Adele’s brain felt like it was going to explode. “Maybe neither of them likes me.”
Cilla patted her on the arm. “Then you’ll find someone else. Now. Enough moping. Let’s pick a dress, shall we?”
“Yes. I’m sorry for all my drama.”
“I love drama. Other people’s drama. Then I don’t need any of my own.”
Adele’s phone rang as Cilla handed her the tablet once more. “I need to get this. Kat?”
“Hey, Adele. I wanted to let you know, um, about a problem.”
The last thing she needed today was another problem. Not when her emotional state felt like it was held in a delicate balance. Her chest tightened. “Tell me.”
“So, I was deleting and blocking trolls and comments. But I had to block someone else.”
“Okay …”
Kat cleared her throat. “He was engaging with all the trolls. Arguing, defending you. Nice stuff, really. Except it was basically starting these giant fights in all the comments.”
Adele relaxed. “That’s fine. I mean, how nice, but I don’t want someone doing that in all the comments. Blocking them is fine. Thank you. But you don’t need to call me about this.”
There was a pause. When Kat spoke, Adele could have sworn she heard a smile in her voice. “It was Elton.”
Adele ground her teeth together. “I’ll deal with it.”
Chapter Fourteen
Elton
Elton changed his clothes five times before finally settling on dark wash jeans and a gray polo. Casual, but church-ish, right? He honestly wasn’t sure.
It had been at least a year since Elton had set foot in a church. Not for any kind of big, rebellious reason. It was more of a slow fade that started with his parents’ deaths. They had been so young. Such good people. They’d been at church every week for his whole life, barring some kind of illness. That felt a little like an insult. Why sit in a pew when God might just take you any old time?
The thought of going made him nervous. But Adele had asked him. She had even gone so far as to talk to Ben and make sure permission was granted for him to leave the farm. Without asking Elton if he even wanted to go to church, of course.
He could only go straight there and back, but it was something. Elton couldn’t deny the itchy feeling being stuck on the farm gave him. He might not want to go to church. But he wanted to leave the property. And he wanted to sit next to Adele.
Maybe he would hear something that would help him make sense of his parents’ senseless deaths. Probably not. God would have to do a lot to make up for that. But he would at least be open to the possibility.
He stuck his head out of his bedroom door. Easton was just coming out of the bathroom, tucking in his plaid button-down shirt. “Am I supposed to wear a tie?” Elton asked.
“I think it’s informal. We’re meeting in a gym.”
“So, this is fine?” Elton stepped out in the hallway. Normally, he’d wear boots, but because of the ankle monitor, he had to wear sneakers.
A slow smile crossed Easton’s face. “I’m not sure. Do a spin for me so I can see the full outfit.”
“Shut up. I’m serious. Is this okay?”
“I don’t think God cares. You could shave, though.”
Elton would not shave. This small thing felt like standing his ground somehow. I’m coming to church, God. But I won’t shave for it. Silly. But it felt oddly important to him to hold on to this tiny rebellion.
“Hey, did you see Cilla’s message?”
He had. Cilla had texted them both that morning, asking if they could look for something of their mother’s that she could wear in the wedding. Something blue. That meant heading into the attic, a place both brothers had avoided since the day they had packed up their parents’ bedroom.
“You want to look? Or me?”
Easton shrugged.
Sighing, Elton walked to the middle of the hallway and pulled the folding ladder down. The ladder had seen better days. Elton leaned on it with most of his weight, listening to it creak. It certainly sounded about as healthy as it looked, but it did not break. Not yet, anyway.
“Are you going up or not?” Easton asked.
“I’m going up. Just … give me a sec.”
Rolling his eyes, Easton started to shove Elton out of the way. Elton held up a hand. “Alright. Alright! I got this.” He made the sign of the cross over his chest. At least, he thought it was the sign of the cross. He’d grown up Baptist, not Catholic, and only seen it in movies. “Here goes nothing.”
“Don’t worry, brother. I’ll catch you if you fall,” Easton said in a too-sweet voice.
Elton ignored him and put both feet on the lowest rung, bracing himself for splintering wood. When the first step held, Elton made the climb cautiously, expecting the ladder to break all the way until he reached the top.
The attic smelled like the pages of an old book. A scent somehow warm and familiar, as though the very air he breathed contained memories. It would have been a comforting smell, except that Elton didn’t want to confront his memories.
He found the string for the lights and gave it a good yank. Only half the bulbs worked. Deep shadows pooled in the eaves and cobwebs dusted the beams overhead.
“What should I look for again?”
“How should I know! Anything blue that a bride could wear. A scarf or pin or earrings or something? This is not my area of expertise.”
“Mine either,” Elton muttered.
He bypassed the large moving boxes right by the entrance. Those were the contents of his parents’ closets. Something in there would probably work, but his eye had been drawn to a bulky shape just beyond it. His mother’s hope chest. Elton had to duck his head to avoid the low-hanging beams. The last thing he needed was another concussion. Or spiders in his hair. Between the two, a concussion sounded better.
“If you don’t need me, I’m going downstairs to get coffee.” Easton’s voice sounded distant, muffled now that Elton had gone deeper into the attic space.
