Yours to Hold: Ribbon Ridge Book Two

by Darcy Burke

  Derek closed the box. “I did. You pledged the same thing.”

  Kyle remembered that, too. “I win.” He flashed a victorious grin.

  Derek lifted a shoulder. “Or you lose, depending on how you look at it. I’m so crazy about Chloe. I can’t imagine my life without her. I hope you find someone, something like that.”

  For a fleeting moment, Kyle wondered if he already had.

  Chapter Eighteen

  ALEX’S LETTER SAT beside him in the car, almost as if his brother were there in the flesh. It was silly to think of it that way, but that’s the only way Kyle could characterize the eerie feeling he had—that his brother was with him.

  He parked in Maggie’s driveway and wondered if this was a bad idea. He had no inkling of what the letter might say. Would there be anything she ought not know? Anything that should be kept secret? Nothing Kyle could think of.

  Clenching his jaw, he picked up the letter and got out of the car. He knocked on her door and waited only a moment before she came to open it.

  She’d showered. Her hair hung in damp curls, and he could smell her shampoo—a citrus and spice scent. She didn’t wear any makeup, not that she ever needed any. Her skin glowed from her days spent outside, and her lush peach-hued lips beckoned him.

  Her gaze flickered with doubt. “I wasn’t sure you’d come.”

  “I said I would.”

  She still looked uncertain. “You were pretty upset about me telling my mom about us. Things seemed . . . unsettled.”

  Yeah, they did. They’d both discussed the need for secrecy, especially during this landscaping project. He wasn’t sure when he could come clean about her, but it definitely wasn’t going to be this week with the wedding and all the Natalie bullshit. “I’m sorry about that. I was just surprised that you told your mom. Can I come in?”

  “Sure.” She held the door, and he moved over the threshold. “What’s that?” Her gaze dipped to the envelope in his hand as she closed the door.

  “It’s the reason I came.” He walked into the living room and turned to face her. “Also, I made up with Derek.”

  Her features, so tense since he’d arrived, softened. “That’s great.”

  “He brought me Alex’s letter—he wrote one to each of us before he died and posthumously instructed his attorney on when we should get them.”

  Her jaw tightened, and her aura of anxiety returned. “He planned everything down to the minutiae, didn’t he?”

  Kyle was a bit surprised by the bitterness in her tone, but why should he be? He and his siblings, particularly Sara, had discussed Alex’s careful planning several times. It was downright macabre to think of all he’d done to pull it off. And without any of them knowing. It was equal parts brilliant and demented.

  “I wanted to read it with you,” he said. “If that’s okay.”

  Her eyes widened briefly. “Are you sure?”

  He nodded as he sat on her couch. “Sit with me?”

  She came and sank down beside him.

  “I’ll just read through it first.” Kyle opened the seal and pulled out the letter—a single page. He felt a surreal calm as he opened the paper.

  Dear Kyle,

  You are my hero.

  Maggie’s touch on his shoulder made him realize the sound he’d just heard in his head had been his audible reaction—part exhalation and part anguished cry. His throat burned.

  You’re either laughing or crying right now. Why are you my hero? Because you’re fearless. You do everything one hundred and fifty percent. And it’s different from Tori or Liam and their drive. You have this joy and lust for life that’s infectious. You’re the whole package—charming, charismatic, funny, smart, creative, and ridiculously good looking. Girls always followed you around, and everyone wanted to be your best friend. If Kyle Archer smiled at you, you were cool. If he talked to you, you were in. If you were in his inner circle, you were a prince of the world—not the king, because that was Kyle. But being one of your princes was enough. Thank you for making sure that I was a member of the court. You made life almost bearable.

  Kyle felt wetness on his cheeks, but he didn’t wipe it away.

  But do not for a second think that means my life became unbearable when you left. No guilt allowed! My life was always a breath—pun intended—away from utter desolation, but you were often what kept that breath in check.

  If you’re reading this, you’ve come back home and you’ve made up with Dad and Derek, and you’ve apologized to Sara for ditching her (that was a douche move, but I won’t bust your balls about it since I’m pretty sure she did a good job of that).

  “Yes, she did,” Kyle murmured, thinking of the weeks he’d been home before Sara would listen to his apology. They’d been close, and his abrupt departure had hit her the hardest—and he’d known it. Yeah, it had been the douchiest of douche moves.

