If for Any Reason

by Courtney Walsh

  The only problem was, he had a feeling that if he started digging, he wasn’t going to like what he found.

  CHAPTER 38

  EMILY WATCHED HER GRANDMOTHER exchange a tense look with Hollis before heading out for another morning of shopping with an old friend.

  “What on earth was that about?” she asked, expecting Hollis to tell her how pushy her grandmother was.

  Instead, he half laughed and waved a hand in the air dismissively. “She was asking about the crew, the kind of job they’re doing, that sort of thing.”

  Emily groaned. “She doesn’t think I can handle this job. She’s checking up on me. That’s probably why she’s here.”

  Hollis flashed her a smile. “What do you expect? She’s used to calling all the shots.”

  Jack poked his head in from the hallway. “We’re good on paint colors for the bedrooms, right?”

  Emily spun around. “Oh, there you are! I got you coffee.” She’d gone looking for him but ended up dropping the donuts with his crew chief, a younger guy named Marcus.

  Jack moved a few steps in, took the cup from her, inhaled, and drank. “How’d you know I needed this today?”

  “I’m just that good.” She grinned.

  He left, and she turned to find Hollis wearing a scowl. An actual scowl. Had everyone gone mad overnight? “Whoa,” she said. “What is that look for?”

  Hollis shifted, changing his expression. “No coffee for me?”

  She tilted her head to the side and drank him in. He looked exquisite this morning in a pair of jeans, work boots, and a blue T-shirt with the Colorado flag on it.

  “You feeling left out?” she mocked.

  His smile made her heart sputter.

  “Of course I got you coffee.” She handed over a cup, and when he took it, his fingers brushed over hers for a brief second, sending a shiver straight down her spine.

  Oh, please, she thought. Get a grip. You sound like one of those stupid girls who live for a look or a word or a touch from a good-looking guy. That is not who you are, Emily Ackerman.

  Although . . . what she wouldn’t give for a look, a word, or another touch from Hollis McGuire. . . .

  This was not good. If he’d never made that speech about wanting a simple life—with kids and Little League and a picket fence—she’d be perfectly fine right now.

  But he had made that speech. And many more just like it. And those speeches kept her awake at night, daydreaming about the possibility of throwing caution to the wind.

  Because as much as she didn’t want to admit it, it spoke to the deepest part of her soul. It made her think—as impractical as it was—that she might want those things too. And she’d never wanted those things, not really. At least not in the aching sort of way she wanted them now.

  “No donut?” he asked after taking a sip.

  She smacked his arm. “You’re the worst.”

  Their familiarity had grown. In some ways, it was just like old times. But every now and then, she’d catch him looking at her—at rehearsal as he worked or on the beach during one of their late-night chats—and nothing felt like old times.

  It felt new and fresh and exciting.

  And scary.

  She’d spent the better part of the summer with Hollis and Jolie and the rest of their family, and she was feeling more and more like a person who belonged.

  It sometimes startled her, the depth with which she felt it. She loved them. Not just Hollis, but all of them.

  How would she ever leave Nantucket now? Now that she knew how this felt, the pain of letting it go would break her heart.

  He smiled. “You look lost.”

  She pushed the thoughts away and found his eyes, ever intent and kind and laser-focused on her. “No,” she said. “I’m anything but that.”

  Forty-eight hours had passed since Hollis’s uncomfortable conversation with Eliza. He’d spent most of that time avoiding the topic, thankful that Emily seemed to forget the awkward exchange completely. She had other things on her mind: namely, the show.

  He spent as much time as possible at the theatre, and he was about 95 percent sure he’d fallen completely in love with Emily.

  Exactly what he’d promised JoJo he wouldn’t do.

  He’d done a good job so far of keeping his feelings to himself, but that had gotten more difficult as the days went on.

  Twice that day during rehearsal he’d nearly hurt himself working on the set (once with a chop saw and once with a nail gun) because he’d gotten distracted by something Emily was doing.

  Or maybe he’d just gotten distracted by Emily. Her hair. Her eyes. Her smile. Her easy way of drawing people in. She’d always thrived as the center of attention, and now, seeing how the kids gravitated to her . . . well, it was hard not to be completely mesmerized.

  Did she see it yet? She was a natural at this. The way she welcomed the kids, the way she made sure no one ate lunch alone, even the way she sat with them through meals, listening to their crazy stories and answering all their questions about Broadway and acting and traveling the world.

  Whether she knew it or not, he wasn’t the only one who’d fallen head over heels for her.

  And if he had to guess, she’d fallen for those kids, too.

  He and Jolie walked into the rehearsal space, and his daughter took off toward a group of girls about her age. She’d made fast friends with Alyssa, the girl playing the Caterpillar, and the two had been nearly inseparable since rehearsals began. It was exactly what Hollis had prayed for—that his daughter would find her place here, that she would fall in love with Nantucket. If that all happened, then maybe she’d even realize she loved him a little bit too.

  “Hollis!”

  He turned toward Emily’s voice and found her rushing toward him, panic on her face. “What’s wrong?”

  “I forgot my script at home, and I can’t leave. We need to get started, but all my blocking is written in that script.”

