Chapter 22 #2
Cleo giggles and instantly covers her mouth. I pretend I don’t notice.
I’m serious about the prep, though. My folks are so used to having Kit around that she has her own toothbrush and everything else she needs at their place. Even if she forgets a few essentials, they’ll probably have it.
Still, it’s important to keep up appearances, to make sure she’s being responsible.
“I’ll take care of the dishes. Why don’t you guys double-check everything?” Cleo says, heading for the sink.
“Sure, thanks,” I say.
She shrugs nonchalantly.
Kit glances between us slowly. Another thing I won’t acknowledge.
I refuse to let anything show on my face as I grab her bag from the hall and bring it down to the car, unzipping it for a quick check. When she isn’t looking, I pull the forbidden Alaskan tragedy book out and replace it with a dog-eared copy of Inky Visits Baja.
An old favorite we both love because who doesn’t enjoy a globe-trekking penguin pen pal? Only, the Baja part jabs me now.
One more dream of Clee invading our little world.
When I get back inside after loading her stuff, Kit’s hugging her.
“I hope you’ll miss me,” she says.
“Obviously.” She boops Kit on the nose. “I’ll make your dad send some pics of the egg once everything’s settled.”
My daughter’s face lights up, and fuck, I’m so sick of pretending.
Like my heart doesn’t die at the sight of this.
This is for the best, you sappy idiot. The best medicine always hurts going down.
“I don’t like leaving you in the house alone,” I tell Cleo as Kit runs down to the car.
“Nothing’s going to happen. You’ll be gone for, what?
Like half an hour?” Cleo’s face shuts down again as she faces me, arms folded.
“Don’t fret so much. I’m not Margot. I promise you lightning won’t strike twice.
This house isn’t out in the sticks and we haven’t pissed off any creepy farmers or psychos with an ax to grind. ”
She rips the words right out of my mouth, so confidently I almost laugh.
“Keep the doors and windows shut. If anything happens, you call me. And the cops. Call both ASAP.”
“I know, I know. I’ll live.” She nods briskly. “Go get your daughter settled. In the meantime, I won’t go out for a jog and get kidnapped by any evil Russians.”
“Better not,” I clip. “Don’t have time to save your disobedient ass before the meeting in New York.”
The corner of her mouth tilts slightly—a slip she chases back.
“Take your time. Don’t rush.” She leans in like she’s about to go in for a kiss, or even just a hug, then freezes.
We both do.
I can smell her apple blossom aura. More caustic to my lungs than breathing inside a volcano.
Acid on my soul, an instant memory of how incredible it felt to take apart this forbidden fruit with my teeth.
For a second, she throws me a startled look, her eyes dark and lips parted.
We share the same thought. She’s just as deprived.
I’m not sure who stumbles back first.
“Bye,” she says, right before she slams the door in my face.
I stay planted where I am for one more second, taking time to compose myself before heading down to where Kit waits.
I know I’m being paranoid, but I hate leaving Cleo alone in the house, even if she won’t have her cousin’s bad luck.
Nothing’s happened since she moved in. The mercs who broke into the Blackthorn estate either fucked off or decided it’s too risky to try again, if they have any clue where we fled.
Logically, I know she’ll be fine.
I’m only a few minutes away. I won’t be gone long.
That doesn’t mean I have to like it.
Kit leans over my shoulder as I strap myself into the driver’s seat. “You should’ve brought her along to say hello to Gramps and Grammy.”
“And why would I do that?”
“Because. They’d love to meet her.”
“No point in them meeting her, Kit,” I lie, backing onto the road. Best we get this over with. “Don’t think she’ll even be back here after New York. She’ll want to get home. You know that.”
I hate that I sound so harsh.
But fuck, no fantasies. This has to be over.
“But she likes us!” Kit chirps. As if that should be enough.
“Of course she does.” Of course she likes you. “But that doesn’t mean she can pause her life to hang out with us. That’s not how it works.”
Kit sighs sadly. “It could, though, if you’d just let it…”
I hold in a sigh of my own, counting my blessings that my parents aren’t far.
“Kit,” I say gently. “When you’re grown, things get weird. Cleo has a life and so do we. I know you’ll miss her, but it’s better if she gets back to living, right?”
“Well, yeah.” She pouts. “But why can’t she live a little more of it with us?”
“She doesn’t want to,” I mutter.
“You’re wrong. I think she does. You just won’t let her.”
I go quiet for a minute.
I have to try not to let my frustration flare.