“If I fall and die on the way down, I’m going to haunt you!”
“What?”
“Nothing!”
The chest was simple wood with a cherry stain. Easton could probably identify the exact kind of wood, but that wasn’t in Elton’s wheelhouse. He ran a palm over the lid, leaving a track in the layer of dust. Kneeling, he blew on it, but it only made a small cloud stir up into the air. He sneezed.
The lock on the front wasn’t engaged, and when Elton lifted the lid, it opened smoothly, as though the hinges had been recently oiled.
It took a few minutes for his eyes to make out the contents in the dim light. In that time, his heart started hammering away behind his ribs. His mouth went completely dry while he had to wipe his sweaty palms on his jeans.
Licking his lips, Elton sat for a few moments, staring inside. He hadn’t felt his mother’s presence so strongly since her death as he did in this moment. The smell of cedar wafted out, which disappointed him. That was from the chest. He had kind of hoped he could smell a hint of his mother, the heady scent of magnolia blossoms, hanging heavy on the tree.
“Hey, Mama.” His voice cracked. “It’s been a while.”
He knew there wouldn’t be an answer. It’s not like he believed in ghosts. He absolutely knew his mother would be in heaven but his understanding of what that looked like was limited to elementary school Sunday school lessons. He liked the idea of her watching over them.
Or did he?
A twisty feeling coiled around in his gut. It wasn’t the first time he had wondered what his mama would think about how he’d been doing in her absence. He had no job. He was a convicted felon. He hadn’t settled down with a good woman, though his sights were set on one.
As that sick feeling expanded like a shadow under his skin, Elton’s thoughts turned dark. He didn’t deserve someone like Adele. Not that she was by any means perfect, but she was a good girl. While Elton had lived his life on the surface. Shallow dates with
vapid women. A life with no real accomplishments. Nothing to his name that he could point to and say he had done.
Easton, on the other hand, had nothing but accomplishments. He literally built things with his hands. Beautiful, sturdy furniture. He had built the ramp for Cilla. Last month he had built a pergola for their friend Amy, now married to Sy, another friend and former teammate.
Let’s face it—I peaked in high school.
Elton couldn’t bring himself to reach into the hope chest. His mother had told him all her hopes had come true. Elton had so few real hopes. Adele was it. And what was his plan there? To marry her and then live in the farmhouse with Easton?
“You alive up here?”
Speak of the devil. Elton slammed the hope chest shut and stood, knocking his head into a beam just as Easton scaled the top of the ladder.
Groaning, Elton rubbed the back of his head where a lump was forming. No blood though. That was a plus.
“You alright there?” Easton asked. “What are you even doing in the corner? All the boxes are right here.”
“Got distracted,” Elton said.
“Here we go,” Easton said, ripping away the tape from the top of a box. The sound pierced Elton’s heart. “I remember packing this one.” He pulled a dark blue velvet box and held it in his hands.
For a long moment, they stared at the box together, neither making a move to open it. Finally, Easton said, “How about we give this to Cilla and see if she finds something inside. If not, we can come back up?”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Easton nodded, then turned for the stairs. “We can give it to Adele this morning, and she’ll pass it on. Don’t forget the lights. And watch your head this time.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Easton had his feet on the second rung of the ladder when Elton called to him. “Hang on, E.”
Easton paused, the jewelry box resting on the floor of the attic, curled into his fingers. “Yeah?”
“Do you like Adele?”
Easton’s body shifted slightly, as though all his muscles tightened at the same time. Anyone but Elton would have missed it, he bet.
“Don’t you like her?” Easton asked.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Adele is a great girl.”
Elton shook his head. “Also not what I asked, brother.”
Blowing out a breath, Easton met his gaze. “Okay. Fine. Adele is gorgeous. She’s kind, and she’s always been there for us. I haven’t ever given myself room to really think about her in the way you’re asking.”
“Because you knew that I liked her.”
Easton nodded.
Elton felt his shoulders start to slump. “But you would have asked her out if it weren’t for me?”
“Yeah. I probably would have.”
Easton did like Adele. Or, at least was interested in her. Even though Elton had been the one to start this whole conversation, he had trouble even breathing at the thought that Easton might return Adele’s affection. That opening this door might mean Easton actually walked through it. But Easton was a good guy. The best. Isn’t that what Adele deserved?
“You should give yourself room to think about it. About her.” Elton swallowed before he said the next part. It took a strength he didn’t know until that moment he possessed. “I think she likes you. If you like her, go for it.”
Easton studied him, as though searching for the truth behind the words. As much as they killed Elton to say out loud, they were true. He did mean them. Even as he also hated the truth of them.
Wasn’t that love—wanting the best for someone, even if it was the worst for you?
The realization felt like an anvil, settling on top of his heart with its weight. Elton had known that his feelings were more than a crush. More than like. More than simple attraction. But until this moment, he had not fully understood that he loved her. Elton loved Adele.
And he had just let her go.
“Okay.” Nodding, Easton disappeared down the ladder.
