Give and Take

by Lee Kilraine

  “Wyatt, it’s okay to be angry.” Her palm gentle against my face, her fingers soft and soothing like a horse whisperer would calm a wild stallion.

  “Why the hell would I be angry?” I bit out, my voice strained so the words tumbled out rough and sharp. I wrapped my hands around her wrists; I needed to get away from her softness—her tenderness.

  “Well, I’m only guessing here—although I’ve grown to know you enough to see the sensitive side you hide under that starched, cool demeanor.” Rhia’s eyes, like some fucking mystic. It felt like she saw right down to my twisted soul. “But maybe because you want those little scraps of your mom your brothers have…that Hope has. And it hurts to hear them share them and know you’re standing here empty-handed.”

  I sucked in a breath, my head forming the words of denial, but my throat went tight.

  “My heart breaks for the little boy you were. A sweet boy who needed his mother’s love—maybe even more than the others—and had none of it left to remember.”

  “No.” My hands trembled on her wrists, and I stared hard into her eyes.

  “It’s okay, Wyatt. It’s okay to want a small piece of the love they had.”

  “I do. I do and it hurts—physically hurts, like someone’s grabbing my heart in their fist and squeezing.” So much pain I was having trouble breathing. “Hearing their memories took me right back to that lonely place—no mother, no brothers—just well-meaning strangers with no clue how to rescue a sad, silent boy.”

  Rhia’s hands stroked my chest and along my jaw.

  “Isn’t that the shit? Because I had it the easiest.” My eyes stung and I heard myself swallow, easing the tightness in my throat. “And I’m jealous of the single good thing they had if only for a short time. How fucking selfish is that?”

  “It’s not selfish at all. You were a scared little boy who wanted to feel loved in the midst of his loneliness. To feel safe in a scary situation.” She went up on tiptoes and brushed her lips feather-soft against mine. She wrapped her arms slowly around me, resting her head against my chest where my heart beat against my rib cage like a wild animal trying to escape. Raw emotion forced its way from my throat, escaping as an anguished groan. I wrapped my arms tight around Rhia, my lips pressed against her soft hair, and stifled the sob that tried to claw its way out of my chest.

  It wasn’t until I wiped my nose with my sleeve that I realized I was crying. The last time I cried was the last time they’d split up me and my brothers, scattering us through the foster system. The beginning of the loneliest years of my life.

  Rhia hugged me tighter, kissed my neck, and whispered to me. “You’re a special man, Wyatt Thorne. Wanting love isn’t selfish. It means you have a big heart. And that’s an amazing thing after what you’ve been through.”

  I leaned down and kissed her. Just a soft touch to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. To let her know I was grateful she was here.

  She reached up, using her thumbs to wipe the moisture from my face.

  “I’m not crying,” I said.

  “I know.”

  “It just the wood allergy I developed five minutes ago.”

  “I know, I think I’m allergic too.”

  I bent down to get a closer look. I’ll be damned. “Please don’t cry for me, Rhia. Thanks to my brothers, I’m really fine.”

  “I’ve got a newsflash for you, Wyatt. You’re more than fine.”

  Chapter 22

  Rhia

  Wow, talk about a crazy Monday. The explosion of Hope on to the scene and in the office had been a shock for the brothers yesterday. (Probably wasn’t easy on Hope, either.) It wasn’t every day your long-lost sister held up someone at fake-gunpoint and next thing you knew, stories were exchanged, tears were shed, laughter was shared, and bonds were formed.

  Also lots of alcohol flowed at the wake for their mom, so eventually everyone grabbed an Uber home, and I suspected it would be a quiet morning at the SBC office today. Hope had agreed to stay with Beck and Sam until she had to head back to Arizona in three days. Which was nice.

  The sharp memory of Wyatt’s pain had me pulling in a slow breath. But Wyatt loved his brothers something fierce. And I was pretty sure he was more than halfway to loving his sister too.