“It’s just not possible. Don’t know how to explain it more than that. It was nice having her around, but it was work. One last job for Mr. Blackthorn and his granddaughter. End of story.”
“Ooo-kay. If you say so.” Kit snorts, thoroughly disgusted.
That makes two of us.
To my relief, I turn down my parents’ road. Kit abandons her interrogation to gush over a dog we pass, thank God.
As I pull up outside the house, the blinds in the window swish. Dad’s already moving, opening the door before we head up to them. Mom leans heavily on her cane behind him.
My gut clenches.
I hate burdening them all the time when my mother’s mobility gets shakier by the month, but I don’t have a choice right now.
I have to jettison that jeweled horror.
If I want to bring us home, if I want to be the dad Kit deserves again, I have to get rid of it.
“Hey, Kit-Kat.” Mom holds out her arms and Kit runs to her, falling into a bear hug.
Even at her age, she knows better than to grip too hard.
My stomach twists again.
“Thanks for taking her,” I say, leaning in and kissing Mom on the cheek. “I appreciate it.”
“Don’t be silly, Holden! We’d be bored to death without our favorite granddaughter.”
“Your only granddaughter,” Kit says with a laugh.
Mom wraps an arm around her shoulders, and I carry her stuff in from the car.
“Coffee?” Dad asks.
It’s all so routine, no different from how cooking is for me. I just nod and let him get his prized espresso machine going. The iced Americanos have grown on me since he paid through the nose for it.
Mom rolls her eyes as he goes to work.
“Can’t pry him away from that thing,” she says fondly, nodding at Dad with his beans and his tiny weighing scale. “When your father said we needed a new hobby, I didn’t know he meant specialty coffee.”
“Don’t complain, dear. Where would you be without your caramel macchiatos?” he says with a wink. “She loves it, really.”
She sighs affectionately. “I just hate the noise and expense.”
“Won’t be much longer.” The grinder finishes working its way through the beans, and soon he’s packing the coffee grounds in for a perfect press.
“Tell me how everything’s going,” Mom says warmly, ushering me to the small kitchen table and bringing out plates. There’s half a carrot cake leftover she must’ve made earlier.
Another reason Kit doesn’t mind coming here. Mom keeps her stuffed with more sugary goodness than I’d bring home in six months.
“I’m heading to NYC tomorrow. Last ride for the old job, hopefully,” I say.
“Oh my,” Mom says brightly. “Then you’re done with that Blackthorn business? Hard to believe.”
Done, yeah.
The words shouldn’t feel like a brick to the face, but they do.
I clear my throat. Dad walks over with a rich smelling glass of iced coffee and slaps me on the back.
“Kit told me about your guest. It’s nice to see you back in the game, Son,” Dad says with a grin.
“No game. It’s business, and she’s a busy lady.”
“Oh, hush.” Mom wags a finger at me. “A little birdie said it’s like she’s moved in. Now, my old-fashioned side might not approve of it without a ring, but my mom side can’t stand the thought of you staying alone. You can’t be a permanent bachelor, Holdie.”
That old nickname she used when I was a boy always makes me wince.
I shake my head, knowing they’re insufferable. Silence is the best defense. Plus, glaring at Kit, who flashes me a sweet, not-so-innocent smile.
Dammit, she’s going to run laps around me when she’s older.
“Dad has a crush on her,” Kit proclaims loudly. “He basically told me.”
“I did not,” I growl. “Watch yourself, nugget.”
“He did! But he said it’s ‘complicated’ so it’s gonna be a million years before anything cool happens.”
No.
Nothing ‘cool’ is happening this lifetime. If my daughter knew how fucking uncool I’ve been to Cleo Blackthorn lately, she’d know that.
“Good coffee. The specialty beans are worth every penny.” I hold up my iced Americano, saluting my father, desperate to change the subject.
“Yeah, okay, pal. This romance stuff is your mom’s business, not mine,” Dad whispers as he sits at the kitchen table with us.
“We just want to see you happy.” Mom sighs, putting her hand over mine.
I close my eyes, breathing through my nose.
This is the last thing I need right now.
“Kit’s imagination will get her far,” I say, opening my eyes again and hoping that ends it.
“Not far enough, Dad.” She levels a look at me. “You like Clee. Not sure why you can’t just admit it.”
“Kit, enough,” I warn. “We aren’t doing this here.”
“But she likes you too. I know she does.” She pouts. “She looks at you all the time when you’re not paying attention and she pretends she isn’t.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose.
