Blatantly Blythe (The Ghost Falls Series Book 3)

by Sarah Hegger

  She chuckled. “Maybe.”

  “Definitely.”

  “At least I was your favorite toy.” She tried to make light of it, and that took another piece out of him. He was turning down all that warmth and generosity. Not because he thought he could find better somewhere else. He accepted that he was walking away from the best thing that had, and likely would, ever happen to him. But he couldn’t be his dad. Even the thought of his dad’s face and that baffled and bested look of utter despondency made Eric want to choke and loosen his collar for more air.

  He put her at arm’s length and looked down into her lovely face. “I’m here to say I’m sorry for all of it. Sorry I didn’t do better when I had you, appreciate every incredible thing about you. Sorry for acting like a dick today and every other time I did, and mostly sorry that I’m not capable of giving you everything you deserve.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. If he went near her mouth, he would kiss her with all the pent-up longing and lust inside him, not even ten seconds after he’d promised to do better. “So, this is goodbye to my lover, to my sweet thing.”

  Tears swum in her eyes. “Goodbye, Eric.”

  “Maybe you’re not ready. Maybe I’m not ready, but I would hate to think that every part of us is over.” Eric forced himself to drop his hands from her and stepped back. “There’s no way to say this without sounding trite, but I’m hoping like hell there is enough of us left that we can one day be friends.”

  “Friends?” She gave a watery chuckle. “I don’t think I was ever any good at being your friend.” She shrugged. “But why the hell not? Let’s try to be friends.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Eric wasn’t much of a drinker, but leaving Blythe’s apartment, he couldn’t face being on his own.

  Matt was probably still pissed at him. Pippa, Bella and Liz were probably rounding up the mob, and he didn’t fancy one more person pointing out how much of an ass he’d been. That much was ringingly clear already.

  Driving up the hill, he went into the bar Jo sometimes worked at. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or not to see Jo behind the bar.

  She looked at him with surprise. “Hey.”

  “Hey yourself.” He pulled up a stool to the U-shaped sweep of mahogany, polished to a gleaming russet. “Got a drink back there for your brother?”

  “Sure, if you got money.” Jo leaned her elbows on the bar. “And you leave a huge tip.”

  “I can do that.”

  Not many people frequented the place tonight. They were in between the summer and winter seasons now, which affected the bars up here near the holiday cottages the most.

  He used the term cottage very lightly. He and Matt had built a fair number of those cottages and tagged a price on them to match. Highgate was supposed to be the jewel in their crown. A month ago, he’d been riding high and feeling like he could take on the world and win. Now he watched his sister pour him a single-malt and wondered what took so long.

  “What happened to your ink?” Her arms bared by her tank top seemed to have less ink than when last he’d seen her.

  Jo grinned at him. “Some of them are temporary. I put them on just to see Matt almost swallow his tongue.”

  “Brat.” Eric chuckled. Matt could never resist babying the rest of them. Especially Isaac and Jo. Eric reckoned it was why Isaac stayed on the run. The kid needed to find out who the hell he was without Matt looking out for him.

  Eric didn’t blame Matt. Matt had shouldered a huge burden at nineteen and putting it down couldn’t be easy. Trying to single parent his teen brothers and sister made him due for a sainthood. Cressy had left all of that on her oldest son’s shoulders.

  She’d sucked Dad in, and then Matt, and slowly drained the life out of them. When Eric had seen how Matt felt about Pippa, and also that the dumb shit might let her get away, he had stepped in. Cressy hadn’t won that round.

  Jo served a couple of drinks at the far end of the bar.

  Sipping his drink, Eric studied the view outside the large, plate glass windows. Yellows and oranges created colorful smudges amongst the browning scrub oak. The snow would bring the cottage crowd, and the bar would be standing room only.

  “How’s school going?” he asked Jo when she rejoined him.

  She shrugged. She always shrugged, in case he got the mistaken impression that she needed his help.

