Chapter 2
LINCOLN
“Iunderstand that this is hard for you, Cynthia, but it’s what’s best for our son,” I say for the third time in as many minutes.
In the distance, I hear a loud squeal, followed by raucous laughter coming from Easton’s backyard. I glance through the slat blinds, wondering what I’m missing out on.
A party rages outside. Meanwhile I’m locked away in my brother’s home office, staring at his walls of hockey memorabilia and trying to reassure my crying ex-wife over the phone.
Cynthia sniffles again. “I know. I know. It’s just…”
“Trust me. You don’t need to worry about anything.” I pace back and forth across the carpeted floor as I speak. “I have everything under control.” I square my shoulders and lift my chin, like that will somehow make the statement truer.
As usual, my ex sees right through me. She laughs softly over the line. “No, you definitely don’t have everything under control. How many nannies have quit on you in the past two weeks?”
Three. Three nannies have walked off the job over the course of a fourteen-day period.
It makes no sense. Cameron’s a great kid. I’m not being a biased parent when I say that. He’s smart and funny and he has the biggest heart.
Clearly, I’m the problem, because I keep hiring the flakiest nannies in all of the Midwest.
But I don’t dare tell Cynthia that. I don’t want to give her yet another thing to stress over right now.
She and I didn’t always see eye to eye when we were married, and we certainly don’t now. But we get along well enough, and we’re pretty great at this co-parenting thing. That’s the only reason she was even open to this trial run of Cameron moving to Fairy Bush with me.
After the divorce, life in Chicago became downright overwhelming for all of us. But it was particularly hard on Cameron. It started reflecting in my son’s grades, and in his overall personality. I’m hoping desperately that my boy will benefit from the slower pace of this small town where I grew up.
This change has been a big sacrifice for all of us, and the transition has been anything but smooth. But Cameron and Cynthia need me to step up to the plate. I’m doing the best I can. I’m just worried that it won’t be enough.
The distinct rattle of an engine catches my attention, distracting me from the conversation at hand. The noise grows louder and louder, until it sounds like it’s just outside the house.
I peek through the blinds again in time to catch a tall, athletic woman climbing off her moped, tucking a helmet under her arm, and strutting up the driveway. All in her skin tight, ripped jeans.
Ugh. Her.
She just showed up and I’m annoyed already.
I’d been hoping Jules wouldn’t be at tonight’s party. I don’t like her. At all.
She’s bossy, loud, unpredictable.
And, fine—she’s a fucking wet dream.
With her shiny black bob, her leather biker boots, and that tough girl vibe, there’s just…something about her.
I reach down to adjust the suddenly-tight crotch of my dress pants, irked by the instant hard-on this woman caused me. Irked by the fact that I can’t take my eyes off of her perky ass. Irked that I can’t look away until she enters Easton’s front door and disappears inside the house.
Ever since coming back to Fairy Bush, I’ve been doing my best to steer clear of her.
Unfortunately, I have a suspicion I’ll be seeing a lot more of Jules in the future.
She’s my brand new sister-in-law’s best friend.
She and Alba have been two peas in a pod since high school.
Somehow, the years since graduation haven’t put a dent in their connection.
Like it or not, crossing paths with Jules on a regular basis may well be outside of my control as long as I’m in this town.
It bothers me to no end.
I turn my back on the window and return my attention to my conversation with Cynthia. “Look, just take care of yourself, okay? That’s what you need to focus on right now. Take the time you need to focus on you, so you can be the mom our son needs. You both deserve it.”
Despite our differences, I’m eternally grateful to my ex-wife for her patience and support in those early years when I worked eighty-hour weeks to get my bachelor’s degree in sports management and get a law degree I’ve never even used all while building up my sports agency.
When we met, I was nothing but a kid from the wrong side of the tracks, but Cynthia stood by me as I chased all of my big dreams. I feel like I owe her for everything she did for me and for our son.
So, now it’s time for me to step in for Cynthia while she recovers from the burnout caused by her demanding, corporate job.
After years of incinerating the candle at both ends—being a career woman in a competitive field and carrying the bulk of the responsibilities of taking care of a home, her body and mind are paying the price.
I won’t pretend to understand what she’s going through.
But I know Cynthia—if she’s turning to me for help, she must really need it, and I’m willing to offer all the support I can.
It’s only fair that I help her in her time of need, regardless of the fact that we’re divorced.
