Chapter 27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Holt
“After you,” I say, holding the door open for Blaire.
The chaos from my parents’ house slams into us as soon as we enter. It’s the sound of home to me—family and food and fun all blended together into one crazy cacophony of the life that I love.
I watch Blaire out of the corner of my eye. This scene can be a lot to absorb, but she looks unfazed.
Larissa is in the kitchen with my mother. Steam rises from the sink as they put together a “quick brunch,” as my mom called it. It’ll be a full meal. It always is. My father and brothers sit at the dining room table off the kitchen with cups of coffee in their hands.
They greet us with waves and hellos.
Except Coy. He gets to his feet.
“Hey, Lover Boy,” Coy calls as he walks toward us. His cocky smile is tinted with just enough kindness to keep me from punching him in the face. “I thought Boone was lying when he said you brought a woman to my show last night.”
Blaire reaches for my hand. I let her take it and hope that it’s a show of solidarity between us and not to keep herself steady because of Coy.
He stops in front of us. His hair has been lightened and sticks up in a complete mess that I think is intentional. His jeans are ripped. I know Mom doesn’t understand the phrase on his shirt because she’d never allow it in her house.
It’s Coy, pure and simple. The ornery one of the bunch. The rule-bender and boundary-pusher that he’s always been.
Despite his don’t-give-a-fuck vibe and history of bad decisions, I still have a ton of respect for him. He has an innate business sense like Oliver and me. He just uses it in a different way.
He slips his hands in his pockets and fires Blaire a grin. “I hope you liked my show.”
“It was very entertaining,” she replies. “Your fans certainly got their money’s worth.”
“Two of them did.” He wiggles his eyebrows. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you. Good to see you, too, big brother.”
“Nice to see you too. How’s tour life?”
“Not bad. I have one more stop in Miami, and then we’re done.” He runs a hand through his hair. “It’ll be nice not to live out of a suitcase for a while.”
“Ah, rock star problems,” I joke.
His grin is cheeky. “What can I say? It’s a hard life, man.”
“When do we get to meet Willa Welch?” I ask.
Blaire looks at me. “The actress?”
“My brother somehow landed the biggest upcoming actress in Hollywood,” I tell Blaire. “Can you imagine that?”
Her cheeks flush. “Well …”
Coy bursts out laughing. “Of course, she can. Have you seen me?”
“Yeah. I have. And I’ve also seen you put a Sparkler in your ass and light it on the Fourth of July. So, color me surprised that someone with class might want to hook up with you,” I say, much to both of their entertainment.
“I remember that!” Boone calls from the table. “I think I have it on video somewhere.”
Blaire’s giggles beside me are all I hear.
“Nah, that shit with Willa is fake,” Coy says. “She’s really dating the drummer from Wrecked. My label wanted me to clean up my image a little bit. And her agent wanted to dirty up hers. So they tell us where to be together and when. We show up, follow the script, and go on our merry way.”
“Contractual relationships. Makes a lot of sense,” Blaire says, side-eyeing me with a grin.
Coy shrugs. “I just try to keep everyone happy.”
“That’s what you said on Christmas the morning you tried to start breakfast before Mom woke up,” Wade says.
“And you about caught the kitchen on fire,” Boone says, laughing.
My brothers discuss the tales of holidays gone wrong while I just look at the woman holding my hand.
She glances up at me, ignoring the craziness around her, and smiles.
It’s an easy, sweet, supportive gesture that silences any concern I had for bringing her here.
I wasn’t going to ask her. Why bother introducing her to everyone when they’ll never see her again?
But it didn’t feel right coming without her either.
Now that we’re here, I know I made the right call.
I don’t know what that means exactly. But I’m not going to overthink it.
“I’m sorry. I had to get that mess cleaned up, or it would’ve sat there all day.” My mother comes rushing toward us—meaning Blaire. “How rude, I know.”
“Mrs. Mason, really, it’s fine,” Blaire says, accepting a hug from my mom. “Thank you for inviting me over this afternoon.”
My mom runs a hand through the air. “First, it’s Siggy, darling. Second, you have no idea how excited I am to have you here. I’m thrilled.”
“Are you thrilled to see me too?” I ask.
Mom laughs. “You know I always love to see your sweet face.”
