Bree
When Nancy Rhodes nearly broke down my door this morning, demanding to be let in, I almost snuck out the back. Almost. She seems harmless, but I didn’t want to face her.
I don’t want to face anyone.
Not that it matters. I ended up letting her in anyway. Turns out, that was a mistake. One look at me and she could see—or smell, maybe—how many days it’s been since I’ve left the safety of the giant bed or had anything more to eat than fruit snacks or Fruit Loops or just plain fruit.
Mrs. Rhodes took one sweeping glance at me in all my grieving, self-pitying glory, her gray eyebrows drawing together. “Honey, you need to wash your hair.”
I agreed with her, so I had no rebuttal.
She bustled into the house, closed the door , and nodded toward the primary bedroom. “You shower. I’ll rustle up something to eat. Then we can tackle everything else.”
I didn’t bother responding to Nancy or thinking too long about what everything else might contain.
No words would form as gratitude overwhelmed me.
She stood in the hallway in her floral button-down over navy capris and no-nonsense attitude, like a grandma-coded angel, and I could have wept.
Something about having an adultier adult swoop in and take charge reached inside and healed something within me I hadn’t recognized was broken.
It was a deeply introspective shower, I can tell you that.
I’m not even going to try and unpack the fact that this woman is acting more motherly than my own mom has in years, and they share a name.
Thus far, in the hour since Nancy walked into this house, she’s been puttering around the kitchen and throwing together what smells like a batch of muffins while singing to herself from my first album.
I haven’t spoken to her, but her presence is calming.
She’s everything I would have imagined in a Leave It to Beaver mom—baking, humming, bossy, but in a good way.
If there’s a twinkle in her eye when she hands me a muffin, I’m going to drop everything and ask her to adopt me.
For the first time since running away, I have the urge to turn on my phone and message my family, to let them know I’m doing alright.
That feeling is gone as quickly as it arrived.
“This smells amazing.” I towel-dry the ends of my wet hair while I walk into the kitchen.
“Feel better?”
“A little.” I’m not even lying. Judging from her appraisal, Nancy seems to sense this. I pick up a blueberry muffin from the cooling rack and pinch off a bite. Steam rises from it while I chew. “Why didn’t Colby do anything to this house? It doesn’t really feel like him.”
“It’s a time capsule, isn’t it?” She looks around at the faded oak cabinets and tile floors, her mind tripping back in time somewhere I can’t follow.
The window coverings, furniture, and rugs have all been here for at least two decades.
I wouldn’t be surprised if it was even longer.
“His mother raised him in this house, and he inherited it when she died, but I don’t think renovating is high on his list of priorities. ”
Died. That certainly makes me want to be less flippant about speaking to my mom. I really owe her a phone call, but I can’t face her. I can’t face any of them.
You represent the Belacourt name in everything you do, Bree.
Make us proud in your dealings. You can’t un-burn a bridge, and you never know when you’ll need to cross that river again.
Protect your name—our name. It’s something they can never take away from us without our permission.
Pretty sure my mom paraphrased that last one from Eleanor Roosevelt’s quote, but I get what she meant.
Our family has been centered in the spotlight for as long as I can remember.
As much as we’ve been a source of entertainment, we’ve used our platform as leverage for good, too.
I headed up an entire movement a few years ago to help women’s shelters in New York, and we raised a lot of money for the cause, but that only does so much.
The entire thing felt cheapened when Mom turned it into the Thanksgiving special for our show.
Either way, from the time I could walk, my parents have reminded me of the importance of representing my family well, and I let them down.
Yes, Mom approved the song, but I don’t think she really understood what was going to happen.
She compared it to Bad Blood, like I have a horde of women behind me, when in fact, I’m a lone island.
“Benny mentioned Colby travels for work,” I say weakly, trying to keep the conversation going as I slide into a chair at the kitchen table.
“Colby has been all over the world recently, photographing the most beautiful things. You’ll have to take a look at his portfolio sometime.”
“I get the feeling Colby isn’t my biggest fan.”
Mrs. Rhodes stopped washing the batter bowl and glanced over her shoulder. “Why do you say that?”
“Just vibes, I guess.”
Her eyebrows screw together, lines fanning over her forehead. “He’s protective of his cousin. They’re more like brothers. I can see Colby being wary, but don’t let his grumpiness fool you. He’s a sweet, thoughtful man behind that tough shell. But he’s not the reason I’m here.”
“No,” I agree. “That would be me.”
Nancy’s eyes twinkle, and I want to melt into a puddle on the floor.
Draw up those adoption papers now. I’m getting more motherly care from this woman than I can remember receiving in my entire life.
She puts a banana in front of me and slides over the plate of hot muffins and a bowl of fluffy scrambled eggs, which makes me want to cry.
Yes, people do things for me all day, every day—but they’re all on my payroll.
This is different. This woman and her kind ocean eyes are different, even if she’s giving me a no-nonsense look. “You’ve wallowed, Bree. It’s time to pull up your big girl pants and get to work.”
“I have three more weeks in this house, and I don’t plan on wasting a single day.”
“You don’t need to leave, honey, but pretending your life didn’t explode isn’t going to help mitigate any of the damage. When your break is over, what do you plan to do?”
“Enjoy the career death and live out the rest of my days in angry threats and public hatred.”
Nancy pulls out two glasses and fills them with water, and that’s when I notice my phone on the counter, plugged into a charger.
She follows my attention, and her resolve seems to harden.
“You don’t need to respond to anything, but don’t you think it’s about time you let your family know you’re safe?
