“You must be Trevor,” the blond one said. “I’m Ty Bishop. My fiancée is a friend of Sam’s.”
Trevor took his outstretched hand. “You’re the groom.”
“Right,” Ty agreed.
Trevor’s gaze shifted.
“Ben Haddox,” the dark-haired man offered, shaking Trevor’s hand a little too firmly. “Already married to one of Sam’s friends.”
“You’re on that cooking channel,” Trevor said, realizing where he’d seen Ben Haddox before.
“EatTV,” Ben clarified. “I also run a restaurant in Denver. I told Sam I’d give her some advice on updating the kitchen appliances while she’s remodeling.” He gave Ty a friendly shove. “Gotta make sure I can work my magic for this joker.”
Trevor lifted a brow. “You’re cooking for the wedding?”
“I told him he should enjoy himself as a guest,” Ty said.
“And let some two-bit chef serve rubber chicken and gloppy rice at your reception? Not a chance.”
“Doesn’t hurt that it gets you out of listening to the women talk wedding plans.”
Ben flashed a quick smile. “I’ve done my part to make Kendall happy.”
“How’s it going here?” Ty asked.
Trevor glanced around the kitchen, which still looked more destroyed than remodeled. “I’ll have it ready.”
Ty moved around him, running a hand along the newly installed drywall. “You doing everything yourself or do you have a crew?”
“I’m hiring out certain pieces, like the roof and electrical. Most subcontractors in the area are booked after the storm and with the spring construction season picking up steam. I’ll only hire a guy if I know he’s good at what he does. Otherwise, I’ll take care of it myself.”
“If you need an extra hand,” Ty told him, “let me know, and I can clear my schedule.”
“You have experience in construction?”
“I did some work with a crew during summers back in college.” Ty crossed his arms over his chest. “I had a landscaping company for years, so I’ve been around building sites a lot. Now I work in conservation, but there’s some flexibility in my schedule.”
“You want to spend your free time doing labor up here?”
Ty shrugged. “I want my bride to be happy, and Sam’s been a good friend to both of us. This place means a lot to her.”
“My niece, Claire, met your daughter the other day,” Ben said casually. He’d stepped to the other side of the island to check out the refrigerator and oven that Trevor had pushed against the far wall. “Grace, right?”
“Yep,” Trevor answered. He had a clue where this friendly visit was going now.
“Claire liked her a lot.” Ben opened the oven door and bent to examine the inside, using his phone flashlight to illuminate the dark space. “She said that Grace and Sam are hitting it off.”
“They’re doing fine.”
“It’s a shame it took so long for the two of them to connect.” He shut the oven with a bang and turned. “Know what I mean?”
Had Trevor thought the famous—infamous in all fairness—chef was the sophisticated one in this pair? Now he could see clearly that under Ben’s tailored clothes and expensive watch beat the heart of a true brawler. Ty, on the other hand, seemed almost uncomfortable at his friend’s veiled innuendo.
“If you’ve got something to say,” Trevor answered, looking between the two of them, “don’t beat around the bush. Sam’s girlfriends were certainly willing to lay it all out there.” He paused then added, “Actually, Kendall and Chloe weren’t the ones to give me the most grief. That prize went to—”
“Let me guess,” Ty interrupted. “Jenny was with them?”
Ben chuckled. “Sorry, man. Chloe forgot to mention that. If Jen got to you already, we didn’t even need to make the trip.”
“Except Kendall and Chloe said we had to,” Ty added a little sheepishly.
“You always let your wives and soon-to-be wives order you around?”
The men glanced at each other and then both laughed hysterically. “It’s easier that way,” Ty said when he straightened again.
“Are you going to behave with Sam?” Ben’s voice was deceptively friendly.
Trevor narrowed his eyes. “Exactly what do you mean by behave?”
Ty shook his head. “Shit, Ben. They’re together already.”
Ben let out a string of creative curses. “Let’s cut to the chase. Do I need to kick your ass?”
