17. Hurricane Fenway
HURRICANE FENWAY
JUNIE
There’s a particular brand of chaos that only Fenway Jones can generate.
He arrives in a space and immediately reorganizes the social architecture of it the way a hurricane reorganizes a coastline. Not maliciously. Not even consciously. Just…inevitably.
It’s how he’s always been.
He operates under the impression that people are inherently good, and those who aren’t? Well, that’s where he shines. It’s why he’s so good at what he does. He has the innate ability to read people. To know their next move before it’s even crystallized in their mind.
There’s a reason every professional sports player in Boston is on his roster. It’s why Hollywood elite fly to Boston to work with him.
He’s just that good.
It’s also why he’s taking Grace’s antics so personally.
As my friend, he’d taken her under his wing more than once. Her betrayal didn’t just rock me—it set him off on a personal vendetta, and there’s no one I’d rather have on my side.
Within four minutes of stepping onto Cole’s property, Fen has ingratiated himself with Dollie, given Stanley ring light advice, determined that Katie needs a signature cocktail named after her, and is currently making a case to Nana Mae for why the S&S group needs its own podcast.
Even Marley’s taking notes.
I’m standing on the porch, tucked behind a pillar, watching it all happen. I’ve spent my life being reorganized by Fenway Jones and have made peace with it.
Then Nolan catches me hiding.
I don’t know why it catches me off guard every time I see him. He’s my brother, for crying out loud. But I’ve only seen him in person twice in the last two years, which is not enough, even if neither of us has said so.
He looks so much like our father—a man I only think of in nightmares now, but Nolan remembers him all too well and has done everything possible to be better than the sperm donor who gave us life.
“Hey, Junie.” There’s a comfort in his tone that can only come from a sibling who’s been through hell and back with you.
I step away from my hiding spot and fall into his embrace. He holds on longer than he would if things were fine.
“You look terrible,” I mumble into his shoulder.
“You look like you haven’t slept.”
“Your flattery skills need work.”
“I call it like it is.” He pulls back to scan me. Not the way Fen does with the excitement of seeing an old friend, but a quieter, more reserved way.
His shoulders drop, but the concern is etched in his expression like a brand. “Where is he?”
Guilt slams into me. It makes no sense. I haven’t done anything wrong. But I guess that’s what happens when you hide being in love with your brother’s best friend your entire life.
“Clubhouse.” I nod toward the welcome parade. “Marley filed a formal complaint about the festival parking that required in-person arbitration.”
A small smirk tilts my brother’s lips upward.
“Stanley was the witness.”
“God help everyone.” He chuckles.
Fen pushes Nolan out of the way and opens his arms. “Spite-Berry.”
“Don’t,” I say. But it’s too late. Fen already has his arms around me, lifting me into the air and spinning us in a circle.
This has been our greeting for over a decade. I warn him off, and he hugs me anyway while I pretend to be annoyed but am quietly grateful for the affection he gives so freely.
It’s a better system than the one Hudson and I have. We communicate best with grunts and eye rolls.
“Come on,” Nolan says. “Show me your apartment so we can talk.”
Fenway sets me back on my feet. “I’ll go grab Cole.”
Emotion flickers in my brother’s eye, but he nods, then waits for me to lead the way.
“How is it?” he asks on the stairs. “Being here. With Cole?”
“Fine.” Apparently around my brother, I revert to the sulky teenager he had to bribe to leave the house on the weekends.
I open the door and wait for Nolan to enter before shutting it.
We should’ve stayed outside where there’s more air—and busybodies.
He drops heavily onto my tiny sofa. “You know, Cole used to tell you that fine wasn’t a descriptor for your feelings.”
He’s wearing a curious expression on his face. I don’t like it at all.
“How do you know that?”
His sigh seems to weigh a thousand pounds. “I’m your big brother. And seeing you here now, I know your feelings for Cole aren’t as cut-and-dry as you’ve made them out to be.”
My heart is racing too fast. How the fuck can he tell that by seeing me for five freaking minutes?
“I’m not the same little girl with a stupid crush anymore, Nolan.”
His expression softens. “You may believe that, Junebug. But no one else does.”
“I don’t want to talk about Cole.”
“You never did.”
“Because there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Keep lying to yourself, little sister. At one point, he was the most important person in your life. How is it now, being here?”
“Why? Why are you asking this now when you all but had me dragged here? You didn’t care how I felt about it then.”
