Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
Coy
“There better be meatloaf left,” I say as we step into Mom’s kitchen.
I close the door behind Bellamy.
The room is loud and chaotic like it always is when my brothers gather for dinner.
Wade stands next to the pantry with our father, talking about something that’s guaranteed to be mind-numbingly boring.
Holt and Oliver sit at the table with cups of coffee and smug little grins on their faces.
Boone is perched on the counter, his hand in a bowl of Chex Mix while he listens to Holt’s girlfriend, Blaire, rattle on about something that seems to hold his interest.
Mom, on the other hand, busies herself around everyone with a sponge in her hand and a contented smile on her face.
I wrap an arm around Bellamy’s waist and hold her close to my side.
“If we knew you were coming, Bells, we would’ve saved you a piece,” Holt jokes.
“There’s enough for both of you,” Mom tells me and Bellamy. She shoots Holt a look. “You be nice.”
“It smells great, Siggy,” Bellamy tells her.
Mom beams. “Come in here and let’s fix your plates.”
We follow her to the stove. Kettles and pans sit on the stovetop with the remnants of dinner. Because Mom can only cook for an army, plenty of food is left.
Mom hands us plates. “What did you two do today?”
“I golfed earlier and then hung out at Boone’s,” I tell her as I motion for Bellamy to fill her plate first.
“I gave him life advice,” Boone says before filling his mouth with Chex Mix.
“Are you that desperate?” Oliver asks. “For fuck’s sake, Coy, hire a therapist. Or bring me a bottle of gin and I’ll give you all the advice you need.”
Blaire turns around and faces us. “Boone just shared a few semi-remarkable observations with me. I think he’s on the precipice of enlightenment.”
Everyone laughs but Boone. He screws up his face.
“I don’t want to be enlightened.” He sighs. “No more podcasts for me while I run. I’m going back to songs about cars and money.”
Dad laughs. “Of course, you listen to songs about two things you know nothing about.”
Even Boone can’t help but laugh at Dad’s joke.
They continue discussing Boone’s obsession with cars and podcasts while I take my turn piling food on my plate.
Bellamy exchanges hellos with Blaire, and I realize they have never met before.
It doesn’t seem to bother either of them, though, and they banter back and forth with an ease that makes me happy. It feels natural.
It is natural.
Something my dad said to me a few days ago right in this very kitchen filters through my mind.
There will come a day when you just know. And then it’s over.
I force a swallow down my throat.
When he shared that thought with me, I remember thinking it didn’t sound fun at all. That having my life over, as he suggested, sounded as boring as watching the same show on television for the rest of my life.
But if this is what he meant, my life doesn’t feel over at all. I thought I wanted someone who didn’t need me at their beck and call, who didn’t need me to make compromises to make her happy. Yet … maybe I do want her to need me. To make compromises. Odd.
I watch Bellamy tease Boone, making Blaire laugh. She reminds me of my mother and how she just fits in and makes everyone feel comfortable.
It’s a good thing. A very good thing. A very good thing that I have to make sure I don’t mess up—for her and for me.
Mom sets two glasses on the table across from Holt and Oliver. Bellamy and I sit down.
“Thank you, Siggy,” she says. “This looks great.”
“Thanks, Mama.”
Mom ruffles her hand through my hair as she walks by. “You’re both very welcome.”
My two oldest brothers watch Bellamy and me.
They’ve spent the least amount of time with her out of our family.
Holt and Oliver were both older than us and didn’t want to be bothered by our shenanigans.
Mostly because they were up to their own bullshit and only needed us to cover when things went awry.
Still, they look curious and maybe even pleased.
I scoot my chair a little closer to Bells without even thinking about it.
“What have you two been up to?” I ask my brothers.
Oliver smiles. “Celebrating.”
“Why?” I ask before popping a piece of meatloaf into my mouth.
“Rosie retired.” Holt sits back in his chair. “Finally.”
Bellamy laughs. “Are you just excited for her or what? I’m getting weird vibes here.”
Oliver laughs too. “Rosie is one hundred years old. She should’ve retired half a century ago, but Holt and I didn’t have the heart to fire her.”
Holt looks over his shoulder toward Wade and smirks. “We even tried to pawn her off on Wade once.”
Wade hears his name and switches his attention to the table.
“You liked Rosie, didn’t you, Wade?” Oliver teases him.
“I did. She was efficient and polite,” Wade says.
“I remember this,” I say, stabbing the green beans with my fork. “Rosie got her feelings hurt so you guys took her back, right?”