Trevor’s mouth curved despite himself. He should have been angry at both the implied accusation and the outright threat. Instead he liked having more evidence that Sam had a strong support system. The woman thought entirely too little of herself, so it seemed even more important that her friends had her back. Her friends and their misguided men.
“Where’s your third musketeer?” he asked instead of answering.
Both men appeared confused by the question.
“Doesn’t the redhead have a knight in shining armor to come after me as well?”
Ty grimaced. “Not exactly, and the guy Jenny would send in here is more likely to ruin you financially than anything else.”
“You’ve heard of Owen Dalton?” Ben asked.
“The techie genius?” Trevor whistled. “Of course I have. Everyone’s heard of Dalton Enterprises. That’s who Jenny’s involved with?”
“Was,” Ty clarified. “She sort of—”
“Seriously?” Sam came charging into the room, her expression a combination of disbelief and disgust. “David told me you two had come this way looking like two of the four horsemen of the apocalypse.”
Trevor thought about her friends as Macbeth’s witches and had to stifle a laugh. Apparently not well enough because Sam leveled a look at him.
“Dude, shut it,” Ty muttered.
“Not cool,” Ben added.
“What’s not cool,” Sam said, making exaggerated air quotes on either side of her head, “is Kendall and Chloe sending you here to fight my battles.”
Trevor threw up his hands. “What battle? There’s no battle.”
Ben glanced at him. “So I don’t need to kick your ass?”
“You’re welcome to try,” Trevor shot back. “Unless you need your face pretty for the cameras.”
“He’s on hiatus,” Ty offered helpfully.
“Enough,” Sam said. “All three of you can put your little saucy dangles away. Mini-sword play is done for the day.”
“Little,” Trevor sputtered.
Ben scoffed. “Mini, my ass.”
“What the hell is a saucy dangle?” Ty asked, wide-eyed.
“Go ask your fiancée,” Sam told him. “While you’re at it, tell her thank you, but I can manage my life just fine.”
“I’m here for the appliances,” Ben told her, a clearly placating smile plastered across his face.
Trevor leaned closer to him. “What about the ass kicking?”
“I think you’re good.”
Trevor didn’t need either of these men’s approval, so the softening in his chest felt strange, yet somehow right.
Obviously not to Sam. She let out a frustrated growl. “You know what, have it out for all I care. I don’t have time for any of this stupid . . . testosterone.” She hissed the last word then turned on her heel and stalked out of the room.
There was silence for several seconds then Trevor chuckled. “You two think I’m in trouble. You’re dead men walking.”
“I’m stopping for flowers on the way home,” Ty answered immediately.
Ben nodded. “I’ll do chocolate.”
They glanced at Trevor. “I’m about to start ripping up the floor,” he said, gesturing to Ty. “So you can get married here.”
Ty nodded and began to roll up his sleeves. “Tell me where to start.”
“I like how you think,” Ben said and pocketed his watch. “Let’s get to work, Kincaid.”
“I’m getting to work,” Trevor told the two. “My remodel. M
y ticket out of the doghouse.”
“Let’s face it, we’re in the pound and it’s all or none getting out.”
Trevor ran a hand over his jaw but threw each of them a pair of gloves. “We’ll see who gets his ass kicked today.”
All three of them were tired and sweaty by the time Ben and Ty drove away in Ty’s black truck two hours later. They’d worked in silence for the first hour but eventually they’d started talking, mostly about sports and the best mountain bike routes in different parts of the state. Then Ben had mentioned his frustration with his niece and her sudden interest in a certain boy at school. Trevor had shared his experience with Grace and how he grounded her from social media for Snapchatting a boy in her class.
Trevor had friends he worked with and parents he knew from Grace’s school, but he’d never felt comfortable sharing the trials and tribulations of raising a teenage girl with any of them. Grace had changed so much since his grandmother’s death and he sometimes felt like the biggest idiot on the planet trying to read her moods and decipher the subtle variations in her vast vocabulary of eye rolls.
