by Serena Bell
“I can take care of myself,” Hannah said.
“Well, exactly,” Chiara said. “So I saw this job that was absolutely one hundred percent perfect for me, director of finance and planning at Buyathon—”
“Buyathon!” Hannah said reverently. The corporation was one of the U.S.’s ten biggest tech companies, a household name. When Chiara had heard about the job opening from an old business school friend, she’d jumped on it like a late bus.
Levi whistled. “And that’s no slouch of a title, either.”
“Yeah,” Chiara said. “Reports to the CFO. I didn’t say anything at first because I didn’t know what was going to happen, but the first round of interviews went really well, and they told me they’ll be calling me back for a second round.”
There was a deafening silence. Then they all started talking at once. “That’s amazing!” “That’s terrific, Kee!” “Such good news!” “We’re really happy for you!” “It’s definitely your time.” “It’s your turn to get out and do something for yourself!”
She let herself relax a little bit. Of course they were supportive. She should have known it. They were the best family a girl could ask for.
“Dad would be thrilled,” Levi said. “I can practically hear him crowing about your head for numbers. And your Stanford and Wharton credentials not ‘going to waste.’” He made air quotes.
She’d been thinking about her dad a lot, ever since the interview process started. Speaking of bittersweet. On one hand, interviewing for this job had made her father feel more alive to her than he’d been in the decade since they’d lost him. As she’d sold herself to the HR rep and the hiring manager, she’d heard her father telling her, Be bold, and, That’s my girl. She’d felt him watching over her shoulder, approving and instructing.
But she’d also missed him more than she’d missed him in years. Levi was right—he would have been proud. And she wished so, so much that he’d lived to see her going after this job.
Getting this job.
She would get it. For him.
One doubt clouded her excitement. She wasn’t the only Campbell who had put her dreams on hold. Levi had dropped out of med school for the good of their whole family—because he’d had exactly zero choice. And before she could pursue this job, she needed to make sure she wasn’t standing between Levi and the future he’d deferred for them.
“I guess what I wonder is, isn’t it really Levi’s turn?” she asked. “If I go, does it make it harder for Levi—?”
Right after her parents’ deaths, she’d tried to convince Levi to let her drop out of Stanford to help him with Hannah’s upbringing. And he’d told her in no uncertain terms that she was forbidden to sacrifice her education. But it was different now. This wasn’t about dropping out of college. And Levi had waited a long time. If he wanted his turn, Chiara would give it to him in a heartbeat.
“He can’t leave until I graduate,” Hannah said. It was barely more than a whisper. But they all heard her.
“Hannah,” Levi said firmly. “I want to be here. You are not holding me up or keeping me here or anything like that. There will be plenty of time for me to figure out what comes next when we get there.” He turned to Chiara. “And don’t be ridiculous. If you’re making a killer salary and lining up to be Buyathon’s next CFO, it’s going to make things easier for all of us. You know that.”
“But I won’t be here to help you guys—”
“We’ll just make Trey do twice as much work,” Levi said. “He’s still earning his place.”
Trey flipped Levi off, out of Hannah’s line of vision. These days, he was helping Auburn renovate Beachcrest, while also commuting back and forth to keep tabs on his San Francisco tech company. In the short time since he’d been accepted into the family, Chiara had already come to believe he would do everything in his power to help not just Auburn—whom he adored—but all her siblings.
“Oh, Kee, I will miss you so much,” Auburn said. “I can’t believe I’m just back and you might be leaving. But of course this is exactly the right thing! You have to do this, for sure. Go for it!”
Hannah still looked a little shell-shocked.
“It’s only four hours away,” Chiara said. “I’ll be able to come back pretty much any weekend you need me. And if I get the job, I could negotiate for some work-from-home time, too, so I can do longer weekends or even a week here, here and there. And when I’m here I’ll really be here, not working or going to Chamber of Commerce meetings or the reunion committee—”
“Or the food pantry or the affordable housing board,” Auburn added dryly.
“Right,” Chiara said. “And anyway, it was just a first interview, so this is all premature. I just wanted you guys to know it might happen.”
“Of course they’ll hire you.”
Every head at the table turned, because it had been Mason who’d spoken. Mason hardly ever talked, and when he did, it was short and to the point. Unemotional. But he was unflinchingly loyal to the people he loved. Chiara suspected he’d take one of their secrets to the grave, if it were called for.
“And of course you should accept it.”
“Oh, Mason,” Chiara said, tears springing to her eyes.
They were all nodding and smiling, except Mason. Even Hannah was coming around now, looking less worried and more excited.
This was the best response Chiara could possibly have hoped for.
So if that was true, that they’d told her exactly what she’d wanted to hear, why didn’t she feel relieved? And what was that heavy sensation in the middle of her chest?
4
Jax poked his head into Evan’s hospital room the next morning. He’d missed visiting hours the day before, but he’d made sure to be here right on time today. He wished he’d been smart enough to think of buying a couple of comic books from Chiara while he was at the shop—Meeples, what kind of name was that?—but then he hadn’t wanted to go back in. So he’d gone to Tierney Bay Book Shop instead and asked if they had some graphic novels or something else an eighteen-year-old boy would like. He had two graphic novels in a brown bag in one hand and an iTunes gift card in the other.