Oliver nods. “We did. We’re suckers.”
“But now she’s going to ride off into the sunset with her grandkids—”
“Must be nice!” Mom interjects, firing a very pointed look at Holt.
“Tell her,” Holt says, pointing at his girlfriend. “I’ll put a baby up in that as soon as she lets me.”
I look at Blaire. She’s trying to hide her embarrassment.
“That’s … Let’s discuss that somewhere not amid your entire family, please,” she says, grinning.
Holt wiggles his eyebrows at her.
“So, now we get to replace her,” Oliver says. “Rosie, not Blaire.”
Bellamy sets her fork down next to her plate. “I saw the perfect retirement house today. I think it’s probably sold, but it would’ve made the perfect place to just go and relax and enjoy your life.”
I set my fork down too. “Is that the one you went to with Riss?”
She nods.
“Where was it?” Oliver asks.
“I honestly have no idea.” Bellamy laughs. “It was on Bittersweet Court. I just remember that street name because it felt so lovely.”
Boone hops off the counter. “Hey, yeah, Riss was telling me about that place. Apparently, you’re quite the little realtor.”
“You are?” I look at her. “What happened?”
She blushes as my brothers, except Wade, look at her.
“I just … I don’t know. I told this couple who was looking at the house with their actual realtor all the things I’d do to it if it were mine.
” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Connie, that’s the realtor’s name, wasn’t doing the house justice.
And it broke my heart that it was starting to get dilapidated.
So I sold it. I think. I mean, I didn’t,” she stammers. “I just … maybe I helped.”
She looks so proud of herself that it makes me proud of her.
I grab her hand under the table and lace our fingers together.
She looks at me, her cheeks flushing.
“Have you ever thought about being a realtor?” I ask her. “I can see you being great at that. You can be so convincing.”
Holt snorts. “Oh, like she had to convince you to see the light about the two of you. You’ve been in love with Bells since you were toddlers.”
I don’t know whether to agree or disagree with that.
My brothers snicker at my expense.
“What’s not to love?” I ask, squeezing Bellamy’s hand.
Her brows raise as if she’s surprised about my semi-declaration in front of my family. I pause, waiting to see if I’ll feel the same. If I’ll regret it. If it was an impulse statement stemming from her proximity or hormones.
But with each second that passes, I feel more content.
There will come a day when you just know. And …
It’s a weight off my shoulders, a burden I’ve been carrying that I didn’t even realize. The tension that always sits at the bottom of my skull, the undercurrent that swims through me every day that something is not quite right—it’s gone.
I could never put my finger on it. I always attributed it to residual stress, or being behind on deadlines, or anxiety about the press, or ticket sales, or balancing everything in my life.
But it’s clear at this moment it was none of those things.
It was not having her.
My brain, my heart—fuck, my soul—knew what I needed. I just didn’t listen.
I smile at her, and when she smiles back with a happiness that encompasses her, a shock of fear pelts my heart.
What if I ruin that? What if I fuck it up? What if she can’t handle my life or sees something in the media that makes her second-guess me?
What if … what if she realizes she doesn’t love me, after all?
What if she realizes I’m not good enough for her?
My body stills as my palms begin to sweat. Bellamy’s smile wobbles as she takes me in. She reads me like only she can and squeezes my hand back.
Our heads all turn as the side door opens. Larissa and Hollis walk in together.
The volume increases as everyone shares hellos, and Mom ushers them into the kitchen to get food. Bellamy and Oliver strike up a conversation about houses, and Holt gets sidetracked by Blaire.
Hollis slips out of the kitchen and crouches down beside my chair.
“Hey, man,” he says. “I got into town pretty late last night. I was going to call you today.”
“No worries. How have ya been?”
He nods. “Pretty damn good, I guess. You?”
I glance at Bellamy. She rests her chin on her hand as she listens to Oliver drone on about architecture.
“Pretty damn good, too,” I say, turning back to Hollis. “I’m probably going to have to get an album together quickly coming up, so if you have any inspiration or poems or lyrics, fire ’em my way.”
His eyes twinkle. He loves music as much as I do.
It’s happenstance that we met—two guys from different places and very different lives.
But from the moment he walked into the library upstairs on New Year’s Eve and sat at the piano, our friendship has been the easiest, coolest, and most organic connection I’ve ever had with a guy.
He works his ass off. The eagerness this dude has to learn and absorb is wild. His creative streak and natural talent are insane, and if anyone deserves to have a chance to better himself, it’s Hollis Hudson.
Without a doubt.