It was good to know he wasn’t the only idiot parent out there. He found out Ben was actually raising Claire and her brother, Austin, because his brother was in prison. The celebrity chef, as famous for his temper as for his skills in the kitchen, had changed his entire life to take care of his two young charges.
Although he was reluctant to discuss it, according to Ben, Ty had walked away from a wealthy and powerful family because of his father’s corrupt business dealings, eventually exposing him in order to save the heart of a community south of Denver.
Sam had good people who cared about her. Trevor had to admit he was quickly coming to respect her friends.
That’s what he intended to tell her as he made his way up the path to the office. The door was partially open and he knocked at the same time he peeked in. She was seated at her desk but didn’t turn around even when he called her name twice. He walked forward and saw her head was bent in her hands, her shoulders trembling.
He was on his knees at her side in an instant, turning her chair to face him. Her fingers were soaked with tears and she seemed not to realize he was there.
“Sweetheart,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. The guys and I didn’t fight. You put us in our place. You must be epic at taking care of rowdy kids during the summer.”
Her answer was a sob that racked her body and made his heart clench. “I don’t take care of them,” she whispered, her voice a miserable whimper. “I can’t take care of anyone. I fail them all.”
The hair on the back of Trevor’s neck stood on end at the devastation in her tone. “Sam, look at me.” He pried her hands away from her tearstained cheeks. Her eyes were red, swollen, and full of sorrow as she gazed at him. “Tell me what happened.”
She bit down on her lip and closed her eyes.
“Talk to me,” he murmured. “Please.”
“She died. I couldn’t save her, Trevor. Just like Bryce. I couldn’t save her.”
Sam tried to pull away. She felt nauseated one moment and empty the next. It felt like she was floating above where she sat, watching Trevor hold her hands, rubbing them gently as if to bring her back to life.
No one could help her, just like she hadn’t been able to help the girl who’d come to Bryce Hollow desperate for a second chance. She hadn’t felt this way since Bryce died.
She’d been in Paris at the time, preparing for a photo shoot with a world-famous photographer for a magazine cover in Europe. A distant relative had called to give her the news of her sister’s death, raging at Sam for not doing more to save Bryce from the demons that plagued her. As much as Sam hated to admit it, the call hadn’t been a total surprise.
The bond that connected her to Bryce had been strong even through their estrangement. Sam had woken in the wee hours the previous night, heart hammering and a splitting pain radiating from her chest throughout her entire body.
She’d tried to get to the bathroom but her legs had crumpled under her and she’d ended up on the floor of the small flat she’d shared with three other models. They’d wanted to take her to the emergency room but she’d refused, knowing her symptoms had something to do with Bryce. At the time she’d assumed her twin had gotten into some particularly bad trouble. But as soon as she heard the voice on the other end of the line . . . she knew.
Today’s phone call had been a shock and made her question everything she’d been trying to do for the past five years.
“Did you know that fifty percent of twins die within two years of their sibling?”
“Sam.”
“After Bryce’s funeral, it was like I became her. It was a delusion but the only way I knew to keep her with me. I hadn’t just lost a sister, Trevor. I lost me. The power of her memory was so strong, I saw my sister when I looked in the mirror. The irony was that I made my living by having my picture taken, and every one of them was a reminder of Bryce. I mimicked her downward spiral of self-destruction because it seemed like the only way I could keep her. Her ghost became my constant companion.”
Trevor was still holding her hands and she looked at where their fingers were linked and tried to let the warmth of his skin seep into hers. But it was like there was a barrier around her. She was sealed off from everything, cocooned in her own misery.
“I wanted to die,” she admitted. “Just so that I’d have the chance to be with her again. I’d pulled away from her in life, but I couldn’t let go of her in death. Not until I returned to Colorado. I realized my life was mine, just as Bryce’s death belonged to her. This place gave me hope when I had none. But now—”
He gave her a small shake. “Sam, who died?”