A lean, shaggy-haired kid with an indoor-white complexion got up from a chair beside Evan’s bed. Jax recognized Asher, the kid who’d outed Evan’s game store plan. He hoped he hadn’t made any trouble for him.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, Jax,” Asher said. “I was just heading out.” He cut Evan a sympathetic look and made for the door before anyone could object.
His brother looked like shit. Not just because he was lying in a hospital bed and no one looked good under white sheets with fluorescent lighting. But also because he had started to grow a beard, and he was, like, nine-tenths of the way to having enough scraggly reddish facial hair to pull it off. But not there yet.
“Hey.”
Evan’s greeting held all the sheepishness and guilt Jax thought he’d wanted to hear, but truth was, he was just so fucking glad his brother was okay. “So what the hell happened, my dude?”
“Lost a little bit of intestine, that’s all,” Evan said.
“You know that’s not all, right?” Jax said. “You know you need to take care of yourself and call the fucking doctor if something hurts or there’s blood or anything, right?”
“Chiara said you promised not to yell at me yet.”
“Oh, my dude, this is not fucking yelling,” Jax said. It took all his self-control to manage a civilized tone. “Wait until you’re up and about, and then you will find out what yelling is all about.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” Evan said dryly.
“Call the fucking doctor next time. Please. For the love of God.”
Evan was quiet. Then he said, “I promise.”
“Thank you.” Jax settled himself into an uncomfortable vinyl chair with wooden arms. “Here. I brought you stuff.” He took the books out of the bag and handed them to Evan. The gift card, too.
Evan thum
bed through the books. “Oh, wow. These look good. Thank you.”
“You don’t have them?”
“I read the first one in this series, but not this one. Never heard of this one. And the gift card’ll be good. I’m sick of all my music already.” He gestured at the nightstand. “Mom sent flowers. This is way better.”
“That’s what Moms do, though. And she’s not the chicken soup type or anything.”
“She wanted to fly up, but I told her not to. She got into some really big curated craft show and she was all excited about some adjustable-waist skirt she was going to sell a million of. And I figure, if she’s making money, that makes your life easier, right?”
There was a puppy dog look on Evan’s face that made Jax’s chest hurt. It was those brown eyes—legacy of Evan’s dad. Evan’s dad had stuck around their mom just about as long as Jax’s own had—a couple of years—before disappearing without a trace. “Don’t you worry about that,” Jax said.
The puppy dog look got worse, not better. “I thought it would help,” his brother said.
“You thought—what would help?”
“The game store. If I could make some money. Instead of just spending it. Like an investment.”
Oh. And ohhh. “That’s why it was a big secret.”
“I was going to surprise you with it.”
It clobbered him, how much people could screw things up while trying to get them right. Human beings were such a beautiful mess. And how the hell did you tell a puppy dog that chewing up your shoe wasn’t the best way to show love?
“The whole point of college,” Jax said carefully, “is that it was supposed to be an investment in you.”
“But it wasn’t what I wanted to do,” Evan said. “I told you that, and you wouldn’t listen.”
“Because ‘I want to open a game-and-comic book shop’ isn’t a real life plan! Those things never succeed! They’re like restaurants.”
“Some do,” Evan said.
“Yeah, man, I know, some do, but—” He heaved a sigh. He wasn’t going to yell at his baby brother while the guy had a gut full of stitches. “Let me ask you this. How’s it going with the store? And—” He crossed his arms. “I’m looking for the truth here, bud.”
Evan closed his eyes and screwed up his face.
“Not so good, then,” Jax said, for him.
“Not so good,” Evan confirmed. “I’m behind on the rent and I haven’t actually—made any money.”
Jax made himself breathe. Deep, full breaths.
Even after Jax had convinced Evan to go to college—or thought he had—they kept fighting. Jax had wanted Evan to go to school near home. Evan wanted to go to school outside of California. But out-of-state tuition was twice the cost of in-state.
I just want to live a little, Evan had said.
Jax had closed his eyes, because he’d known exactly what Evan was talking about. Evan had missed almost all of seventh grade when he’d first been diagnosed with Crohn’s. He had been too sick for the eighth grade banquet, so Jax had stayed up with him and they’d watched B-grade action movies. Evan hadn’t made it to his high school prom because he’d landed in the hospital, which had necessitated another round of action movies. And the coveted school-sponsored Peru trip he’d wanted to go on the summer after junior year of high school had been a no-go because it wasn’t possible to control Evan’s diet to the extent necessary. That time, Jax had taken Evan camping as a consolation prize.
He would always be there for his brother when he was sick, but what he really wanted was to make him less sick.
For years Jax had been trying to save for one of the experimental treatments that were helping patients with harder-to-treat Crohn’s. There was an immunotherapy that had shown signs of changing lives, but Evan’s insurance sucked, and the cost was prohibitive.