Blaire looks at me and makes a face. I laugh.
“Okay,” Mom says. “Come. Sit. Let’s eat.” She turns toward the dining room table. “Come make your plate, boys. I’m your mother, not your servant.”
Chairs push back against the tile as my family makes their way into the kitchen. Coy and Boone tease Larissa about something that earns them a smack from Mom.
“Holton, how is the Landry project coming along?” Dad asks, joining Blaire and me near the sofa. “Oliver was just saying that you had an epiphany last night.”
I look down at Blaire and smile. “I didn’t. She did.”
Dad’s brows shoot toward the ceiling. “Is that right?”
“It was nothing,” Blaire says, beaming. “I had just read an article that gave me an idea. I’m glad it worked out.”
“Worked out? It’s fucking brilliant!” Oliver shouts from the kitchen. “And Holt didn’t tell me it was your idea.”
Blaire gasps in faux shock.
“I did too,” I fire back.
Oliver just chuckles and goes back to making his plate.
The ice cubes in my father’s drink clink together as he examines Blaire. “Do you have any other brilliant insights to share on easements? Because I’m having a legal dispute with my neighbor to the right.”
Blaire’s eyes light up. “I don’t know. Try me.”
“Holt! Can you help me with this?” My mom shouts from the kitchen.
I look down at Blaire. I don’t want to leave her here if she’s uncomfortable, considering she’s spent exactly thirty seconds with my father. But the shine in her eye and the wide grin on her face tell me she’s perfectly happy talking legal bullshit with Dad.
“Go on,” she says. “This is my wheelhouse.”
“Good luck to you. Dad will talk your ear off,” I say, earning a clap on the back from my father.
I make my way into the kitchen, slipping in a quick hug from Larissa as I walk by. She jabs me in the ribs in an apparent ode to Blaire coming to a family event again, but I ignore it.
My mother points at a box on the top shelf. “Can you grab that?”
“You couldn’t have one of these assholes get it?”
“They’re filling their plates,” she says. “Besides, I wanted to talk to you.”
I know. I knew it when she pretended to need my help.
The cereal box that has nothing to do with brunch is retrieved from its spot next to the crackers. I hand it to my mom.
“She’s lovely,” Mom whispers. “She’s so, so lovely, Holton.”
“She’s lovely,” Boone whispers sarcastically as he walks by.
I glare at him. He laughs.
“Should I get used to seeing her around?” Mom asks. “We’re having the Champagne and Crudites event at the Country Club next week, and I’d love to invite her.”
I glance at Blaire over my shoulder. She’s engaged in a conversation with my father, who looks captivated by her.
I get it, Dad. Me too.
“She’s going back to Chicago in a couple of days,” I say before turning around to face my mother again.
She looks confused. “To get her things? To see her family?”
“To work.” I blow out a breath “She’s … She doesn’t live here. And she’s not going to. Her life is in Illinois.”
“But I thought …”
Oliver approaches us from the table. He looks between my mom and me.
“Hey, I need to talk to you for a second,” he tells me, motioning toward the hallway.
“We will reconvene this conversation later,” Mom warns.
I roll my eyes and follow Oliver into the hallway next to the dining room.
My back hits the wall as I exhale all the stress that was just heaped on my shoulders.
“I figured you needed a reprieve from that bullshit,” Oliver says.
“Thanks.”
I run my hand through my hair as I hear my mother calling Dad and Blaire to the kitchen. It sounds so normal and something I could totally get used to … in a perfect world.
One we don’t live in.
“You’ve gotten yourself in deep with all of this Blaire stuff,” Oliver says quietly. “I know it. But you’re going to have to block out Mom and Dad and whatever else and focus. I need you, bud.”
I blow out another breath.
“I know. I’m here. I promise,” I tell him.
He leans against the wall next to me. We stare out the windows and into the front yard. The ferns my mother hangs off the porch every year sway in the breeze.
“You can do both things, you know,” Oliver says.
“What two things?”
“You can work and have a relationship.”
My head hits the drywall.
I can’t have both. I can’t have both for so many reasons.
“She’s going home soon, right?” he asks.
I nod.
“Do you know where you stand with her?” he asks.
“Yeah. She’s going home.”
The words fall flat into the air.
