Chapter 10
Cole
As I settled at the table in the conference room, I took in the space, marveling at how nice it looked these days.
Chloe and her team had really turned things around at Hebert Timber.
The majority of my dad’s absurd art and furniture was gone, making the office feel like a place where people could actually work.
It was strange for me to be summoned to HQ, but a family meeting had been requested. While my brothers probably wouldn’t notice or care if I didn’t show up, I felt obligated to be here.
I sat back, adjusting in my chair, looking for a comfortable position for my aching body.
I was sore and still exhausted from my wild Vegas weekend, a long flight home, and a sleepless night.
I hadn’t expected to see Willa up so early this morning, but it was nice to have the company.
I’d led her through my mobility circuit, then I’d made a peanut butter mocha protein shake for her using my secret recipe.
She’d seemed to like it, which filled me with more pride than I should probably admit.
Teaching her and then feeding her gave me a sense of purpose I hadn’t felt since planning RiverFest.
Like me, she had tight hips, so we laughed our way through crow pose together.
On the drive over here, my mind was flooded with workout ideas.
It had been so long since I’d had a fitness partner, and she seemed eager to learn.
The view of her in those shorts didn’t hurt either.
But I had worked hard to keep my eyes off her body.
She was serious, kind, and generous. I couldn’t insult her by ogling her like a piece of meat. She was a hell of a lot more than that. But I was a man, and she was gorgeous, so it wouldn’t be easy.
“Thanks for coming.” Chloe slid into a chair at the head of the table, patting her baby bump and smiling.
I was still wrapping my mind around that bump. Around a lot of things when it came to Gus, really. The revelation that he had been married decades ago and had never told any of us was a big one. Even bigger was that the two of them were together again and they were having a baby.
He seemed happy. Though it wasn’t always easy to tell, since he pretty much scowled all the time, there was a softness in his eyes when he looked at Chloe.
Finn and Adele arrived next, with baby Thor in his bucket seat, and then Jude strode in.
Karl, Chloe’s assistant, set up a laptop and projection screen, then distributed small notebooks and pens. Already, this was far more official than the meetings we’d had in Adele’s sunroom, where half of us had to sit on the floor.
A woman I vaguely recognized from the gym came in next. A friend of Adele’s, if I wasn’t mistaken. She wore jeans and a black blazer and had an air of authority about her. Military posture, slicked-back ponytail, and a blindingly large rock on her finger.
“This is Parker Gagnon,” Gus said.
Karl adjusted the projector, and suddenly, Owen and Lila were on the screen with the view from his office in Boston’s Seaport district behind them.
“Glad you could join us,” Gus continued. “Parker is a private investigator and former state police officer.”
She gave him a head nod.
“We’ve hired her to help us pursue answers,” he explained.
She raised a hand and waved to Owen and Lila. “Thanks, everyone. I asked Gus and Chloe if I could meet with the whole family so I don’t have to repeat any of this information.”
Ah. It was coming back to me now. I’d heard about her at knitting group. She’d married Pascal Gagnon, and they had a baby. Something like that. Jodie talked incessantly about every baby in town. The only kids I spent time with belonged to Finn, so when it came to others, I often tuned out.
“Two years ago, I was hired by the Gagnons for the same reason, and the work we did resulted in your father’s arrest.”
What she didn’t mention was how that investigation also resulted in her being kidnapped and held at gunpoint by my father.
That was a particular family shame we would probably never recover from.
I had still been playing at that point and was pretty far removed from it all, but just the thought of my father doing such despicable things made me nauseous.
Sometimes I found myself wondering how he could be capable of the things he’d been accused of. But then memories I’d worked to repress would creep back in, and it wasn’t as hard to believe.
His cruelty toward my mother and me.
Or the long car rides home from hockey games, when he’d spend hours yelling at me, belittling me, and reviewing every play I’d made. He’d accuse me of not trying hard enough and remind me that I was destined to be a loser.
The phrases would play in my mind as clearly as they did when he repeated them.
You’ll be pumping gas someday.
Idiots like you can only shoot a puck for a living.
I didn’t marry your mother for her brains, and I’m paying the price with you.