  I wasted no time getting started on my mother’s luncheon. Which worked well, since I had no time to waste. First, I made sure I was on top of all my other contracted events. I had the sweet sixteen party and the twin reunion ready to go. Check and check. I made one more set of calls for each to touch base with both the venues and the caterers. I went over guest lists and music selections. All set. I had just put together a proposal for a murder mystery party, so I sent a follow up email.

  Then I was ready to take on my mom’s event. I spent all morning on the phone trying to figure out what the original planner had already completed, booked, set up, and made initial deposits for. It turned out he’d done nothing. Not a thing. He’d taken the money and run.

  The only good news is mom had only handed him half the money to start. So I had half a budget and three weeks to work with. Wow. As pitiful as it was—it helped. It did, because it took almost every option off the table and left the only one available as far as venue and budget. An open house at my parents’ home.

  An idea my mother hated when I presented it to her an hour later.

  “No. Absolutely not. We cannot throw a party for almost two hundred people here on such short notice.”

  “Well, I’ve got news for you: You can’t throw a party for almost two hundred people anywhere else on short notice and no budget. But that’s fine. Here’s the check.” I handed it out for her to take. She stared at it like I was handing over a snake. I shook it at her. “Mom, if you aren’t willing to hold an open house, I can’t help you. You can simply cancel the event, and donate the money to a needy charity. People will think you’re socially aware with a generous heart.”

  Mom tilted her face off to the side, her eyes blinking rapidly while she thought it through. I’m sure she was weighing which one would dent her reputation more: canceling the annual employee appreciation event (Oh, look, the new department head takes her staff for granted) vs. throwing a tacky open house (My, the menu is bland and cheap, but at least she tried).

  “Fine. An open house it is, but Rhia, I insist it be classy, tasteful, and only the best food and drinks.”

  I smiled at her and nodded. “It’s going to be great, Mom. Fabulous even. Thanks for trusting me on this.”

  “Like I had a choice?” She gathered her briefcase from the antique table in the center of the foyer. My parents really did have a lovely house, and they’d given a talented interior decorator a blank check to refurbish it top to bottom last year. It was a showcase. “I’ve got to get back to work. I’m counting on you, Rhia. Don’t get flighty and forget something now. You know how you get.”

  It’s like she thought I was still the same person I was in high school. Thanks, Mom.

  “Food. I’ll want a hot buffet with at least three entrée choices. Fresh flower arrangements for every room. Oh, Sylvan Strings! See if you can get them. They played at the governor’s ball last year. They were excellent. Top shelf alcohol of course. Don’t forget my favorite champagne. That’s a must.”

  “Mom, I’m on it. I do this for a living. It’s my job.” It was also my job to stay on budget, so Dr. Hollis was going to be in for a rude awakening when she found out what she could afford. Probably even pitch a fit. Which is why I decided not to tell her. She would be the first client I’d ever broken my normal protocol for: Show the client exactly where the money is going.

  Not this time. Based on the wildly-out-of-budget items she’d just asked for, she was clueless about entertainment costs. I knew I could pull together something that would win rave reviews from her employees and her peers. So I would, only I’d save us both the gnashing of teeth and keep her out o
f the loop until the event.

  I headed back to my office to begin making calls. Wyatt, as always, was at his desk both working and frowning. He looked as tired as I felt.

  “Wyatt, you doing okay?”

  “Hmm,” he said, still focused on his computer. Then he blinked, shook his head once, and looked at me. “I’m playing catch up with work. There’s always that one client who likes to change roof lines at the last minute. So I’m busy, but good. How are you?”

  “I’m doing okay. Got all my balls in the air, and you know how crazy my mom’s job is going to be, but if half the people I call today say yes, then I’m going to be fine. Nervous, but fine.”

  “Rhia, you’re good at what you do. This will be great.” God, he was the nicest, most supportive guy. The fact that he looked hot, with those dark blue eyes, was a bonus. A bonus that made my stomach feel like a butter churn right now.