  Jesus, he was cursed by women who refused to take any kind of help, and he wanted to understand. He was sitting here drinking scotch on a Wednesday evening because he didn’t get it.

  “Let me ask you something.” He finished his drink and motioned Jo for another. He waited until she brought it before he spoke again. “Why are you so hell bent on taking no help?”

  Jo stiffened and went squinty eyed.

  “No, wait.” That had come out wrong. “I’m not challenging that, I’m not even offering to help because I know you don’t want that. I just want to understand why taking help is such a bad thing.”

  “It’s not that it’s a bad thing.” Jo hunched her shoulders and folded her arms. She thought for a while. “It’s for the same reasons as you wouldn’t want to always be leaning on someone. Independence. A sense of pride in doing something yourself.” She fiddled with her drying cloth on her shoulder. “And also it’s about proving to yourself and other people that you can. Mostly to yourself actually.”

  “Huh.”

  “Well, hello there.” Jo beamed at someone behind him.

  Noel sidled up to the barstool beside him. “Eric.” Noel gave him a nod and Jo a shy smile. “Miss Jo.”

  “I see we had the same idea.” Eric motioned his drink. “What can I get you?”

  “The same please, Jo.” Noel was a soft-spoken man, short and ordinary looking. You had to know him to know the magic of Noel, and Eric was glad to say he did. “I’m supposed to lie and pretend I ran into you.” Noel grimaced. “But I’m a horrible liar and Pippa sent me to find you. She said you probably needed somebody to talk to.”

  “Pippa?” Eric had to shake his head at that one. “And you lucked out on finding me here?”

  “I texted him.” Jo shrugged. “Pippa got to me too.”

  “Boy, do I feel loved.” Eric wanted to get mad at Pippa for interfering, but even as she infuriated you, you had to love Pippa. She only meant the best. And she was right. Someone to talk to would be great. He couldn’t have picked anyone better than Noel.

  Jo smiled at him. “I’ll leave you two alone to your man talk.”

  Noel sipped his drink.

  Eric sipped his.

  “Did you watch the game on Tuesday?” Noel broke the silence.

  “No.” Eric wasn’t sure which game, but he knew he hadn’t watch one.

  Noel nodded. “It was a good game. Stone ended up getting his ass suspended.”

  “Really?”

  “Yup, for twenty games.”

  “Damn.” Eric welcomed the soft pedal Noel was doing. “That’s gotta hurt the team.”

  “For sure.” Noel grabbed the menu and scanned it. “I wouldn’t want to be Sam Stone right now.”

  They both sipped their drinks.

  “We got some issues on site.” Eric opened another topic. “Got some of the crew agitating. Things could get nasty.”

  Noel shook his head. “You don’t want that.”

  “Nope, but I think I’ve got it in hand now.”

  “Good.”

  Jo popped up in front of them. She glared at Eric and then Noel. “You’re both pathetic. You know that?”

  Noel nodded.

  Not willing to give her the total win, Eric did a sort of head bob. A small enough gesture to give him plausible deniability.

  “So, let me help you out.” Jo put her elbows on the bar and leaned toward them. “We think Blythe and Eric have had a secret thing going, but nobody�
�s sure for how long or how serious. Eric behaved like a horse’s ass to Blythe, and we think it’s because she dumped him.” She straightened and motioned to them. “Think you can take it from here?”

  Not a hope in hell, but Eric gave it his best. “You up for this?”

  “I am if you are.” Nodding, Noel smiled.

  Talking about himself never sat well with Eric. Opening a vein and bleeding to another person felt like hell, but he also needed to share the conflicting mass of crap going on inside him. “You know, my dad. Well, you didn’t know him, but my dad used to talk to me.”

  Noel sipped.

  “Matt still believes he and our dad were the closest. Dad leaned on Matt, but he talked to me. I think it was because we were the most alike.”

  Noel nodded and motioned Jo for another round.