And once in a while, it got physical. Mostly, he’d shove me into walls or force me to shoot five hundred pucks in the driveway before I was allowed to go to bed.
When those memories surfaced, I swore it was as if I was standing outside with the cold winter air burning my cheeks as I took slap shot after slap shot, trying not to look at the buckets of pucks I still had to get through.
If the abuse had been solely directed at me, I’d have been okay with it. But he’d been terrible to my mother as well—blaming her for everything, yelling at her for making the smallest mistakes.
And if she made a bigger mistake, like the time she dented her new Mercedes?
He escalated to physical abuse. That time, he had grabbed her by the hair—her long black hair was her pride and joy—and cut off a big chunk.
I remember watching her sit there as he came at her with the scissors, shaking and knowing that I should intervene, that I should fight for her, but being unable to move.
As the memories assaulted me, heat crept through me, and a tingling sensation started in my fingers. Trying to suck in air, I scanned the room. My brothers were all paying careful attention to what Parker was saying, but I couldn’t even hear her voice over the rushing sound in my ears.
“Excuse me,” I croaked as my lungs tightened further, making it almost impossible to breathe.
I stood abruptly and strode to the door.
I needed to get out of this room. It was too hot, and there wasn’t enough air.
With each step I took, my legs came closer to buckling.
Finally, I made it into the hallway, but I didn’t stop there.
Still gasping for breath, I headed straight for the stairs.
“You okay?” Karl, who’d been walking toward the conference room with a tablet in hand, asked.
Without responding, I slammed into the stairwell door. When the cooler air hit me, I collapsed on the metal stairs and gripped the handrail as I put my head between my knees and forced oxygen into my lungs.
Fuck. My hands shook as I extended my fingers to get my blood flowing again. My jaw ached, and my head felt foggy.
“Here.”
The voice came from far away, but the bottle of water in my periphery was very close.
“Drink.”
Karl sat next to me, adjusting the cuffs of his perfectly pressed plaid dress shirt.
“You’re not okay.”
I waved him off and took a small sip. I wasn’t even sure I could swallow. My tongue felt too big for my mouth. The cool water soothed me, instantly slipping down my throat. Fuck. I closed my eyes and took another sip.
“Now breathe,” he said.
We sat side by side in silence for several minutes. Fortunately, he didn’t ask any questions. If he had, I wouldn’t have been able to explain my weird behavior. I wasn’t even sure what was going on.
After a few minutes, I pulled a deep breath in and held it. Then, as I let it out, I stood.
“I better go back,” I said without looking at him. “Thanks.”
He stood too and held the door open for me. “Cole?”
“Yeah?” I glanced at his face but looked away at the pity etched in every line.
“It’s okay not to be okay. Please remember that.”
I wasn’t sure what he meant, but I gave him a head nod, then shuffled back to the conference room. I wished more than anything I could slip in and take my seat unnoticed, but someone my size didn’t have the luxury of sneaking anywhere.
When I returned, they were discussing the fire that had been set in the machine shop. The police had arrested a guy and charged him with arson, but by the way Parker was talking, there was more to this story.
“My contact at the FBI tells me he gave a full confession,” she said. “The guy swears he acted alone and was so strung out he doesn’t have any specific memories.”
“I don’t buy it,” Chloe said. “It’s all connected. The guys who approached me and this guy. I saw the photos. That tattoo.”
“Lots of timber people have tattoos,” Finn said.
Chloe shook her head. “Nah, this was different, and I’ve seen it before. It was some kind of tree or shrub.”
“I’ll pull the photos,” Parker said. “We can take a look, and I’ll ask around.”
“Are the FBI cooperating?” Owen asked on screen.
Parker laughed. “Agent Portnoy is an old friend of mine. You’ve had the pleasure of dealing with him, I’m sure. For that, I’m terribly sorry. But he is good at his job. Sadly, federal interest and funds vary. It can be hard to sustain a multi-year investigation of this nature.”
“But you’ll give him a swift kick in the ass, right?” Adele asked.
“Yes. I think it’s safe to say my involvement will motivate him.” Parker rubbed her hands together. “Owen and Lila have already handed over financial records, and Chloe has given me full access to employee records and contracts. So now my plan is to dig in, start with the paper.”