9. rolling with the punches （even though they hurt）
CHAPTER 9
ROLLING WITH THE PUNCHES (EVEN THOUGH THEY HURT)
LINCOLN
My what, now?
“Sorry,” Ivy rushes out, her eyes wide as she stares apologetically up at me. Not planned, then. “It just slipped out.”
Christ, they only talked for a few minutes.
It’s been incredible to watch Ivy work, weaving magic through the crowd as she caught their attention and then kept it. Slowly, I’ve watched her bloom, shedding the confines of her cocoon and stretching her wings, utterly captivating me at every turn.
Had I been able to take my eyes off Ivy sooner, perhaps we could have avoided this. But it’s too late for that now.
I kiss Ivy’s cheek, slipping my arm around her waist. Ivy isn’t the only one playing her role tonight. Dutiful son, adoring brother. It’s all an act, and one I am an old hand in. What’s one more? “There’s no need to apologize. I was hoping to introduce you.”
Mum’s astute eyes are watching us, her mouth pinched. If I’m not mistaken, I’d say she’s protective of Ivy. “This is either very new or very secret, Lincoln, since you’ve only been back for a few days.”
How did she…? “Did Darcy tell you?”
“Your father and I are capable of speaking with each other.”
Ah. I should have known.
Mum’s eyes dart over my shoulder, and then there’s an arm brushing my sleeve as the person I’ve been avoiding joins us.
“I called the car for you, Mum. It’ll be downstairs in fifteen minutes.”
“Thank you, dear. Would you look who I bumped into.”
I turn to face my brother.
The last time we spoke— he spoke, I yelled— I wondered if I’d finally spent the last of his good will. It’s been years since he saw me as anything other than a problem to be solved, another cog to set in line.
“Lincoln,” he says. “I’m surprised. Darcy mentioned that you’d accepted, but I didn’t quite believe it until now.” His shoulders are set back, claiming the inch of height he has over me. As kids, we’d never noticed the difference. Now Reed takes the high ground whenever we’re in the same room.
“It was a last-minute decision.”
“Your favorite kind,” he says, and I clench my jaw and stuff my fury down.
My brother has always had a clear head for responsibility. No recklessness, no scandals. Nothing like me.
Reed is the dependable one. How could he not be? His name’s Reed Reeves. He’s a fucking superhero.
“Reed, this is Ivy. Lincoln’s girlfriend .” Mum is overly pleased. I know I’ve never introduced anyone to them before, but she’s acting as though I’ve never dated before.
His surprise is there and gone in a blink, only a flicker of his gaze to me, before he presents Ivy with his best welcoming smile. “Lovely to meet you. Have you settled in all right?”
Ivy answers quickly. “Oh, no, I’m a local. But, uh, obviously I’m very happy to have Lincoln within reach now.” And to prove it, she presses herself to me. It’s oddly fortifying.
His eyes meet mine, challenging. “You never mentioned you were seeing someone.”
“Perhaps I wanted to avoid the inevitable speculation,” I say, holding his stare, not interested in backing down.
He frowns.
“Honestly, it’s my fault,” Ivy says. There’s a mole by her ear, half hidden by her hair. I want to reach out, feel the skin under my fingers. Touch it with my lips. Would she shiver? Sigh? Melt deliciously under me the way I want her to? “Lincoln wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to rush anything, especially since we lived so far apart.”
She’s good at this.
“I remember thinking the same thing when I met your father,” Mum graciously offers, smiling approvingly at us both. It punches at a deep need I wasn’t aware of until now.
“It must be in the genes,” Ivy offers, looking up at me with so much naked adoration I want to believe the lie.
Everything else falls away— the crowd, the bullshit— until it’s only us. Two strangers, searching for meaning, caught in the same storm. My heart picks up speed, hammering against my ribs.
It must be the illusion. The evening. Being in front of my family again.
Nothing more.