“I’ve always cared. Jesus, Junie.” He wipes his palms on his thighs.
I haven’t seen him do it since he was in med school.
“I don’t want to fight with you. I just want you to know that I understand that Cole was just as important to you as he was to me.
And I understand that being here when it wasn’t your choice might be hard, but I also get you.
And when your dream plan went up in flames, you would’ve self-destructed if you didn’t get the hell out of Boston.
That made here, with Cole, the best place for you.
Regardless of what his actions may say, he cares about you and always has. ”
I frown at my brother.
What does he know that I don’t?
“How are you doing?” God, when did my brother turn into such a gossipy old lady? “And don’t you dare tell me you’re fine. Grace and numb-nuts hurt you, and you never let people in.”
“That’s not true. I’ve already replaced her. I hardly even think about her anymore.”
“Junie.”
“Fine, I only think about shipping them a broken container of fire ants 600 times a day. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Closer. I’m sorry they did this to you. I’m sorry that you were hurt by their actions.”
I shrug and stare out my window. “It doesn’t matter anymore. Fen has a plan. She’s overplaying her hand and documenting it. When she goes far enough, we’ll have everything we need. I just have to get through the fire and wait for the smoke to clear.”
“And you’re not engaging?”
“I’m not engaging.”
He’s quiet again. A minute passes.
“You know.” There’s that tone of his again. The one that warns me to be ready to run. “If you ever—I just mean—have you met Bea?”
I scowl at him. “You can’t live here and not have a personal relationship with everyone.”
He chuckles. “True. Well, her front porch is a great place to land. You know, if you ever need…anything. Especially Wednesdays at three.”
“Her…porch?”
“Trust me. Now, what’s going on with Cole?”
My heart rate sprints toward a finish line I can’t see. “N-nothing. Why would you ask that?”
Nolan’s brows raise as a million questions flicker across his gaze. I’m exposed in a way your brother shouldn’t see you. What would he say if he knew Cole and I kissed?
“I mean, what’s going on with The Haven? Is he in some kind of trouble?”
Relief makes me look guiltier even as I try to keep my spine straight.
“It’s getting there. It’s nothing I can’t handle. Cole understands the scope of the issue and is trusting me to help him.”
Another nod. Another minute.
I’ve been Nolan Mercer’s sister for twenty-four years. I know exactly what he’s doing.
“Just say it, Nolan.” My palms itch as I stare at him.
“Say what?” He leans back and spreads his arms along the back of my sofa as if he has all the time in the world.
“Whatever you’re skirting around. Whatever’s been on the tip of your tongue since you walked through that door.”
He smiles at me. Warm and full of love. “God help the man who wins your heart, Junebug. He’s going to need it. Whoever he may be.”
My lips turn in, and I gnaw the hell out of the bottom one.
“I think I’m going to be on an apology tour now that I’m home, so might as well start with you,” he says.
Of all the sentences I’ve prepared for, that wasn’t one of them. “What do you mean? What do you have to apologize for?”
“With you? Japan.” He leans forward to rest his forearms on his thighs. “For the timing of it. For leaving when you were—”
“I’m your sister, Nolan, not your child. You did way more for me than you had to.”
“I knew you were still reeling from losing Mom, and…” His gaze catches mine, so many questions he wants to ask. “Cole. I was just so tired of fighting with Dad for a company that was never his and—”
“You don’t owe me anything, Nolan. I was fine. I am fine.”
“I was angry, Junie. I should’ve handled it differently. I was never angry with you.”
“Nolan.” I say it quietly because he’s working himself up into the guilt spiral that’s a Mercer family design flaw in us both, just different configurations of the same kind of hurt. Mine twirls toward spite while his is self-recrimination. “I was fine.”
“Until you weren’t.” His gaze cuts me down with a truth that’s hard to acknowledge.
I nod. “But I know how to pick myself back up now, Noley. I’ll be fine again.”
“Is that what you want?” Something must happen with my face because he smiles. “To be fine?”
I glance around, confused. “Doesn’t everyone?”
The sadness he tries to hide lashes out at me now. “No, Junie. Most people do not aspire to be fine because fine is not—”
“A descriptor for your feelings.” If my eyes roll back any further, I’ll have permanent eye damage.
“You’re in a retirement community in South Carolina,” he says.