  Now for the doozy. The thing he never spoke of and had made a vow not to. But his vow seemed pointless in light of the Blythe-induced shitstorm. “He didn’t love my mother.” The words hung out there like a newly stripped branch. “Oh, he did when he married her but not at the end.”

  “Cressy is an interesting woman,” Noel said.

  Interesting? Nah, his mother was a viper pit of need and manipulation. “Toward the end, he felt trapped. He stayed for us, but he felt trapped all the same. I think when he died, he was happy to be away from her.”

  Noel stared at him, unblinking. Those pale eyes could pierce right through bullshit into the truth. “Matt know this?”

  “Nope. Nobody does but me. And maybe her, but she’s sure as fuck not going to tell anyone.” The weight of his betrayal to his father pressed down on Eric.

  Noel nodded. “They won’t hear it from me.” He took a deep breath. “Your dad told you this?”

  “Yeah.” And there were days when Eric wished he hadn’t.

  “Helluva thing to tell your kid,” Noel said. “Not sure a kid should know that about his old man.”

  Neither was Eric, but he did know, and there was no shutting that door when it had been thrust open. “The thing is, with being the most like him, I never wanted to be him. Trapped.”

  “Sure, you didn’t.” Noel pulled a face. “Nobody wants to be trapped.”

  Eric’s third drink must have evaporated, but Jo was there with the bottle topping his glass up.

  “I screwed around on Liz,” Noel said. “Felt trapped and screwed around.”

  Most of them had heard Liz’s side of the story because Liz tended to make sure you did. Not so much Noel. To hear Liz tell it, she’d been undergoing chemo for breast cancer when Noel had stepped out on her.

  “I loved her, you know. Loved her more than I thought I could love another human being.” Noel looked at him. “I’m not a looker like you or your brothers. Can’t play a sport for crap. Don’t even have a huge brain or anything.” Looking down at his drink, Noel gave a soft laugh. “The only time I ever swung for the fences was with Liz. I couldn’t believe she’d even look at me. Then she married me, and half the time I kept pinching myself to find out if it was real.”

  Talking about Noel was better than digging around in his crap, so Eric gave him a grunt of encouragement.

  “Then she got sick.” Noel’s voice thickened. “And suddenly it was like I’d stumbled across a unicorn and it was dying. I panicked. Felt trapped by my own heart. Messed around and lost her.”

  Damn that felt a shade too familiar. Not the messing around part. He and Blythe had never talked about being exclusive but they both had been for those brief periods they’d been together.

  He owed Miranda a call. There weren’t going to be any more dinners.

  “What did you do?” He knew the ending, but Eric wanted to hear the middle parts from Noel.

  “Woke up one morning and found myself alone.” Noel shrugged. “Not for sex. Sex isn’t that hard to find.”

  According to Liz, and Eric really wished he didn’t know this about the guy, but Noel had top of the line equipment and made it count.

  “I missed her,” Noel said. “Even her waking up beside me on Sunday morning with breath like a goat and making me get her coffee. I missed everything. Every crazy little detail that made up that woman.”

  They both sipped and contemplated the view.

  Noel’s story cut a little close to home.

  “I convinced myself that I would be fine without her.” Noel chuckled. “And ended up lonely as hell instead.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I begged,” Noel said. “I groveled, and I kept coming around and telling her I was here to stay, and I wouldn’t screw up again.”

  Eric felt like such a whiner even voicing his question, but Noel wasn’t the kind to judge. “What made you think you had the right to? What if you couldn’t give her what she needed?”

  “I’m still not sure that I can.” Noel shook his head. “Don’t think I ever will be. But here’s what it came down to.” He tapped his forefinger on the bar. “One day, another guy was going to step into the gap, and be the reason she smiled. You know that smile?” Noel glanced at Eric. “The one you know that you put on her face, and it makes your chest feel huge?”

  Shit. Fuck. Damn.

  Eric did know that smile. He’d given up his rights to that smile.

  And why exactly was that?

  “What if I can’t give her what she needs?” He floated the question out there.