Tonight was only meant to be a seduction. Pure fantasy. Ivy isn’t meant to see my mess, the cracks in my facade, the grime beneath.
It was never supposed to be about anything real, and yet here she is, defending me to my own brother. And I haven’t even had the pleasure of kissing her.
As Mum pulls Ivy into conversation, I shake the feelings off. Reed has me unsettled, that’s all.
“Where’s Darcy?” I haven’t seen her once tonight, and it’s unlike her to skip an event she planned.
“She’s a little under the weather tonight, so we’re managing it.” My blood runs cold. Darcy being sick is news to me.
“What is it? Is she all right?”
“She’s fine. Nothing to worry about.”
Like hell it is. They said the same thing a decade ago when she was rushed to the emergency room, only deigning to tell me days later that we almost lost her.
I pull my phone out of my pocket, typing rapidly. If it’s bad, Darcy might not be able to respond, but I can’t do anything else right now, and I won’t be able to breathe without knowing she’s okay.
Her response is quick and as acerbic as ever.
Darcy: Don’t get your knickers in a knot. FFS it’s just the flu.
The relief is immeasurable.
Me: You better be resting. That means actual vegetables and water.
Darcy: Sure, doc. Would you also like an update when I hit the loo next?
I roll my eyes. She’s definitely okay.
Darcy: Call me tomorrow during daylight hours. And be nice to Reed.
At this, I lock my phone and pocket it again. Even though she’s the youngest, Darcy’s become the glue holding Reed and me together.
It wasn’t always this way. Growing up, we were thick as thieves. But when the divorce happened, he chose Deacon, and I chose dad, and we’ve never been the same since.
“So,” he says, his voice flat, his eyes coasting over my shoulder, the very picture of unbothered. “You’ve moved.” Reed’s accent is polished and clipped to perfection. It grates against the badly healed wound of our relationship.
Nothing’s changed. We are who we’ve always been. Reed, exemplary and reliable. Lincoln, the perennial fuckup.
“I have.”
Titillating conversation, this is. So glad I traveled over an ocean so we could have this little chinwag.
“Does this mean we’ll be seeing you in the office come Monday?” His disappointment is a wider gulf than any ocean could fill.
“Why the hell would I do that?”
“I’m not sure, Lincoln,” he says, his tone sharp with sarcasm. “Perhaps to help someone other than yourself?”
I ball my free hand into a fist at my side. Unbelievable. “I’m not another employee you can boss around. Just because you dragged Mum and Darcy into it?—”
“Grow up,” he interrupts, low and controlled. “Everything I’ve worked for has been to protect our family, and they understand that. Excuse me for thinking that, as part of that family, you would be willing to do more than swan about, wasting your inheritance.”
“Reed,” Mum warns quietly.
Ivy steps between us, her hand clenched into my jacket, her chin raised, looking seconds away from challenging my brother to a duel in my honor. “If family is really that important to you, you wouldn’t be so quick to insult your own brother.”
Bloody hell, she’s sexy.
The Reed I remember almost had an asthma attack before asking a girl out. He drew comics in the margins of his textbooks and was annoyingly pedantic about the merits of pouring milk first in a cup of tea, like a heathen.
But he’s also the same guy who lectures me regularly about throwing my life away. Who called me when Deacon passed and said not to waste my inheritance because it was “the last handout” I’d ever get. That if I was hard up, the best he could give me was a job. I called him a cunt and hung up on him.
That was five years ago.
“Just tell me what you want me to do,” I sigh.
“What I want…” he says, then deflates, huffing out the anger and returning to his robotic self. “Just show up. If Mum or Darcy ask you for something, you’re there, all right?”
As if I’d ever turn them down.
“All right?” he presses, and if we weren’t in public, I’d have some choice words to throw at him.
“Yes, of course.”
Jesus.
“If that’s all,” I say, maintaining as much calm as I can. “We’ll say good night.”
Reed nods his dismissal, but Mum comes in for a hug, saying, “We’ll see each other soon, I’m sure.”