  “Oh, hey, can you help me get something off the top shelf in the closet?” I jumped up and moved into the walk-in storage closet.

  “Yeah, sure.” Wyatt slid his pencil into the pencil case on his desk and joined me. “What do you need?”

  “This.” I leaned over, pulled the door shut before I plastered my body against his, wrapped my arms around his neck, and kissed him. It was hot, wet, frantic, and oh, so necessary to my well-being.

  Wyatt’s hands went around me; one hand sliced through my hair to cradle the back of my head, the other down on my ass where he pulled me tight up against him. His lips devoured mine. Like he needed this too.

  Me. Him. Touching. Yeah. I ground my pelvis into his hard-on, making him groan. I wasn’t sure how far we would have gone if it hadn’t been for the knock on the closet.

  “Hello? Is it closet inventory time already?”

  Wyatt dragged his mouth from mine and pulled me in closer, tucking my head under his chin while we both came down to earth. “Go away, Gray.”

  “What about me? Do I need to go away?” Eli’s voice also came through loud and clear. “I’d like to find out how many pencils we have.”

  “Shut up, Eli.” Wyatt’s chest rumbled against my ear, but I felt his lips curve into a smile against my forehead. “Well, it could be worse—it could be all of my brothers.”

  “What’s going on?” Beck’s voice joined in outside of the closet.

  “Inventory,” Eli said.

  “Oh, right,” Beck said. “Sam and I used to do inventory too.”

  “So how many pencils?” Eli’s voice sounded close, like he had his mouth up to the seam of the door to talk.”

  I snickered into Wyatt’s chest. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “I’m not sorry.”

  “Well, me neither, but I’m embarrassed. Your brothers know we’re messing around now.”

  “I’ve got news for you.” Wyatt’s hands combed through my loose curls. He played with my hair a lot, and I loved when he did. “Not much gets by them. Pretty sure they already knew we were messing around.”

  “Oh, well in that case, kiss me again please.” I grabbed onto his ears and pulled his head down, then touched my lips to his. Wyatt pulled me back in and the fire in the pit of my stomach flamed up all over again. He plundered with his tongue, and I added mine. It was so sweet and hot I almost forgot we were in a closet. Almost.

  “What the hell’s going on?” Ash.

  “Inventory,” Beck, Gray, and Eli said in unison.

  “Ah, right,” Ash said. “Jon and I used to do inventory.”

  “Maybe you should cut Rhia some slack and let us finish inventory without an audience,” Wyatt called over his shoulder.

  “Only on account of Rhia,” Gray said. “Leaving now, bro.”

  When it got quiet on the other side of the door, Wyatt checked that the coast was clear, and we made our exit. I didn’t regret one second of it.

  “Hey, wait. Wasn’t your test this morning?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well? How do you think it went?”

  He frowned and spiked a hand through his hair. “I don’t know. Not great. But then again, I felt this way after the test before and I passed that one, so maybe fine. I’ll get the results in a few weeks.”

  “I’m sure you did great. Hey, want to come over to my place tonight? We can celebrate your latest test and my mother giving me her big job.”

  “I’d like that. As long as it includes taking inventory.” Wyatt’s eyes twinkled at me.

  “Deal.”

  Wyatt and I both worked the rest of the afternoon. At some point, Wyatt disappeared for a few hours. When he came back, he smelled like fresh cut wood, and he had sawdust on the toes of his boots. His face was more relaxed than I’d seen him all day.

  Later that night, Wyatt came over to my apartment. He brought an order of vegetable fried rice and pot stickers.

  We ate, we talked, and we laughed and kissed.

  And then we moved to the bedroom.

  We took inventory. A very thorough inventory.

  * * * *

  I spent the next two days calling in favors, cajoling friends and vendors I’d worked with before, a few times outright begging for them to squeeze me into their schedule on short notice. Within the first forty-eight hours, I had the caterer booked and menu agreed upon. There would be no buffet. There would be amazing hors d’oeuvres passed around by wait staff, and my mother would love it. Once she got over not getting her buffet. The alcohol order was easy, along with calling up my favorite bartender. She knew two others she’d bring on to help.

