by Jill Shalvis
“So that’s a yes, then,” Gavin said. He stood and turned to go.
Shit. “No,” he said to the guy’s back. “I’m not going to break your sister’s heart.” She might, however, break his . . .
Gavin turned around as if he couldn’t quite believe what Cam was saying. Frankly, Cam couldn’t believe it either.
“We did not have this conversation.”
Gavin nodded, respect in his gaze, attitude gone. He nodded toward the laptop. “I could definitely take over the bookkeeping. Shouldn’t be more than a few hours a week, and I could use the extra money.” He paused. “And if we’re divulging things that we haven’t said out loud and that are scary as fuck, you should know that I’m hoping to talk Piper into turning the property into a B and B. By renting out the cottages and using the bottom floor of the big house to serve breakfasts to guests, we’d all have some relatively easy income.”
“Have this conversation with her soon, Gavin.”
“I will.” He looked at the mess of paperwork on the desk. “Want me to start now?”
“God, yes. But tomorrow’s fine.”
They spent a few more minutes together, with Cam handing over everything Gavin would need, hoping he was doing the right thing by Piper. By all of them.
After, Cam walked up the hill to his dad’s back deck and found a couple of steaks on the barbeque, which he knew for damn sure weren’t on his dad’s list of acceptable foods. He headed into the kitchen via the back door and found his dad making out with some woman up against the refrigerator.
Cam slapped a hand over his eyes, which heightened his sense of hearing, and what he heard was clothing being quickly rearranged. “Are you kidding me?”
Emmitt cleared his throat. “Son, this is Margaret. She’s a librarian. Runs the Books on Wheels van.”
“Nice to meet you,” said Margaret, a pretty, redheaded, fiftyish woman who was flushed and breathless.
Her blouse wasn’t properly buttoned but Cam would die before mentioning it. He did his best to hold eye contact as she offered him a hand to shake. “You too,” he murmured, giving his dad a look when Margaret scurried to the oven to pull out cupcakes.
She smiled at Cam. “Honey, do you like cupcakes?”
“My dad’s diabetic. He’s on a low-sugar, low-fat diet.”
Margaret looked horrified. “So . . . you don’t like cupcakes?”
Cam looked at his dad, who had the good grace to grimace.
“Today’s a cheat day,” Emmitt said.
“Dad, we need to talk.” Cam gestured toward the living room.
His dad grinned at Margaret. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“I love trouble,” Margaret said, and gave him a wink.
In the living room, Cam rubbed the bridge of his nose where a headache was forming.
“I just realized why kids are considered great birth control,” his dad said mildly, following him in.
“Dad, you’re not taking your health seriously.”
“Of course I am. Sex is good for you.”
Cam squeezed his eyes shut. “You’re about to eat a whole bunch of red meat, and then have cupcakes filled with fat and sugar. And just to remind you, this baby that’s coming has already lost her dad.”
Emmitt’s face went solemn. “Or he. He already lost his dad.”
“Either way, they’re going to need you.”
“So what the hell am I supposed to eat?”
“You already know this,” Cam said. “You’ve got a list. You can eat anything we just bought at the store. Salmon, chicken, vegetables—”
“Ugh. Fine.” His dad started back into the kitchen. “Oh, and you might want to wear earplugs to bed tonight. Unless getting lucky is also against the rules.”
Cam just stared at him.
“By getting lucky, I mean having sex. In case you needed that spelled out.”
And to think, he’d left war zones to be here. Right about now, he’d prefer a good fire fight to this. “Dad, for future reference, I never need it spelled out.” Cam followed him back into the kitchen, nodded politely at Margaret, and then grabbed the gallon of ice cream from the freezer.
“Hey,” his dad said. “That’s mine.”
“You can’t have ice cream anymore, remember? We bought you coconut sorbet as a replacement.” Next Cam went into the fridge and took out the bottle of chocolate syrup.
“I know what people do with that,” his dad said. “And, nice. You getting lucky too?”
Margaret winked at his dad, and Cam threw up in his mouth a little bit. “It’s for dessert.”