She lets out a tired sigh. “You’re right, Lincoln. Thank you. Seriously. Thank you for being so understanding.”
“Are you kidding me? Cynthia, you took care of everything while I was trying to get my agency off the ground. Now, I can finally say that I’m financially stable, and I’m glad to return the favor. Even if we aren’t married anymore.”
I hear the smile in her voice when she speaks again. “You’re a good man, Lincoln Raines. You’re gonna sweep some lucky lady off her feet one day.”
I snort, unable to resist the opportunity to poke some fun at Cynthia. “Psht. Really? My ex-wife says I’m not all that.”
Cynthia chokes out a laugh. “Oh, shut up.”
I’m in no rush to sweep anyone off their feet again. And there’s no way I’d ever remarry. At this point in my life, any kind of romantic relationship would just be a distraction.
It would be nice to get my rocks off, though. Damn—it’s been two years already.
My ex’s yawn comes barreling over the line, reminding me that it’s getting late. “Give our son a kiss for me.”
“Of course I will,” I promise her.
We say our goodbyes and hang up. I sink to the edge of Easton’s desk, contemplating all these new responsibilities that I’ve taken on.
Shit. Can I really handle this? Do I even know what I’m doing? Am I smart enough to figure it out? Or will I just end up letting everyone down?
The weight of it all threatens to overwhelm me. But Cameron is depending on me. Being his dad is the most important job I’ve ever done, and for my little boy, I’ll do anything.
I take a few deep breaths to ease the heaviness on my chest. Then, I straighten my tie, smooth a hand down the front of my shirt and pocket my phone before stepping back out into the party.
I duck and weave around the yard, catching pieces of conversations and watching people throwing back drinks and chowing down on food. Since when are there this many people in Fairy Bush?
It seems like all five thousand residents of our middle-of-nowhere hometown are in attendance tonight.
Easton is basically a local celebrity and Alba is our hometown sweetheart.
The happy couple didn’t even have to send out invitations.
Yet they have the whole town flocking to their housewarming party.
Me? I haven’t been looking forward to this evening. The whole thing is too overstimulating for my tastes.
Early-2000s pop music rattles the air. There’s a bunch of kids running around the yard, their laughter and shrieks reaching unholy volumes. I spot a few of Easton’s teammates from the Sin Valley Saints. They’re surrounded by women. Lots of women.
How did these groupies even find themselves all the way out here in Fairy Bush? GPS tracking and RFID chips? Astrocartography? Divination and scriptural prophecy?
Someone needs to do in-depth research into the technology that puck bunnies use for sniffing out hockey players. I think it would make an interesting documentary.
I see Easton and Alba, cuddled up on a lounger by the pool, engaged in a boisterous conversation with Ronan Brighton and his wife, Nicky, as well as two other couples I don’t recognize.
When my brother catches sight of me, he tries to wave me over to join them.
But I quickly duck my head, pretending not to see him.
I’m not in the mood to be the ninth wheel while those sickeningly happy twosomes go on and on about their perfect relationships.
The smell of hamburgers catches my attention and I let my nose lead the way. My other brother, Rocco, is over by the grill. He’s doing the most, trying to impress a group of women with his burger-flipping skills.
His performance goes to shit when the half-cooked beef patty soars off the end of his spatula. Somehow, it lands in the cleavage of a busty brunette. She shrieks in horror.
I watch as her arm rears back and she splashes her colorful drink in his face. Then she starts berating him for ruining her favorite dress.
Blinking and dragging a palm down his dripping face, Rocco’s eyes catch mine. He sends a Help me! expression my way.
Nope. No, no, no. Too much drama for me.
Rocco has always been the biggest attention-seeker among my three brothers, and he definitely loves the ladies. So it’s not unusual for him to land himself in sticky situations like this.
I change directions again.
Across the yard, I spot my youngest brother, Oliver. He’s at the makeshift bar, shoulder to shoulder with his not-so-secret crush, Chloe. Looks like she’s teaching him how to mix some sort of colorful cocktail.
She’s laughing and chatting animatedly as she works. Meanwhile my brother is frowning hard, like he’s being forced at gunpoint to be here tonight. The two of them are grumpy and sunshine in action.
But when their hands touch, my brother fumbles the martini shaker like a clumsy fool and spills the alcohol all over his clothes.