God, if you’re there, give me strength.
My parents trade a heavy glance before Dad springs into action, coffee in his hands. Almost forty years of marriage means they can practically read each other’s minds. His mind hasn’t slipped enough to change that, thankfully.
“I’ve got something for you, Kit-Kat. Let’s go.” He holds his hand out to Kit. “Grammy and I decided we’d redecorate your bedroom.”
“You what? Oh, wow!” Kit practically shrieks.
I bite back a smile.
“A new bookshelf, painted by yours truly. That pretty dark-green color you wanted. Wanna see?”
Kit looks at me, obviously torn.
She’s clever enough to sense that she’s being buffaloed away, but the allure of books is too great. She pushes her kitchen chair back and takes her grandfather’s hand.
“Don’t leave without me, Dad. I wanna say goodbye.”
I nod.
Dad follows more slowly, beaming me a wink for good luck like he knows I’ll need it.
Damn it all.
I heave out a sigh that says I’m so not in the mood for this as I look at Mom. “We don’t have to do this now, you know.”
“But we do, young man.” She leans forward. “It’s been a long time since everything went sideways with Charli, dear. You know that.”
“Doesn’t mean I’m ready to jump into anything unworkable. I’m not looking for a relationship, Mom.”
“You don’t have to. Sometimes they find you when you don’t expect it. By the way, just because this Blackthorn girl follows her passions doesn’t mean she’ll break your heart again. From everything Kit told me, she’s her own woman. I hope you realize—”
“Mom, I know. That’s not the point, we’re not right for each other, I—” I break off, realizing I’m basically admitting we’re together.
We were. Fucking incredible. “We’re not together, Mom.
Even if I was interested—and I’m not—there are too many reasons it would never work.
Cleo and me, we’re night and day. Different seasons of life. ”
“Holden, you choose to be winter,” she says sympathetically. “It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, I know it’s so hard to trust anyone again after what she put you through, and then her health… but Son, you can’t stay trapped in the past. You can’t stay frozen.”
I clench my jaw.
“Charli has nothing to do with this. It’s not like I’m depriving myself because I’m afraid Cleo will run off and leave me hanging.”
“What then?” Mom frowns. “You’re afraid of something. Clearly.”
I sigh, staring at my coffee.
Arthritis and age haven’t dulled my mother; she’s still sharp as a blade. She has this way of making me feel like a confused fourteen-year-old kid again, confronting my first crush and braces all at once.
“We’re two different people. It’s not hard to understand.” I steel my voice. “Not everyone’s compatible. If they figure that out upfront, it saves a lot of grief.”
“Uh-huh. Is that according to you or to her?” She clucks her tongue and shakes her head. “You can’t just make grand declarations with love, Holden. It’s not something you control.”
“Love? Come on. We talked. She told me what she wanted, and I can’t work with it any more than she can meld into our lives.
I have to put Kit first. She needs stability, not any fickle, emotional crap.
Hell, we both do. Cleo’s a young woman. She’s figuring out who she is, finding her future.
She wants to see the world, go to art shows and big retreats.
That’s fine, but it means the writing’s on the wall. ”
Mom cocks her head. “Oh, honey. Do you really like her that much?”
“How many times do I— Mom, it’s not like that.” I shake my head furiously.
“Well, this trip seems like the perfect chance to talk it over. I mean really talk to her. Nothing ever looks perfect on paper, you know. Love thrives on compromise, and for the right one, you’ll find a way.”
“I’ll stay single, and I’ll be happy. There’s nothing to sort out.”
“I’ll let you be the judge of that. But if you ignore your feelings, you’ll regret it. Lord knows you don’t need more of that.”
“Thanks, Mom,” I snarl bitterly.
I inhale roughly, telling myself she’s just being her pushy, loving self.
My folks are old hats at this. They’ve been together so long that ironing out their differences is basically just instinct.
Nothing like a brand-new relationship with a woman who’s farther apart than the Earth and the Moon.
I won’t ask Clee to sacrifice her dreams for me, and I won’t risk Kit’s structure.
What I want shouldn’t be a factor.
Not even if it’s a cinnamon-haired fairy with a white stripe who was named after Egyptian royalty.
Stay strong. No more second-guessing.
If I give in, if I let myself get jerked around, this will just hurt everyone more.
Mom’s right, love damn sure isn’t orderly.
And she’s right about regrets.
Whatever happens, I’m going to regret the hell out of this awkward time of my life, when I met the wrong girl at the right time, and I couldn’t take the gamble.