They love you, young lady. Even if escaping and pretending you don’t have a care in the world is helping you right now, it’s selfish to ignore the people in your life and leave them to pick up the slack.
Your song made a giant splash, and you’ve left your family to field the fallback, but you’ve also failed to give them any hint that you’re okay. ”
My cheeks burn. She’s right. She’s one hundred percent right.
“I don’t want you to leave, Bree.” Nancy’s voice softens.
“I certainly don’t want you to reveal your location and be forced into retreating to a bodyguard-reinforced gated home or something equally safe—not before we’ve had more time together.
But your family deserves a little peace of mind, don’t you think? ”
“My sisters do,” I concede. “And possibly my brother.”
Him most of all, actually, but I can’t admit that out loud, or I’d have to explain my cowardice in running away in the middle of the night and leaving my precious dog behind.
Nancy’s been so blunt, though. If I can be honest with anyone, it’s probably this formidable woman in her capris and chipped hot pink toenails.
I still can’t believe this is the same woman who was awed by me a few days ago.
“Noah deserves contact,” I say. “You’re right. But once I break that wall and initiate a conversation, I’ll be dragged into everything. I’m just…it’s hard to breathe just thinking about it.”
Nancy reaches across the table and takes my hand.
“I’ll be here. We can do it together, put your phone away again, and then you can go out.
Put on your cute little disguises and head to the beach.
Have you tried the saltwater taffy? It’s good.
Or Benny can take you to his board meeting tonight.
Sierra won’t mind. She’s a darling girl, and being around other people will be a good distraction for you. ”
“I was thinking I’d rather stay in and watch a movie. If you’re up for it, we could have a marathon. I heard you’re a fan of The Birds.”
Nancy chuckles, patting the back of my hand. “Go to the meeting tonight. It’s more fun than it sounds. You don’t want to spend all your time with this old lady.”
Actually, I do. I really, really do. “Will you come, too?”
Her hand retreats, finding comfort in her lap. “I don’t attend those anymore. But Benny would like the company.”
I unwrap the banana and take a bite.
“Should I fetch your phone?”
My heart rate skyrockets. “Not yet.”
“Bree—”
“Yes, I know. You made valid arguments, but I need to be ready to open that door. I need time to process everything you said before I can jump into it.”
She looks disappointed, but I can’t change who I am.
“You’ll feel better.”
“I’m sure you’re right, so let’s make a deal. I’ll go tonight if Benny’s interested in taking me. Then, when I get home and I’m alone and I’ve had the whole day to come to terms with things, then I’ll send a group message to my family. That gives me time to compose something.”
“That’s fair. Will you let me know when you’re finished? We call that accountability, honey.”
Every time she calls me honey, I feel the inordinate drive to make her proud.
A knock on the door gathers both of our attention.
“Well, I wonder who that could be,” Nancy singsongs in a way that means she knows exactly who it is.
“Did you invite Benny over?”
“No, but I thought it was only a matter of time until he showed up.”
I run my fingers through my damp hair while I make my way toward the door.
When I peek through the peephole, I find him rocking back on his heels, hands in his pockets, attention drifting to the window beside the door.
His dark hair is brushed messily to the side, like he’s run his hands through it countless times, and there’s a resigned look on his stupid-handsome face.
Why does he have to look so good all the dang time? Why can’t I have a break from wanting to frame his perfect cheekbones in my hands and gaze into the deep blue oceans that make up his eyes?
“You planning on letting him in?” Nancy asks, making me startle and smack my forehead on the door.
“No,” I say belligerently, as I unlock the deadbolt.
Her smile is sassy and smug.
“Hey.” I paste on a breezy smile when I swing the door open. It falters when Benny’s gaze jumps to my forehead, where a red spot is no doubt forming as we speak.
“What happened?”
“Nothing. Want to come in?”
His eyes narrow over my shoulder. “Grandma.”
“I made blueberry muffins,” she sings, heading back to the dining room. “And eggs.”
We follow her. Benny’s hands are still in his pockets. He’s in tan shorts and a blue T-shirt that’s telling me to Protect the Bay with an open button-down over it. I watch the muscles on his back shift as he walks, because his shirts are tight enough to make them obvious.
It’s pure curiosity that makes me want to run my fingers over his back. Nothing more. Just me wondering how different this would feel from the kid who used to hold me when I was feeling lonely or needed a hug after a long day.
That was a lifetime ago.
“They smell great, Grandma,” he says, snapping me out of the past.
“Have one, Benny.”
He’s obedient, sitting at the table and picking at a hot muffin. Steam curls from the broken bread.
“Bree needs to get out of the house. I told her to run down and try the saltwater taffy in the pink shop.”
“Patrick’s? I can take you.” He puts the rest of his muffin in his mouth. “You coming, Grandma?”
“I need to get home.”
Disappointment falls over Benny’s face, and I don’t know how to take it. Does he think we need a buffer? How loud were my thoughts? Yes, I wanted to run my hands all over him, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to do it.
I have some self-control.
“Give me ten minutes,” I tell him, spooning a bite of eggs into my mouth. “I need to put on a whole new face.”
He cracks a smile. “I kind of like the one you have.”
Why does this bring a blush to my cheeks?
“I’m going to leave,” Nancy says. “Help her process things, Benny. She needs to move forward.”
He gives his grandmother a funny look, but nods.
“And take her to Sierra’s tonight. She could use some regular socialization.”
“When did you become Bree’s advocate?” he asks.
Nancy lifts a single eyebrow.
“I don’t know,” I answer for her. “But I like it.”
This earns me a flash of a smile from both of them before I whip away to find my blonde wig and mauve lip liner.