17. my soft spots （are showing）
CHAPTER 17
MY SOFT SPOTS (ARE SHOWING)
LINCOLN
“I like her,” Darcy says as she corrals me into position, the heavy presence of Deacon’s name at my back, generations of judgment hanging over me like a guillotine.
It’s putting my teeth on edge.
Darcy must catch it through her viewfinder, because she sighs, but nonetheless takes the shot. Her first camera was a garish block of plastic, barely capable of more than a grainy smudge, but somehow, Darce knew how to turn the blurriest of shots into something meaningful.
She could have any job she wanted. Magazines, advertising, broadcasting. They’ve all tried to poach her. She’s certainly been offered enough to tempt even the most discerning person away from the family business. But if there’s one thing we Reeveses have in common, it’s our stubborn streak.
What Reed has done to earn her loyalty when he’s been so quick to dismiss me, I’ll never know.
She’s assessing the results as she says, “You could have told me, you know. I would have been happy for you.”
“I know.”
She looks up at me, her brow furrowed with a tenderness that makes her look ten years younger. “You and Reed, always with your secrets.” She shakes her head. “Our family needs a new trade.”
“As though you don’t keep things to yourself. When were you going to mention being sick?”
“It was nothing, a simple cold. And I didn’t mention specifically because I know how you get.”
She’s right. She’s impossible, but she’s right. God, I love her.
“You need to tell me next time, Darcy. I mean it. I don’t care what it is. An earache, a sprained ankle, anything. I can’t help if I don’t know.”
I can’t be in the dark again. Not after last time.
“I promise to tell you if it’s serious,” she says. That’s probably the best I can hope for. “And you better promise not to propose without warning me first. I need time to plan.”
I pull her into a hug. Darcy still fits under my arm, still prefers shampoo that smells like Fruit Roll-Ups, and still clears her throat obnoxiously loudly when she’s trying to be conspicuous.
It killed me to be on the other side of the ocean when we almost lost her. Darcy might be able to wave off a burst appendix, but I will never forget the bone-chilling terror of almost losing her and being an ocean away. Every painstaking second waiting for updates from Reed as she went through surgery. The fucking gall he had to tell me to focus on exams while our sister lay cut open on some operating table. As if Uni mattered more than her life.
But she’s here and she’s healthy, and that’s all I care about.
If I cling to her a little too much, she doesn’t mention it.
“You’re still satisfied with all this?” I ask. “No regret about turning down the Vox job?”
Darcy nods against my chest. “There are more important things than money,” she says, repeating something I’ve said too many times to count. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”
I should let it be, even if I don’t understand it.
Eventually, Darcy steps back, raising the camera again and ignoring my eye roll as she prods me to stand beside an assembly line. It smells of glue and throws me back about two decades.
“Ivy isn’t like the others,” she says, mid-shot. It isn’t a question, and I’m not surprised that she can see through me.
“I’m out of my depth,” I admit, rubbing the back of my neck.
She stops and looks up. “Of course you are, but you haven’t messed it up yet. She wouldn’t be here otherwise.”
Christ, I hope so. “I want to do this right. Ivy deserves that.”
“So do you,” Darcy says, firmly. “As long as you don’t go overboard, it’ll be fine.”
As though it’s a crime to want to take care of someone. To spoil them. Well, if it is, I’m surely fucked. “When have I ever gone overboard?”
She raises a single brow, and okay, fair point.
“You’ll get wrinkles if you keep frowning like that,” she teases. “Besides, you’ve always been good at winging it.”
“Some would call that a character flaw,” I say, following her past a row of stations where filament is being hand sorted. We both know who that someone would be.
Darcy bumps our shoulders together. “Don’t start.”
It’s been decades since I was last here. It’s remained the same, while I am leagues from who I used to be. Now I feel stretched thin, torn between two separate worlds. Never knowing where I fit.
I’ve never regretted choosing Dad. It was the right decision, even though I hated not being able to watch over Darcy. I couldn’t have it both ways, but it’s never stopped me from wanting it.
“How is he?”
Darcy’s my only hope of getting the true answer, but it seems she’s done playing middle woman. “Now that you’re here, you could ask him yourself. You have to learn to talk to each other eventually.”
“Debatable,” I say.
I follow her around, allow her to position me as she wants, take her photos. People recognize and thank her as we go, treating her more like a friend than their employee. Things have certainly changed a lot since Deacon’s time.
“Do you think we’ll ever escape him?”
She doesn’t answer right away, looking out at the factory floor from the mezzanine we’re on. There are as many people as machines, laughter echoing above the din. From the look of it, it’s a great working environment. Full of life. It’s a long shot from the drudgery I remember as a child.
Darcy sets her camera down, her expression fond as a loud cheer goes up in the corner. “Of course. It’s up to us who we choose to be and how we impact the world. Deacon was all about himself. Reed cares about community, which is why he made sure every employee has equal share of the company. Including us.”
“What?” This is the first I’m hearing it.
She turns to face me, crossing her arms. I feel a lecture coming on. “You heard me. Reed might have the title, but every single one of these people has a stake. He’s changed things, Linc. It’s not like it was when Deacon ran it. He’s dialed back expansion and kept things local. Increased benefits, increased flexibility. We all look after each other, and we all succeed.”
“Why would he do that?” It doesn’t make sense. When he cut the rest of the family out of the estate, it seemed like Reed was on track to be the perfect successor to Deacon, putting profits above all. But sharing ownership with the company flies in the face of that.
But why?
“You should ask him,” Darcy retorts.
My grandfather was a lot of things, not all of them good, in my opinion. If anything, I’m proud that Reed has become a better man than he was.
She reaches out, placing her hand on my arm. “He’s missed you. We all have. He’s just shithouse at showing it, which is why it has to be you who goes first. I promise you, if you can let your guard down, he will listen.”
Unlikely.
“Are we done here?” I ask when I see Darcy lowering her camera away finally. I’m itching to get back.
“Why? Are you worried about what Mum is telling Ivy, or what Ivy is telling Mum?”
Christ. “Both now, and thank you for that.”
So much for whisking Ivy away on a romantic date.