
Lucas releases a sharp bark of a laugh. “Because I sucked at it. As you pointed out several times.”
I laugh, a low rumble in my throat, despite the world falling apart around me. “Yeah, I do seem to remember that part.”
* * *
An hour later,Lance and I are studying a blueprint stretched out on the hood of my truck when he releases a low wolf whistle.
I turn to where he’s looking.
Olivia’s walking up the sidewalk, carrying her picnic basket. She’s wearing a yellow sundress and a wide grin. “Hey, Athos. I thought you and I could have lunch.”
I return the smile, but mine is nowhere near as bright as hers. Too much crap is falling on my shoulders, especially today, for me to muster the energy to do better than that.
“You look pretty,” Lance says, his expression soft. Damn, he has it bad for her. “The dress looks great on you.”
“Thanks.” She gives him a twirl, and I swear my foreman freaking swoons.
I bite back a laugh. I can’t remember the last time he acted this way around a woman. Hell, I can’t remember the last time he hooked up with one. “Where’s Nova?” I ask.
“At my mom’s. So, are you free for lunch?”
“Sure.” I let Lance know he can tell everyone to break for lunch.
“On it, Boss.” He pushes away from the hood of the truck.
“Actually, I was hoping just you and I could have a picnic together,” Olivia tells me. “We need to talk. In private.”
Never in the history of “we need to talk” has it ever ended well. Olivia has already banned me from letting Jess hang out with Nova and me. What more can there be?
Lance must be wondering the same. His eyebrows are raised as if silently asking me that very question.
“Okay. Where do you want to go? I can’t be long, though. I have a festival committee meeting later, and I have lots to do before then.”
Lance leaves to talk to the crew.
Olivia flashes me a smile, easing my fear that she’s about to dump more bad news on me today. “Why don’t we go to the park? We should be able to find a quiet spot there.”
I walk with Olivia to the nearby neighborhood park. We sit on the empty bench in the shade of a maple tree overlooking the fountain. Several young kids are chasing each other around it, their giggles and shrieks heard over the splash of the water.
“What did you wanna talk about?” I ask as Olivia passes me a turkey club sandwich. Cranberry sauce peeks from between the bread.
“Savannah.” There’s a fine edge of distaste in Olivia’s tone, and every muscle in my body tenses. I don’t have the time for this. Or the stomach.
“Her name is Jess. What about her?” Irritation hammers my consonants flat, hardens my vowels.
Deep creases form between Olivia’s eyes. It’s her I’ve-got-something-to-say frown. Her you’re-not-going-to-like-it frown. “You’re making a big mistake dating her.”
“C’mon.” I scowl at Olivia, something I never used to do with her—not until recently, when she first disagreed with my choice of girlfriend. “Give her a chance before you condemn her like everyone else has.”
Olivia’s frown falls away, and she glances to where the kids are chasing each other. “I have a child to think of, Troy. You know Nova will always come first for me…and that includes her safety. Katelyn told me more about Savannah’s past, and I’m just thinking about my daughter.”
For Christ’s sake. Why do so many of my problems lately seem to point back to Katelyn? “Don’t believe everything Katelyn tells you. She let everyone believe I’d had sex with her when I hadn’t.”
Olivia’s eyes widen for a quick beat, my revelation clearly surprising her. Guess she’d heard that rumor too. She’s never asked me about it. But then, she’s never asked me about any of the women I’ve hooked up with in the past. Given her opinion about my girlfriends? Yes. But never the hookups.
“You know me better than a lot of people,” I remind her, “so why are you acting like I’m incapable of seeing someone for who they are?”
“That’s not what I’m doing?—”
“That’s exactly what you’re doing. Remember, if it hadn’t been for Cora, no one would have known about Jess’s past beyond those she confided in. Why? Because Jess has never given anyone a reason to not trust her or believe she’s a dangerous offender.”
I don’t want to throw Cora’s self-absorbed behavior in her sister’s face, but Olivia hasn’t given me a choice. “Jess is the victim in this,” I point out, my annoyance at the situation and this conversation being no less than it was a moment ago.
Olivia scoffs. “How the heck is she the victim?”
“All she wanted was to start a new life after all the terrible things that happened to her. She didn’t ask to marry a man who manipulated and abused her. She didn’t ask for someone to murder him.” I’m not sorry that someone did, but I am sorry for what it cost Jess. “His death should have meant she was finally free. But instead, she was framed for his murder and lost her child. The child she loved like you love Nova.”