  Noel laughed. “You have to ask yourself, firstly, why can’t you, and secondly, if you can accept it and live with it with when some other man does?”

  They didn’t say much more after that. They finished their drinks and paid Jo, not forgetting the huge tip she would have chased them into the parking lot for.

  Not wanting to drive with four drinks under his belt, he decided to walk home. It was a long walk, but he needed to clear his head.

  Here was the thing, the question had popped into his mind as Noel spoke and now wouldn’t go away.

  What if he tried?

  At some point in his teens he’d made up his mind he wasn’t the type who stayed. Desperate not to fulfill his father’s legacy, he’d made a decision and stuck to it.

  Now, here’s where the issue got sticky. At about that point, Laura had done what she’d done to him and affirmed the decision. At the same time, however, an angel in a denim miniskirt and tiny shirt had also dropped right into his lap.

  Angel in a denim miniskirt? Yeah, he wasn’t much of a drinker.

  However, the fact remained, that for as long as he’d been telling himself he would never settle down, there had been Blythe in his life. Sure she hung around on the periphery but she was always there.

  Two young girls walked up the hill toward him. Dressed in jeans and band T-shirts for bands he’d bet his life they couldn’t tell him one song of. Both girls looked at him as he passed, and then giggled as they walked away.

  Girls about the same age as Blythe when she had walked into his life with a cup of coffee and a smile in her eyes that made him unburden his soul to her.

  He turned and watched the two girls saunter away from him. So young and perched on the cusp of so much to come.

  Had he robbed Blythe of those years?

  “Get over here, sweet thing.”

  “Why?”

  “I’ll show you when you get here.”

  She said she loved him, and on some level, he’d known that, but it had been more convenient to pretend she didn’t and avoid making the decision to end things. His cowardice taunted him. He’d not wanted to face the way she felt because he liked having her around too much.

  And now she was gone, and he sure as hell didn’t like that. Despite what he’d said to her earlier, he wasn’t reconciled to letting her walk away from him. Then there was what Noel had said.

  He’d given Blythe the all-clear to go out there and find some dickhead
to marry her, see her beautiful smile, slide into bed beside her every night, make her laugh. Make love to her.

  Not a fucking chance.

  And here was the big question, the big what if.

  What if he could be that dickhead?

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Even with Dixie’s assurances that Brett didn’t live at the house and would be at work now, Blythe’s hand still slipped, slick with sweat, on the steering wheel, and her heart beat uncomfortably hard. But it had been weeks since she’d seen Carly. Her brothers wouldn’t check that Carly ate or care if she didn’t. God alone knew what had happened to her personal hygiene.

  As Carly didn’t leave the house for anything, Blythe had to come to her.

  Dixie stood in the yard, waiting for her. The old bathtub had been hauled away, along with the rusted out relics of cars that someone planned to fix someday.

  Someone had mowed the grass and cleared the weeds from the walkway.

  Dixie caught sight of her and whistled. “Well now, lookee there at you, Miss Thang.”

  “Hey Dixie.” Blythe still kept an eye out for Brett.

  “You look amazing.” Dixie picked up a tendril of her hair. “Ah-maze-ing. Where did you get all this done?”

  “Pippa St. Amor gave me a bit of a makeover.” She walked onto the porch.

  The clothes washer was working, rocking the porch as it did. Judging from her life there, she had believed herself the only one who ever did laundry.

  “Brett.” Dixie jerked her head.

  Blythe’s heart stopped and she swung around.

  “Not here.” Dixie snorted and nudged her. “I wouldn’t do that to you, but he told Bo and Becker to get on with the laundry.”

  Blythe’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “And did he make them clear up the yard as well?”

  “You know it.” Dixie laughed. “You could hear them bitching about it from our place.

  Following Dixie into the house, Blythe looked about her.

  The house looked like it had been cleaned. Not perfect, but coats actually hung on the rack, and several pairs of large motorcycle boots were neatly lined up beneath them.