I lift my brow as if to say so what? “Hiding from a viral video, and the man you’ve been in love with since you were sixteen is thirty feet away, yet you’ve both been doing an elaborate dance around each other for six weeks now.
I thought by forcing you to coexist that you’d finally get your shit together, but that’s not going to happen if you don’t both grow the hell up. ”
I stopped breathing the moment he said the word love.
“Don’t,” he orders before I can make a sound. “I’m not going to pretend I don’t see it anymore. I’m too old for that.”
The door slams at Cole’s house, dragging my focus to the window.
“He has his reasons…and I have mine.” It’s as close to honest as I can get.
“He’s always been complicated…especially when it concerns you.
” Nolan looks at his hands. “But it’s not only about him.
I just wanted to say that whatever’s happening here, whatever you decide, you don’t have to handle it alone.
That’s what I should’ve said before I left for Japan.
It’s what I should’ve said when Fen showed me Grace’s video.
So I’m saying it now. No matter what happens in this life, I’ll always be there for you, and I think Cole will be too. ”
My throat grows spikes just to attack the uncomfortable feelings growing there.
“Support has never been the issue, Nolan. It’s everything else.”
“Do you still love him?” He’s quiet in a different way now. Protective. Contemplative.
“It’s hard to say.”
“Why’s that?”
“Feelings are messy. History makes it complicated.”
“That’s life, Junie. You either learn to thrive in the mess or you hide it. We grew up hiding the mess. Is that really what you want for your future?”
Shit. Here I was thinking I was ahead of the curve with our generational trauma. Leave it to Doc McSmartypants to call me out on it.
By the time I’m alone in my apartment that night, I’m freaking exhausted but thankful for the peace.
I forgot what it’s like to live with Fen—no one goes to sleep until he’s ready, and spoiler, he’s never ready. Thankfully, Nana Mae scolded him, and he retreated to the guest room so I could slip home.
Silence is a double-edged sword, though. I’m instantly reminded of Nolan’s words that have completely rocked what I thought I knew.
The man you’ve been in love with since you were sixteen is thirty feet away.
That’s what Nolan said. Out loud. Like it wasn’t a grenade. Like he hadn’t been sitting on it for years and just casually handed it to me with the weather report.
I close my eyes and replay my day while massaging my hands with lotion. It’s an automatic motion that takes no mental brainpower, for which I’m thankful, and I take my time applying it to my legs before moving to my arms.
When I’m finished, I rub my hands together to use up the remaining lotion, and the ring slides to my second knuckle.
I freeze.
My pulse doesn’t. My pulse is loud and stupid in my ears.
I stare at my hand in the mirror. The ring sits high on the joint, not hung up as it’s been for weeks. Weeks where I’ve pulled. Tugged. Twisted. Cursed. Begged. They all ended in the same result, which is stuck.
Tonight, with no attempt, no planning, no intention at all, the ring is asking to come off.
I lift my hand to my face, then give an experimental tug.
The fucking thing slides right off just as Nana Mae had said it would.
It’s just the water weight. From the heat…
No struggle. Zero effort. As though it’s been loose for days and I hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice.
I stand here, holding it in my palm, more unsettled than I’ve ever been, staring at the small, cold, circular symbol of love and commitment, and my left hand feels…wrong.
I stare at my bare finger, then back to the ring, then back to my finger again, as though one of them has to volunteer an explanation.
The silence is choking now while I have an internal disagreement with a piece of jewelry.
Just give it back in the morning. We don’t have to have a conversation about it, right? Cole doesn’t really care. Leaving it on his desk will be clean. Efficient. Adult-like, even.
I set the ring on the edge of the sink, turn off the light, and make it exactly four steps before I’m backtracking without allowing my mind to ask a single question.
I simply turn the light back on, slip the ring back on my finger, over my knuckle, and nod. Once. Like the decision was out of my hands.
“It’s easier this way,” I reason to absolutely no one.
Even Cole mentioned this ring keeps Lola away, so really, I’m doing him a giant favor here.
It serves a purpose. It’s temporary. Just for now.
I say it the way I say things I need to believe before I can sleep—the lies we pretend are real to make everything just a little easier.
Just for now.
Not yet.
Fine.
I look at my hand in the mirror one more time, the diamond winking at me in the low light of the vanity with the smugness of something that knows it’s won.
Then I turn off the light before the glimmering, shimmering lie can make me believe anything else.