“Ah. Is that what the kids are calling it these days?”
Cam decided walking away was for everyone’s safety. A few minutes later, he knocked at the house next door, but no one answered. Probably because the occupants were yelling at each other. Loudly. So he let himself in and followed the commotion to the kitchen.
“It was just a charger,” Gavin was saying.
“It was my last phone charger,” Piper said. “And you didn’t even ask.”
“Remember that time I cut myself with the pocketknife you gave me for Christmas?” Gavin asked. “And the doctor thought I needed a blood transfusion? You were willing to give me your blood that day, remember? And now you can’t even give me a charger?”
“I’d give you my blood and my charger,” Winnie interjected. “But I lost my charger. I also lost my phone, so . . .”
Gavin looked at her. “Again?”
“Do you want to die?”
Piper growled at them both and tossed up her hands.
Cam opened his mouth to announce his presence, but right then Gavin cleared his throat and spoke first, quickly and a little breathlessly, like he had to get it out fast or not at all. “Speaking of blood and chargers.” He looked at Piper. “I, uh, lied when I told you I was on vacation from the IT job. I’m not on vacation. I’m on extended leave.” He paused. “No, wait. That’s a lie too. Sorry, bad habit.” He shook his head. “After the DUI, I got fired. And then I went to rehab. I’ve been out for six months, but I haven’t been able to get another job that makes enough to support myself.” He spread his arms out a little. “So . . . here I am, and I realize I need to make amends to you. I’m sorry I lied. Or omitted. I’m sorrier than I can say. I never meant to hurt you.”
Utter silence.
Cam took a step back to give them privacy. Flying under the radar was definitely the way to go, and he turned to leave, but that’s when Piper saw him.
So did Gavin, who seemed hugely relieved. “Oh, good. Someone not related to me, and you’ve got chocolate.” He turned to Piper. “Before you kill me, you should know that I’ve been hired by Cam to handle the marina books. So if you kill me, you’ll screw over Cam and Emmitt.”
So much for flying under the radar.
Chapter 13
“Wanting to kill each other is sort of the definition of being siblings.”
Piper was reeling. She was aware of Cam standing there, and that a part of her recognized him as both someone to be careful with and an ally, but she didn’t take her eyes off Gavin. Couldn’t. “What did you just say?”
“That Cam hired me.”
“Before that,” she said tightly. “What did you say before that?”
Gavin lost the smile and let out a long breath. “Please don’t ask me to say it again. It was hard enough the first time.”
“But . . .” She shook her head. “Rehab? For what?”
“Remember when I broke my wrist a few years ago? They gave me a bunch of pain meds.”
“Yes,” she said slowly, her mind doing the opposite and going a hundred fifty miles per hour. “The same ones Winnie had been given the year before for her appendectomy. And me for my sprained ankle.”
“I know. I stole Winnie’s leftovers because I couldn’t find any more and I needed them.”
Sadness and worry joined her fear and panic. “Oh, Gavin,” she whispered. “Two years ago? You’ve been tak
ing pills that long?”
“Actually, three years, and yes.”
Winnie, who hadn’t said anything during this exchange, and who knew the whole story but only since he got out of rehab, suddenly burst into tears. Huge, gulping, loud sobs.
Before Piper could do anything, Gavin pulled Winnie into his arms. “Like old times,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “You always used to cry every time we’d fight.”
Winnie buried her head in his chest and kept crying.
Piper felt the urge to do the same. But she was the oldest, the one in charge, a failure apparently, and to make it all worse, Cam was a witness to all of it, all of their crazy, messy life.
“It’s going to be okay,” Gavin told Winnie. “Don’t make yourself sick.”
“It’s not going to be okay!” Winnie hiccupped through her tears and pushed away to point at him. “You’re not okay, and I don’t know how to make you okay! And I need you to be okay, Gavin!”
“Win,” he said quietly, but with utter conviction, “I got ahold of the demons, I promise you.”