Sending Evan to an out-of-state school would eat up more money and put off treatment longer. But Evan would go to college. And then he’d be able to get a better job, and between Evan and Jax they could save up for the treatment faster.
Instead, there was no college and no money.
Jax was about to ask Evan if he’d consider just giving up—returning what inventory he could, enrolling in the fall semester—when Evan said, “I want this, Jax. And I guess I just got sick of people telling me what I can’t do.”
Jax took one more deep breath. And for some reason, that one worked.
It was Evan’s life he was trying to make better. And all Evan was asking was for a little bit of control over his own destiny.
It was something Jax could do.
“Maybe you shoulda called me when you realized you were in over your head?” Jax said quietly.
“I know I screwed up,” Evan said. “And I’ll make it right.”
He was in no condition to make it right, though. That store needed help ASAP, not when Evan could be on his feet again.
His brother sank back against the pillow; he looked exhausted. A little defeated, maybe.
And suddenly Jax knew: He was going to fucking make it work for Evan. It might not have been his plan, but it was Evan’s plan.
“You have to let me help you, then.”
He’d shocked his brother. “You—”
“I’m between projects. Just finished up a house, next one doesn’t need me for a few more days.” He didn’t say that he’d been thinking about a trip somewhere—somewhere where he wouldn’t have to think for a while. Not about his mother, who refused to apply for steady work because she knew Jax would bail her out if she ran into trouble. And not about his brother, who was supposed to be safely away at college. He’d wanted a trip that was just about putting his own feet up. He wanted to pretend he was the kind of guy who could drink a beer without worrying that someone he loved was one bad day away from financial disaster.
Someday he’d take that trip. But right now he was going to make things right for Evan. “We can fix up the place to help defray rent. And that’ll make the shop more inviting, too. I can burn a better sign and build some better shelves—and get rid of that carpet, which can’t be good for your immune system.”
“You—you don’t have to do that, Jax.”
Jax was well aware that Evan hadn’t told him not to. Or even asked him not to. So all he said was, “Yeah. I don’t have to. But I want to. And it’s my investment, so you owe me the right to make it pay off.”
Despite the harshness of Jax’s words, Evan suddenly relaxed. Gave a sigh that could have been anything, but sounded a lot like relief. And—even better—the defeated look slipped away. He was—maybe not smiling, but there was a lightness in his expression that hadn’t been there before.
Jax was a sucker, maybe, but you would never convince him that Evan wasn’t worth being a sucker for.
“I’m on it. You just rest up and get better. We’re gonna make this happen for you.”
“You and Chiara,” Evan said.
“What?” Jax said.
“That’s what you meant, right? ‘We’?”
“I meant you and me.”
“Well, you can get her help, too, until I’m stronger. She’s full of good ideas. And she’s there every day until I’m ready to come back. She promised.”
Evan’s eyes had drifted closed, and his last few words blurred together.
“I can’t work with her,” Jax said. What he really meant was that she would never, in a million years, work with him.
No response from Evan, except steady, deep breathing. He’d always been able to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. In a moving car, in the middle of a sentence.
“You’re not really asleep, dude,” Jax said.
Nothing.
“It’s a bad idea.”
More nothing.
He got up slowly, arranging the books and gift cards neatly on the nightstand, folding the paper bag and tossing it in the trash.
He was in trouble. He understood that. Because working with Chiara was just a plain old bad idea. What he’d done
to her would constantly be between them—and he’d never be able to explain it. The terrible things that had happened, the events that had sent him reeling and driven him and his family to California—he’d vowed he’d never tell anyone the truth. Including the woman he’d left behind.
Work in the store? With Chiara?
He should hate the idea.
But he didn’t hate it. He didn’t hate it at all.
It was the first thing he’d really wanted in a long time.
5
Chiara was reviewing the rules of how to play Terraforming Mars, one of her favorite games, in case anyone came into the shop and wanted her to demo it. And the process of doing so was showing her something very important about the game shop: It needed a bigger table. There was only one little table with two chairs, and it was just not big enough for Terraforming Mars. What had Evan been thinking?
Probably that he had only enough money for the shoddy card table that he’d set up.
She sighed and carefully stacked up the ocean hexes. The rulebook was blurring in front of her eyes. She had slept badly last night, tossing and turning, still processing her siblings’ responses to her possible move.
But mostly she’d been unable to stop thinking about Jax. Not the worst parts. Not how she’d felt after he left—afraid, then confused, then hurt, then angry. Even ashamed, because how was it possible to have felt what she’d felt for him—believed what she’d believed about him—and for it to have come to this?
But it wasn’t bad memories that had ruined her sleep. What had kept her awake was trying to hold back a tide of good memories. Jax, mowing the Cape House lawn, shirt off, smooth and summer-tanned and glistening with sweat. Jax, the first time he’d really, really looked at her with those green eyes, the softness and curiosity that had surprised her. Jax, the way he listened so intently that she felt like what she was saying mattered, the way he pointed at her drawings and asked just the right questions. Jax, the first time he’d leaned in close enough that she could smell soap and shampoo and deodorant and skin. Him. Jax, eyes startled and dark, leaning in to capture her mouth—