Oliver sighs. “Is she going home because she wants to? Or because you didn’t give her the choice?”
I roll my head to the side and look at my brother. “Are you a relationship expert now?”
“No, but I don’t have my head clouded by Blaire’s pussy either.”
I groan.
He’s right. Of course. And I hate that he’s right this time more than ever.
My head is clouded. I do feel pulled. Two things I hate even more than Ollie being right.
“Listen, I—” I begin, but Oliver’s chuckle stops me. “What?”
“You’re getting ready to talk in a circle and give me a bunch of excuses as to why you can’t do what you want.”
“Fuck you.”
“I’m not fucking you when she leaves.” He turns his body so we’re facing head-on. “Because she’s gonna leave you, Holt. Are you ready for that? If you think you’re distracted now, think about what that’s gonna be like.”
My blood boils from the tone of his voice and the words spilling from his mouth.
“She has to leave me.”
“Oh, wise one. Please explain.”
“You know how our lives work,” I tell him. “I need to be in the office for twelve fucking hours a day. Sometimes, fourteen. Fuck, isn’t that why you just pulled me in here? Your first words were that you need me to focus.”
“Yes, but—”
“Then fuck you, Ollie.”
I blow out a breath that’s red-hot. My brother’s features darken as he takes the start of my wrath.
“I have to be ready for her to leave because she’s going to,” I say. “And she should.”
“How can you say that?”
“How can you say anything differently? You don’t know the ins and outs of our relationship.”
“But you’re admitting you have a relationship, right?”
I roll my head around my neck. The bones pop from stress.
He doesn’t understand that being with me will kill her. It will ruin her life. If she thought Jack didn’t have time for her, she’d end up hating me.
I’d rather have her and the sweet memories from this week than have her loathe me in the future. And there’s no way at all that I will risk causing her pain by not being the man she needs—the available, present, considerate one.
Not even if it’s what I want to do.
My chest heaves a breath to keep from cracking apart.
“Look,” Oliver says, “I’m letting you know what I see. And I’ve seen you walk around with this frivolity that’s nice to see. You’ve eased up. You came today without a fight.”
“Because Coy is here.”
Oliver looks unconvinced. “Do you realize you had a ten-minute conversation with Boone last night about Christmas in Aspen?” He grins. “You refuse to discuss the holidays until at least Halloween.”
He’s right. A-fucking-gain. But it doesn’t change anything.
How I feel doesn’t change what I know to be true—I cannot be what Blaire needs. She’s already been let down by one guy who couldn’t be there for her. I don’t want to be the same.
I won’t.
It’s as simple as that.
It’s as frustratingly, heartbreakingly simple as that.
I sigh. “Where do you think I’ll find the time to take care of someone’s emotional needs?”
“She’s not a fucking dog, Holt.”
“No. She’s a human being who needs support and time and energy. She deserves that. And unfortunately for all of us, I don’t have that to spare.”
He sighs, seemingly as frustrated as I am. “I get it. I do. I just … I like what she’s done to you. And she seems like a pretty great girl.”
“Yeah, well, she is.”
He frowns.
Doesn’t he understand that I want to make things work? Doesn’t he realize how hard it’s going to be to watch her pack her things and pull out of my driveway?
Doesn’t he know I’ll think of her every evening when I come home from work and miss the fuck out of her? Doesn’t he know that I’ll never be able to see a horse and carriage and not be reminded of the beautiful woman who gave me a piece of her life?
But that’s all I get. A piece of her life. Because if I ask for more, I’ll ruin her.
“Holton! Oliver! Let’s eat,” Mom calls from the dining room.
Oliver watches me, giving me one final chance to correct myself.
But I don’t.
“Coming,” I say, walking around him.
Blaire is standing next to the wall with her hands on the back of a chair. Two plates of food sit in front of her.
She turns to face me, and I stop in my tracks.
There’s a hurricane building in her blue eyes.
What’s this all about? Who said something to cause this?
“Take your seats, kids,” Dad orders.
I pull out Blaire’s chair, and she sits. I take mine beside her.
Before I can ask her what’s wrong, Dad has us bowing our heads to pray.
I take her hand beneath the table and give it a squeeze. I also add a little line to the prayer for God to help Blaire and me figure this out.