  “I’ll run and get it. Just tell me where it is.”

  “It’s a blue binder in my room.” She stumbled over her words. “The guest room. The one at the very back of the house.”

  She was sleeping in the guest room?

  “I’m guessing on the desk in the corner or maybe on the bed.”

  “Okay. Will you be all right without it at the start?”

  “Yes. We have a few other things we need to do before we jump in, and I can play a game or two.”

  “I’ll hurry,” he said, heading toward the door.

  “Hollis?” she called out.

  He turned to face her.

  “Thanks.”

  The you-just-saved-me expression on her face was one he’d tuck inside his pocket and save for a rainy day. The way it felt to help her, to do any small thing to make her day better—yep, he was a goner.

  He raced down to the parking lot, hopped in his Jeep, and sped back to Emily’s house. When he arrived, he saw the crew dispersed around the yard.

  He walked up the stairs to the porch and in the front door, not bothering to knock because Eliza’s car was gone and no one else would pay attention. He went straight upstairs, down the hallway, and pushed open the door to the guest room.

  Instantly, he was struck by her unmistakable scent—vanilla with something else mixed in. Coconut, maybe? He’d inhaled it enough times to recognize it immediately. He couldn’t pinpoint when it had happened—the moment he crossed out of his safe “friend zone” and began entertaining other thoughts about Emily. It was almost as if he’d been unaware it was happening at all. Or maybe he’d simply been in denial. Because he was pretty sure it started the moment he thought he spotted her getting off the ferry her first day back.

  Now here he was, standing in her bedroom, ignoring what she sent him here to do and picturing the way she spent her nights. Did she sleep all under the covers or did she leave one leg out? Did she close the curtains or let the moonlight fill the room? Did she get lonely or sad or have trouble falling asleep?
r />   He wanted to know these things—all of them.

  “Hollis?”

  He turned and found Jack standing in the doorway of the guest room.

  “Do you need something?”

  The way Jack asked the question, as if he were the one who could help him, bothered Hollis. “Uh, no. Emily needs something.”

  Hollis glanced down and saw the turquoise binder on the end of Emily’s unmade bed. A binder he could’ve grabbed without lingering over the way the room looked and smelled.

  He picked it up.

  “Just making sure,” Jack said. “Do you have a second? Thought I’d show you the progress they made in the backyard. I have a feeling she’s not going to want to sell this place once we’re done.”

  It was too much to hope for. Hollis was pretty sure nothing was going to change her mind on the house.

  “Sure,” he said, though he really didn’t have a minute. Emily needed him back.

  And yet, this could be the in with Jack he’d been waiting for. He followed the man down the stairs, through the house, and out back. As expected, the crew had done a stellar job with the landscaping. The flagstone patio was only one of an endless number of things they’d done in the yard. They’d added sprays of colorful flowers and bushes and giant pots of greenery that would likely blossom later in the season. They’d trimmed trees, pulled more weeds, added mulch—basically, they’d made everything presentable again.

  Even Gladys Middlebury would approve.

  “Think she’ll like it?” Jack asked. He was staring out across the yard, and Hollis took a moment to study Jack’s profile. The curve of his nose, the high cheekbones, even the skin tone was remarkably similar—why had he never seen it before? The resemblance was unmistakable.

  Jack looked at him, expectancy on his face, and only then did Hollis realize he hadn’t answered the man’s question.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I think she’ll love it. You guys did a great job.”

  “Well, thanks for your help with it,” Jack said.

  “What were you doing looking around in Isabelle’s room that day?” Hollis asked.

  Jack went back to staring at the yard.

  “I heard you and Eliza talking last week,” Hollis said. “She doesn’t like you—why?”

  “It’s a long story,” Jack said, facing him.

  “Do you have any intention of telling Emily that story? Don’t you think she deserves the truth?”

  “The truth about what?”

  “About who you are,” Hollis said.

  Jack turned away.

  “I’ve been trying to figure out your game this whole time.”

  “My game?”

  “Yeah. Something never added up. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before. How Eliza can’t stand to have you around, how you seem to know the family as more than just someone who caddied for Alan back in the day, how you sort of look like Emily—the parts of her that don’t look like her mom. It’s been staring me in the face this whole time.”

  Jack dragged a hand over his face, the whiskers of his unshaven chin scratching against it. “I’m going to tell her. I just . . . I don’t know how she’ll react.”

  Hollis could feel his stomach twist into a tight ball. “Oh, you don’t know how she’ll react to meeting the father who never wanted her? Do you know her mom left her a letter basically warning her to never fall in love because you good and broke her heart like you did?”

  Jack sighed. “There’s a lot to this that you don’t understand.”

  “I have a daughter,” Hollis said. “I understand.”

  Regret rolled around inside his belly. He had a daughter he’d basically abandoned—did he have any right to lecture this guy for making the same mistakes he’d made?