She drew in a shuddery breath. “One of my campers. Whitney came here the past three summers. She was a great kid, smart and funny and . . . God, how she loved Frank. She wanted to be a vet. Such a classic dream for an animal lover, right?”
“What happened?”
She still couldn’t imagine what had gone so wrong with that beautiful girl. “She was with a boy she’d met here. They were both from Houston. A lot of our campers come from big cities. That’s part of the mission of the camp, exposing the kids to things they wouldn’t see in their daily life. Whitney and Brandon were sixteen. They each came from difficult backgrounds. Whitney’s mom killed her father during an argument, and she’s been living with her grandma the past seven years.” She took another breath as the words poured out of her. “The grandma had a stroke just before that and I think the caregiving was a lot to take on for a young girl. Brandon is the youngest of six siblings, a mix of full, half, and step. Two of his older brothers are in jail for gang-related crimes, and we were working with social services in the Houston area to try to make sure he didn’t follow that path.”
“But he did?” Trevor prompted when she paused.
“A little here and there. I thought we had a breakthrough last summer.” She let out a humorless laugh. “I thought Whitney was part of the breakthrough. They were inseparable. We monitored it, counseled both of them to take things slow.”
“Teenagers love to take things slow,” Trevor said dryly.
“It seemed almost innocent. They were such good friends. Whitney smoothed out his rough edges and he was a support for her, someone she could have fun with when so much of her life was serious.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I should have forced them to put the brakes on it. I didn’t realize . . .”
“Was there an accident?”
She drew in another breath and forced herself to meet his gaze. “She overdosed at a party she went to with Brandon. According to the social worker that called me, it was ecstasy but I don’t have any details. I called Whitney’s grandma but she’s not answering. I can’t get a hold of Brandon. I’m flying down to Houston for the funeral. This never should have happened. Kids like Whitney are the reason I created Bryce Hollow, to give them the tools to make the right choices and—”
She bolted o
ut of the chair, knocking Trevor back, and moved to the edge of the room. She couldn’t sit still a moment longer with the guilt and frustration clawing at her insides. She lifted her fingers to touch one of the framed photos hanging on the wall. At the end of each session, she took a picture of the campers and staff in front of the lake. She searched the photo until she found Whitney’s smiling face, Brandon standing next to her, his arm draped casually around her shoulders.
Sam was devoted to all the kids who attended Bryce Hollow, but there were certain ones who were special to her. Whitney had been one of those.
Had been.
She yanked the frame from the wall and hurled it against the door. Glass shattered as the picture crashed to the floor. When Trevor’s arms snaked around her, she fought him, refusing to take any comfort in the face of her failure. Her continual failure.
He didn’t let go, stayed with her as she thrashed and flailed. Eventually the fight drained out of her. Her anger faded as grief engulfed her. She would have slumped to the rug if he wasn’t holding her.
“You need to leave,” she whispered, her throat raw and scratchy.
“You can’t be alone right now,” he said against her ear.
“I mean for good.” Her head dropped forward, resting against his arm, her blond hair shielding her face from his view. “I’ll find someone else to finish the work here. You have to keep Grace away from me.”
His arms tightened. “Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” She turned in his arms and forced herself to meet his gaze. “You were right. The women in my family are cursed. We hurt the people we care about.”
“That girl’s death is not your fault,” he insisted.
“It is. Just like Bryce’s was.”
“You can’t save all of them.”
“What if I can’t save any of them?” she asked, hearing the note of hysteria in her own voice. “I thought I was helping Whitney by bringing her here, but this is where she met Brandon. If they hadn’t—”
“You don’t know that.” Trevor brought one hand to her face, swiping his thumb over her cheek.
“I do,” she said, pounding her knuckles against her chest. “In here I do. Grace is amazing. She’s perfect and I’ll ruin her like I ruin everything.”
Tell Me Again Page 13