Piper could hear her heart pounding in her ears, because she hadn’t even known he had demons. What kind of sister didn’t know this about her own baby brother, the same sweet boy who’d been through hell before they’d landed back in Wildstone? Such hell that she hadn’t been sure she’d ever be able to reach him. Her biggest fear had always been that she’d fail, and she had. She reached for his hand. “Gavin—”
“I really am so sorry I didn’t tell you the truth,” he said quietly. “That I hurt you.”
He looked anxious and . . . nervous, and she realized what he needed. “It’s in the past,” she said just as quietly. “You’re forgiven.”
“You don’t have to let me off the hook that easily. I hurt you.”
“You hurt yourself more.” She squeezed his hand. “But now you’re not alone.”
Winnie swiped at her eyes, which made her mascara run. “This is all so scary,” she whispered soggily. “Everything’s so scary.”
And that was another thing. Piper hadn’t known they were scared. How had she not known?
“What’s scary is your face right now,” Gavin told Winnie. “You look like a raccoon.”
On the stove was the pot of mac and cheese she’d made, along with a plate of sliced-up hot dogs, ready to be stirred into the mac and cheese. Winnie picked up a little round and flung it at Gavin.
It bounced off his chin, and he stared at her in shock before scooping a spoonful of mac and cheese and flinging it at her.
It hit her square in the forehead.
The next one hit the wall because Winnie ducked. “This is why we can’t have nice things!” she screeched, and picked the piece of macaroni from her forehead and ate it. “Good stuff, though.”
“Are you kidding me?” Piper said. “Stop.”
They didn’t. And it was like trying to hold back the tide. They’d lost their minds.
“Seriously,” she yelled, refusing to look over at Cam, because she could only imagine what he must think. “Stop!”
Winnie, who’d caught a spoonful of flying mac and cheese with her cheek, pointed at Gavin. “You’re so dead.”
In the next beat, the skirmish was full-on war. Piper opened her mouth to yell again and got hit in the face and chest with mac and cheese.
Sweet Cheeks was cleaning up the floor, chirping in happiness as utter chaos reigned. Until a piercing whistle stopped them in their tracks, and they all turned in unison toward the source.
Cam. He shook his head in shock. “I’ve been in battles that were less harrowing. What the actual hell?”
He sounded so uncharacteristically surprised and shocked that under any other circumstances, Piper would’ve laughed. As it was, it was all she could do not to cry. But she hadn’t cried in years. If she lost it now, she’d never recover.
“Man, you don’t have any sisters,” Gavin said. “Be grateful. They’re . . .” He circled a finger at the side of his head, the universal sign for loco. Then he reloaded his spoon with another scoop of mac and cheese and turned to Piper with a raised brow.
“Don’t. You. Dare,” she said. “You were an addict and you couldn’t tell me?”
“Not past tense. Once an addict, always an addict.” He gave her a knowing look. “Just like once a control freak, always a control freak.”
Piper blinked. “Are you referring to me?”
He pointed to her ever-present journal lying on the counter. “Yes, Ms. Has-to-Make-a-List-for-Everything, I am.”
She resisted the urge to hug the journal to her chest. Instead—and she had no idea what came over her; maybe it was the heavy weight of sorrow and rage and guilt—before she could think or stop herself, she grabbed a hot-dog bun and pitched it at him.
He ducked, and it hit Winnie in the nose.
“Hey!” Winnie shrieked. “I’m not the druggie. That’s Gavin and Daddy!”
In the act of reaching for another bun, Piper froze. “What?” she whispered, sure she’d heard wrong.
Winnie turned to Gavin. “Tell her.”
“Okay, but remember,” he said to Piper, “I warned you not to let me off the hook that easily and you forgave me anyway.” Gavin grimaced, and a piece of macaroni fell off his chin. “So, fun fact . . . I was going through Gram’s office earlier while you were working.”
Piper stared at him. “You had no right to do that.”
“I’ve got as much right as you.”
Piper blinked, but only one eye reopened, because the other was crusted shut with cheese.