  I booked the university’s own student string quartet, because why shouldn’t they get the exposure? I did reach out to Mom for her list of favorite string pieces, sent it along to the quartet, and asked them to choose their favorites from the list. Music, food, drinks, check, check, check.

  I made two concessions on the budget. The two items I knew my mother might pitch a fit over. Yes, I ordered the high-end champagne she preferred. And I ordered a four-foot-tall ice sculpture of Minerva, the Greek goddess of medicine. She wanted Minerva on her back patio. Fine. I made it happen. Did a part of me think she’d appreciate those touches that meant a lot to her? Yes. Yes, I did. I was looking forward to seeing the pleasure and pride on her face.

  Three weeks went by fast when you had a million things to accomplish and next to no money to do it with. But I was so set on fixing this for my mother—gah! Fine. Fixing this for me and my mother—that I refused to consider the chance of failure.

  Chapter 23

  Wyatt

  I walked into Gray’s office and threw my ass down in one of the chairs facing his desk.

  “What’s wrong with you?”

  “I failed BS.”

  He raised one eyebrow at me. “That’s because you’re too honest and nice. If you were an asshole like me, you’d do fine shoveling bullshit.”

  “No.” I shook my head and threw one boot up on the edge of Gray’s desk. “BS. Building Systems. I failed the Building Systems part of the ARE. I just got my scores. I fucking failed it.”

  Gray sat back in his chair, one arm resting while he rolled a pen around in his hand. “Refresh my memory, Wyatt. What’s the percentage of people who pass the test in the first try?”

  “Fifty-five percent.” I scowled at him. The percentage didn’t matter to me one bit. Failing mattered. “I invested five hours a day studying for this one. I took practice exams, watched videos, went through three sets of flashcards, and reviewed all my notes. I haven’t gone to the gym in three weeks. What the actual fuck? The only thing I didn’t do was light a candle down at St. Patrick’s and dance naked in the light of a full moon.”

  I saw Gray’s lips twitch before he wisely hid behind his coffee mug. “Is that a thing? Dancing naked in the light of a full moon?”

  “Fuck me, I don’t know. The point I’m making is
I did everything I could to prepare. I should have been ready. I was ready.” Fuck me. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, since I had the feeling it hadn’t gone great the day I walked out of the testing center.

  Gray sat forward, his forearms on his desk. “Except maybe take more time. Why are you in such a damn rush on this?”

  Well, of course he wouldn’t get it. If I asked my brothers what I owed them, they’d all say not one damn thing and mean it. They were wrong. I was aware every single day that my brothers had sacrificed a hell of a lot for me. From the day I was born up until today. Twenty-six fucking years. How does a guy pay someone back for that?

  “I just need to get it done.”

  “Wyatt—”

  “First off, all my professors said getting the certification as close to graduation as possible is a big help. Second, I’m not really rushing it. There are people who take all seven exams in seven days. And fucking pass!”

  Fuck me, I’d just yelled at one of my brothers. I never yelled. At anyone. And never ever at my brothers.

  “Whoa, everything all right in here?” Eli poked his head in Gray’s office.

  “Fucking peachy,” I growled.

  “Wyatt’s upset because he failed the latest section of his licensing exam.”

  Eli entered the room, taking the chair next to me. “That’s normal. It’s rare to pass all the sections. Most people fail at least one or two sections and then retake them.”

  I frowned over at him. “I don’t care what most people do. I did all the right prep. I planned out the best order for the tests: CDS, PPP, SPD, SD, BS, and then finish up with BDCS. That was my plan.”

  “I don’t know what any of that is, but here are a few more letters for you: OCD. Maybe stop obsessing and relax a little.”

  “I’m not obsessing.” I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at their casual attitude.

  “Well, now you’re just pouting,” Eli said. “There’s no pouting at SBC. Thank God we’ve got a cure for it.”