“I always have ideas,” he says, stealing a glance at Larissa. “Feeling really inspired lately.”
A melody that began to surface in the middle of breakfast starts to trickle through my mind again.
“Yeah. Same.” Finally.
We exchange a smile that says everything that needs to be said.
Larissa barrels into the room like the shot of sunshine that she is. She does a little dance at seeing Bellamy and me together.
“I love this!” she squeals. “I don’t have to pretend the other one of you doesn’t exist. Hooray!”
“Tone down the excitement, Riss,” Holt says, shaking his head. “It’s not like you didn’t see this coming.”
She makes a face. “I didn’t. I mean, I totally did. I’d just started to give up on it happening.”
“You do know we’re sitting right here, right?” Bellamy laughs.
“Yeah. Together.” Larissa makes a face. “Holtie, if you’re done, can I have your chair so I can eat?”
Holt grumbles but gets up. Oliver stands, offering his chair to Hollis.
“Do you guys want to double date tomorrow? We could do brunch,” Larissa offers, looking at us expectantly.
Bellamy shifts in her seat. “I have to take Dad for a scan tomorrow,” she says quietly. “I won’t be home until the afternoon.” She looks at me and tries to deflect from the topic of her father. “No Bree for you tomorrow.”
I grin as if that’s a relief, but internally, my stomach twists.
I don’t know what a scan means or what the implications of that are, but I can tell it’s eating at Bellamy. And I’m irritated she didn’t bring it up before now. With me.
Doesn’t she know that I want to know this? I want to know everything.
Mom rounds the corner as she wipes her hands on a white towel. “Where are the two of you going?” she asks my brothers.
“Blaire and I are flying to Chicago for a couple of days in the morning,” Holt says. “I need to tie up a few things here before we go.”
“I’m going to see Gramps,” Oliver says. “Did you make him a plate?”
Mom nods. “Yes. Don’t leave without it. And tell him that he’s coming next week or we’re sending your dad over to get him.”
Holt looks down at me. “Will I see you before you leave?”
Bellamy slips her hand out of mine. I whip my head to her to see her attempting to hide the nervousness in her face.
“Yeah. For sure,” I tell him, even though I’m not sure at all. “I’ll find ya before I go.”
“Cool.” He takes his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll see everybody later.”
“Bye, guys,” Oliver says, following him to the side door where Blaire is standing.
“See ya, kids,” Dad says. He walks past the table and knocks the wood with his knuckle. “We’re going to watch a movie upstairs. If you guys wanna come …”
I look at my girl. “I think we’re going to head back to Bells’s house and watch a movie together.”
Relief washes across her pretty features.
Dad nods. “It was nice seeing you today, Bellamy. Let me know if you or your old man need anything, all right?”
“Thank you, Rodney. I will,” she says.
Dad pauses as if he’s going to say something else before disappearing around the corner with Wade.
The air in the room changes—especially between Bellamy and me. I know that a chord was just struck with her about me leaving, and she’s probably dying for an answer.
Well, me too.
I watch Boone try to toss pieces of Chex Mix up in the air and catch them in his mouth.
“We’re going to get going,” I say, getting to my feet. I take Bells’s empty plate and carry them to the dishwasher. “Mom, we’re leaving.”
She walks to me and kisses my cheek. Then she turns to Bellamy and engulfs her in a mom hug.
I watch my girl’s eyes close, and as she sighs, I wonder how many hugs she and my mom have shared over the years when Mom knew Bells needed one.
God, I love my mom.
“Sweetheart, you come by any time. And now that you and Coy are friends again,” she says with a grin, “I expect to see you around more often.”
Bellamy smiles shyly. “Thanks, Siggy.”
“Of course.” Mom winks at me. “You be good to her.”
I wink back at her, earning me a smack on the arm.
“Love you, Mom.”
“Love you, Coy.”
I take Bellamy’s hand and lead her to the door.
“See you guys later,” I call out to whoever is still hanging around.
“Bye,” Bellamy says as a chorus of goodbyes fills the room.
We step outside into the chilly air. I tug off my sweatshirt and hand it to my girl.
She holds it in her hand. “What are you doing? Disrobing right here? Can’t you wait to get back to my place?”
“Put it on,” I instruct her. “It’s cold.”
“I have on a long-sleeved shirt. You’re now in a T-shirt.” She holds it out to me. “You need this more than I do.”
“Put. It. On.”
She tries to hold out but gives up quicker than I expect and slides it over her head.
“There. Happy?” she asks.
“Happier.”
She snorts and heads toward the gate.