“I found a file of medical stuff,” Gavin said. “Doctor visits, prescriptions, stuff like that. Turns out, Dad was addicted to Oxy too.” He gave a wan smile. “Apple and tree and all that, I guess. Who knew, huh?”
Piper, whose legs had lost all their bones, sank into a chair and swiped at the glued-shut eye. “Dad was addicted to drugs?”
“Prescription meds,” he said, and when she stared at him, he shrugged. “He was getting help for it, though. I actually thought you probably already knew. Winnie was too young, and I guess I was too.”
“Oh my God,” Piper whispered.
“Okay, so you definitely didn’t know.” With a sigh, he sat next to her. “Sucks, right? But I gotta admit, it’s nice to see you showing your feelings instead of hiding them and pretending they’re not there at all in some misguided attempt to be strong for us.”
She shoved her hair away from her face—and gross, there was mac and cheese in it—and glared at him. “This is not about me and my feelings.” Upset, she got back to her feet. “This is about you, Gavin, and your drug addiction. The one you hid from me. How is that healthy? Isn’t that against recovery advice, having secrets?”
Gavin’s face closed up, and to her shock, he stood as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he kept his mouth shut and just walked out of the room.
Winnie, after an accusatory, tear-filled glance, followed.
Piper huffed out a breath. “I’m sorry,” she murmured to Cam, and then, needing a moment, stepped out the back door. Deciding maybe she needed several moments, she walked along the hill, going just far enough to stare at the turbulent, choppy lake.
Cam followed her. She heard his footsteps, and was grateful he hadn’t spoken. She turned and looked at him and had to let out a rough laugh.
He was holding the bottle of wine she’d bought at the store earlier.
“Good call,” she said, and took a long pull. She swiped her mouth on her arm and looked him over. “How the hell did you manage to not get a single drop of food on you?”
“I wasn’t in the line of fire.” He took her hand in his. Which meant that he now knew she had sweaty palms, and he could probably hear her pounding pulse as well. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She shook her head. “No.” She breathed for a minute. “I did warn you it was going to be a shit show. I mean, I know they’re my siblings, but sometimes it’s like we’re strangers.”
“Maybe if you guys talked some more, got everything out.”
“Gavin lost his job and went to rehab. And Winnie is completely unconcerned about missing school . . .”
“Talk to them,” he repeated softly.
“But I don’t even know where to start, at least not without sounding like a judgmental idiot.”
“Start with something easy,” he suggested. “Like . . . Gavin, Winnie . . . you’re my brother and sister, and your life choices are yours to make, and I’ll support you no matter what.”
She choked out a laugh and took another long sip of wine. The liquid courage had her whispering her fear out loud. “What if I can’t say that?”
“Well, then . . .” Cam gave her a very small smile. “Piper, you’re my neighbor, and your life choices are yours to make, and I’ll support you no matter what.”
She started to smile, but felt a sob coming on, so she turned away.
Cam slowly pulled her back around. And then into him.
“Careful,” she said. “I’m covered in—”
He didn’t stop until she was plastered up against him and he was hugging her. He held her like that until she stopped vibrating with pent-up emotion and devastation. Then and only then did he slide his fingers along her jaw and tilt her face up to his, lowering his head to give her a sweet kiss that she felt all the way to her toes. It seemed to infuse her with a strength she’d forgotten she had, and when he pulled away, she drew a deep breath.
“Thanks,” she whispered, and eyed his shirt. She’d mashed some mac and cheese into him. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“Let me guess. You’ve had worse?”
“Yes. And you’re stalling.”
She drew another deep breath and nodded. “I am. Talking’s never really worked out for us as a family.”
“Maybe it’s not about talking. Maybe it’s about listening.”
She looked at him.
He looked at her right back.
“You . . . think I don’t listen,” she said.
“I think you’re smart as hell. Which means you almost always have the right answers. But sometimes people need to find those answers on their own. They need to make their own mistakes. They need to know that when they admit those mistakes, they’re going to be loved and accepted anyway. And before you think I’m smarter than I am, you should know I only learned all that when it was too late. Don’t be too late.”