What did that mean? Is he going to go for it? Or not? Church this morning sure would be awkward. Elton tried not to think about his brother and Adele. But maybe he needed to get used to the idea. Now that Elton had the whole love realization, that might be impossible.
Sighing, he climbed down the ladder, almost disappointed that it didn’t splinter and send a piece of wood through his heart. That might have been an improvement to its current state.
Downstairs, he poured himself a cup of coffee, staring out at the end of the driveway. His eyes fell on the wooden alligator mailbox. It needed a fresh coat of paint but had held up through the years. His father had built it in the old woodshop. Easton had been the one to pick up that skill and had expanded the shop when they built the back barn. His dad would have loved it. He would have loved everything Easton was doing, actually: building, still riding horses, not getting arrested and convicted of felonies.
Adele’s car turned into the drive just as Easton joined him in the kitchen. Elton watched the cloud of dust kicking up behind the car, feeling his heart sink deeper as she approached.
“I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something,” Easton said, dragging Elton’s attention away from the window.
What now? Hadn’t they filled their quota for hard things that morning?
Elton crossed his arms, leaning back against the sink. “That’s never a good start to a conversation.”
Easton grimaced. “I agreed to be the caretaker at Pax and Cilla’s farm.”
It took Elton’s brain a moment to catch up. “The emu farm?”
“That’s the one.”
“Okay. Sounds like fun. Taking care of big, stinky birds.” Elton turned back to the sink as he heard Adele’s car door slam outside. He rinsed his coffee mug and set it on the counter. His hands felt unsteady, and he clasped them together, squeezing his own fingers.
“I’ll be living there. There are cows as well, and a barn for my horses. Depending on which team gets Pax, or how long he wants to play, it may be a few years.”
Elton, for once, had no words. He turned around, searching his brother’s face. Easton’s eyes were apologetic, and maybe a little sad.
This was no small thing. Most brothers weren’t as close as he and Easton were. Many twins didn’t have the kind of connection or tie that the two of them used to have. And even though they both seemed to draw into themselves more after losing their parents, in an unspoken way, their bond deepened. They didn’t acknowledge the depth of their pain. They didn’t need to.
Maybe it wasn’t his right to be angry, but Elton was angry anyway. How much of that anger was related to Adele? He ran a hand over his jaw. Easton had been right. This scruff was almost getting to be a beard. He should have shaved.
The screen door slammed open and Adele blew in like a hurricane, yelling like a banshee. “Elton Josiah Boyd!” Her finger poked him in the chest, hard.
Why did he find it so adorable when she was angry? He needed to stop that though. If he was truly wanting to give his brother a shot. He had to back away. Gracefully. At least publicly. Privately? He doubted that there would be anything gracious about it. He already felt like he was falling apart.
“Good morning, Adele. To what do I owe the pleasure of your fury?”
Easton snorted, then walked outside, their mother’s jewelry box in hand. “I’ll be in the car.”
“Didn’t I tell you that I could stand up for myself?”
“I think you’re illustrating that point right now, doll.”
“Don’t you doll me, Elton.”
Elton tried to catch her hand, which was still poking him in the chest. “Why don’t you explain what I did to incur your wrath so early in the morning?”
She stepped away, her eyes narrowing on him. “Instagram,” she hissed.
Oh. That. She’s angry with me over that?
The night before, Elton had been thinking about Adele. Missing her, if he was being honest. Feeling sorry for himself. His l
ife was so lonely now that the only times he really enjoyed were when she was around. Other than his brother, Cilla, and the lawyer he loved to loathe, his life had become pretty solitary. It didn’t suit him. He was bored. Alone. Restless.
He set up an Instagram account, something he never would have done had it not been for a woman. It really was true that people did stupid things for love.
And he got even stupider.
When he saw some of the comments on Adele’s photos—which were gorgeous—Elton saw red. Mostly comments about her weight, but even some being mean about the fact that she was taking photographs at all. Mean, hurtful things. And then there were the demeaning comments. The ones that said too much. Commenting on her breasts, her legs, her body. Making the photos and poses seem cheap, even though they weren’t.
Elton had never known the kind of rage that overtook him. He thought he might explode from it.
So, Elton did something about it. With a red haze in his head, he responded to every single hater and troll on every single profile. Then he went to some of their profiles and left comments on their photos.
“Let’s see how they like that,” he’d muttered to himself. When he finally went to bed, it was with a satisfied smile. No one talked to his girl that way. Even if she wasn’t technically his. Yet.
“Shouldn’t you be thanking me? Not yelling at me?”
“You don’t feed the trolls, Elton!”
“I don’t even know what that means, Adele!”
Maybe it was the leftover emotion after his conversation with Easton, or maybe it was the fact that he felt completely unappreciated, but now Elton was yelling right back.
“It means that you made my job harder. I don’t engage with the haters. I just delete them. Block them. Move on.” She waved a hand.
“But the things they were saying—”
“Do not matter. Not in the slightest. But either way, it was not your job to do that. I’ve hired Kat to delete them. It’s her job. I don’t need you sticking your nose in. I can handle myself.”
Winning the Cowboy Page 12