  “Then you know how important it is that I get this right,” Jack said. “I came here because Alan asked me to. And because I finally felt like I could.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “Isabelle’s dad sent me a letter,” Jack said. “Or I guess his lawyer did—after Alan died. In it, he told me he was leaving her the house and to keep checking on it because he knew she’d come back here.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” Jack said. “But he did. And I watched and waited until finally I got word she was back. This is my only chance to get to know my own daughter. Do you know how long I’ve waited for this?”

  Hollis shook his head. “This isn’t fair to Emily.”

  “Hollis, please.” Jack reached inside his front shirt pocket and took out the folded photograph. “I was crazy about Isabelle. We were crazy about each other.” He handed over the photo. Hollis opened it and the image of Emily’s parents, younger, eyes sparkling with laughter, stared back at Hollis.

  “I saw her that night—the night of the accident. For the first time in years. It was one of those crazy coincidences—the first summer I’d come back to the island. I’d only been divorced a few months, and I don’t know—maybe part of me was hoping to run into her. I saw her at the Chicken Box of all places. Just walked in and saw her standing there looking like she did all those years before. It was like time stopped.”

  Hollis knew that feeling. He’d had it himself at the ferry landing the day Emily returned.

  “She smacked me.” Jack laughed. “She smacked me hard.”

  Hollis didn’t say anything, though his pulse was racing with Emily’s frantic energy. He needed to get back, but how did he walk away now? When Jack was finally giving answers?

  “I explained things to her, after she finally settled down. Told her I’d finally made something of myself.” He sighed. “Told her I never stopped loving her. After a lot of explaining, by some miracle, she agreed to try again.” Jack raked a hand through his hair.

  Hollis’s heart dropped.

  “She died on her way to my place.”

  “Jack, I’m sorry,” Hollis said. “And I do feel for you, but the only thing I really care about is Emily. And I have a hard time believing her mom magically forgave you for leaving like you did.”

  “You don’t know the whole story,” Jack said. “And I’m going to tell Emily everything, but I just need a little more time.”

  “This is going to break her heart.”

  “Don’t you think I know that?” Jack asked. “Why do you think I haven’t said anything yet?” He took the photo back, folded it up carefully, and slid it inside his pocket.

  “I really messed up,” Jack said.

  “You really missed out,” Hollis said. “She’s the most amazing woman I’ve ever met, and you missed all that—why? What reason could you possibly have to miss out on her?”

  Jack fixed his eyes on Hollis. “You love her.”

  Hollis looked away.

  “I mean, how could you not? She’s full of life, just like Isabelle. She’s infectious. You can see why I don’t want to say anything—if she’s angry, she could walk out of my life forever.”

  “Why now? After all she’s been through, why didn’t you come back years ago when she really needed you?”

  Jack shoved his hands in his pockets. “She didn’t need me. Not back then. I did what I thought was best for my daughter.”

  “And lying to her now—that’s what you think is best for her?”

  “I’m not lying, Hollis,” Jack said, then thoughtfully, “I’m just trying to find the words.”

  “You’ve had weeks to find the words.”

  “You have to let me tell her.” Jack squared off in front of him. “Please.”

  Hollis shook his head. It was bad enough feeling like he was conspiring with Eliza, but her request paled in comparison to what Jack was asking. He couldn’t lie to Emily—he wouldn’t.

  “Maybe the way I handled this wasn’t the right way,” Jack said. “But you have to understand, everything I’ve done I’ve done because I believed it was in Emily’s best interest.”

  Hollis looked away. “I’m having trouble seeing it t
hat way.”

  “I just need time,” Jack said. “Please.”

  Hollis sighed. “What you’re asking me to do . . . it means every time I’m with her and I don’t tell her, I’m lying to her.” Hollis rubbed the knot that had formed at the back of his neck. “Knowing how I feel about her, how can you ask me to do that?”

  “I know you don’t believe it, but I’m not the bad guy you think I am. And I’m gonna tell her everything—I need to figure out what to say. I need to figure out how to make her not hate me. Please, Hollis, it’s what I came here to do.”

  “I’m not keeping your secret for very much longer, Jack,” Hollis said. “So you better figure it out fast.”

  “I understand,” Jack said.

  Hollis gave Jack one last pointed glare, then turned and walked away, wishing like crazy that Emily hadn’t forgotten her script at home.

  CHAPTER 39

  WITH JUST A FEW MORE REHEARSALS before opening night, Emily had some tightening to do. The show was mostly in good shape, with the music, blocking, and almost all of the choreography taught. But there were a few things that needed tweaking, and today, she would tweak.

  As the director, it was her job to not only cast the vision for the whole show (costumes, sets, props, etc.) but also to work with the kids on their interpretation of the scenes.

  Before auditions, she was certain she wouldn’t be successful at this. Even today, sitting in a chair as the kids filed into the room, she still felt that way, and she’d been doing it for weeks.

  Get it together, Emily.

  The show was so close to ready—why were her nerves back?

  Maybe because this one scene was giving them trouble, and she knew it was up to her to fix it.

  Marisol must’ve sensed her hesitation that morning during their icebreaker game because she walked over to Emily and said, “What’s the matter?”

  Emily forced a smile. “Nothing.”

  “You look green.”

  “I think I’m starting to get nervous,” she said. “We’re opening two days from now.”