I turn to watch the kids climb onto the side of the fountain and toss coins into it. “How would you feel if someone took Nova from you, and you were forced to give up your parental rights because you thought it was the right thing to do? All Jess is trying to do is live the life she deserves after everything she’s been forced to endure. But thanks to your sister, she can’t do that.” I narrow my eyes at Olivia, still unable to believe we’re having this conversation. Still unable to believe one of my best friends is acting as though Jess is a monster. “Ignorant people who think they have the right to harass Jess have bullied her. What gives you the right to do the same, Olivia?”
“Because I love you, Troy.” The words are flung at me with the force of a missile, her tone soft and certain. “And I know you love me too. And you love Nova like a daughter. We’re a family.” She looks at the fountain and releases a wistful sigh. A young couple is sitting on the edge of it, away from the kids, and they’re kissing.
“You’re right. I do love you, Aramis.” I try not to groan at her confession and the way she’s gazing longingly at the couple. “I love you, but not in the same way I love Jess.”
Olivia’s body jerks as if I’ve slapped her, and something flashes in her eyes. Hurt? Frustration? Jealousy? “You’re getting it all wrong.”
I frown. “I’m getting it all wrong? What exactly am I getting wrong?”
“We’re supposed to be together.” Her voice is a choked whisper. “Isn’t that what you promised Colton?”
I close my eyes for a second against the growing headache that’s not just the result of this conversation. “Olivia, I didn’t promise him you and I would become a family.” Now, it’s my words that are whispered, the pain of losing my other best friend too close to the surface. “I promised him I would be there for you and Nova if one day he couldn’t. But I never promised to take his place.”
Olivia’s face crumples in genuine pain, the pain I witnessed on her so much during the first year following his death.
She leans forward on the bench and covers her face with her hands. “I miss him so much. Why did he have to die?”
My frustration and the tension in my muscles fade, her words tightening around my heart and my throat. I pull her to me and hug her like I did in the early days after he took his life. And as she did back then, she sobs against my chest. I can see now how much Olivia came to rely on me, how she might have taken my feelings for her to mean something else.
She’s one of my best friends, but she’ll never be more than that. I love her, but I’ll never love her the way I love Jess.
I hold Olivia while she sobs. She’s not crying because I told her the truth about how I’m in love with Jess. I know these tears are all for Colton. They’re a reminder of how I failed him.
They’re a reminder of how I’m going to fail so many other widows like her if I can’t fix the latest issue with the festival.
“I might not love you like you want me to,” I say. “But I know someone who does love you like you deserve to be loved.” Someone who I have no doubt will love her like Colton did.
Her eyes widen, teardrops sparkling on her lashes. “Who?”
I smile and wipe away her stray tears. “Are you really that oblivious?”
She lifts her shoulders. “Apparently.”
Christ, I hope Lance doesn’t hate me for what I’m about to tell her. If she were anyone else, I wouldn’t say anything and would let them muddle through things themselves. But this is Lance and Olivia.
“Lance. Does the name ring a bell?”
Olivia smacks me in the chest, and a light laugh escapes her. “Smart-ass.”
“You talking about me or Lance?” I rub the spot where she hit me, pretending to be wounded.
“Why would you think Lance is in love with me?”
I make a noise that is part laugh, part groan. “I know it’s been quite a few years since you were last single, but you can’t be that oblivious, Aramis.”
She rolls her eyes. “Clearly, I am, Athos. So, you might as well spell it out.”
I wait a beat, drawing out the suspense, and stand. “You know what?”
She glances up at me, her expression hopeful, her smile relieved. “What?”
“I’m gonna let you figure that out yourself.” I tap her on the nose like I used to do when we were kids. “I might as well have some fun out of this.”
She laughs, and the spark I remember from before we lost Colton flares to life in her eyes. “Fine. You have your fun at my expense.”
“I’m sure I will.” All humor fades from my expression. “Are you going to be okay?” I’m not talking about Lance or about how I’m determined to stay with Jess. I’m referring to how Olivia misses the man she has loved for a good part of her life.
“I think so.” She looks like she’s going to say something else but then changes her mind. She glances at her phone. “I should get back to my parents and pick up Nova.”
“I should get back to work before Lance sends a search party. But I really wish you would give Jess a chance. I know you’d like her if you got to know her.”
Olivia picks up her picnic basket next to her on the bench. “Just promise me you’ll be careful, Troy.”
“I’m always careful.” Except being careful is the least of my concerns right now.