  It’s about goddamn time, don’t you think? You are one stubborn son of a bitch, but then I suppose that’s an Archer trait we all share in varying degrees.

  Are you cooking? If you aren’t, it’s a damn shame and I hope you’ll fix that. I hope you’ll create a world-class restaurant at the monastery and blow everyone’s mind. You have the talent and the drive—but do you believe in yourself enough? That’s your biggest flaw, dude. Always thinking you’re behind or a loser or the flake. Newsflash: no one thinks that but you. Okay, maybe Liam, but he’s a dick.

  Kyle laughed. Liam was a dick, and the only person who could possibly think that more than Kyle was Alex. Kyle might have felt overshadowed by Liam’s drive and success, but at least they didn’t share the same looks and that mystical twin bond that simultaneously drew Liam and Alex together and drove them apart.

  So you’re a gambling addict. Yeah, I knew about that, but maybe you figured that out already. It doesn’t make you a failure, and neither does losing thirty grand. You fucked up. We all fuck up. I’m going out on a limb and predicting your fuckup will pale in comparison with mine. I failed at life. You couldn’t if you tried. Your spirit and your attitude are just too relentless. Do not make my mistake. Don’t hide who you are, what you’ve done, and what you feel. Our family is full of bullshit, but it’s also full of love, and there will always be someone—multiple someones—to lend you a hand when you need it. Don’t ever be afraid to ask. If there’s one thing you take from me, take that, please.

  I love you, Kyle. I’m sorry I had to go, but I just did. I hope that Mom and Dad aren’t suffering too much. Help them find laughter and joy, and make them a lot of comfort food.

  The scrawl of his name was so familiar and yet so strange at the same time. Kyle ran his fingers over the letters as if touching them was somehow touching his brother.

  He didn’t know how long he sat like that, but at length, Maggie’s fingers caressed his forearm. “You okay?”

  His eyes still felt a little wet. He brushed his hand over them. “Yeah. Here, you read it.” He looked at her, saw the compassion burning in her gaze.

  He leaned back against the couch while she read.

  Silence reigned for several long minutes. He didn’t watch her, just stared at the ceiling and thought about what Alex had written. He had no idea Alex had . . . what, idolized him?

  She refolded the letter. “Wow.”

  He sat up and faced her.

  Blinking back tears, she tried to smile. “I always knew he was an excellent observer, but he really nailed you, didn’t he?”

  “To the wall.”

  She handed the letter back to him. “You’re all so lucky. I had a sense of your family from Alex, but watching some of you together the past several days and now, reading this . . . it’s such a rare thing.”

  He was entranced by her words. “Why?”

  “The camaraderie, the ferocity with which you fight and support each other, the love. If I’d never known Alex, I might feel like I did after reading that.” She pressed a finger beneath her eye to catch a tear before it fell. “I could hear his voice, as i
f he were sitting here reading the letter to me.”

  “Me, too.” He liked that this woman had known his brother because no one ever would again.

  “Are you going to take his advice?”

  He slipped the letter back in the envelope and clutched it in his hand. “Cook my parents comfort food?”

  Her lips lifted in the hint of a smile. “No. He told you not to repeat his mistake, to not hide who you are and what you’re feeling.”

  “I sort of already did. I mean, I talked to Dad. And Derek.”

  “Yes, but what about the rest of your family? What about Sara? Doesn’t she deserve to know about your addiction?”

  “Deserve?” He grimaced. “I don’t know if I like that word.”

  “Why not? Don’t you deserve their love and support? That’s what you’ll get if you share your struggles with them. That’s what Alex was trying to say.”

  Kyle pushed up from the couch and walked to the front window. “I know what he was trying to say.”

  “You’re hiding your addiction. Just like you’re hiding me.” Her words pierced his back like little daggers. He turned to look at her. She still sat on the couch, her dark eyes wide, her expression frank.

  He’d been a fool to think they wouldn’t end up talking about this. “I have good reasons for hiding both of those things—reasons you are more than aware of.”

  “Yes, I’m aware, but there’s no good reason to keep your addiction from them. As for me, well, I understand why you don’t want to say anything. What’s to tell, anyway? We had a nice time together the past few weeks, but that’s all it is.” She looked away.

  No, that wasn’t all it was. He cared about her. More than he’d cared about anyone. She challenged him, she soothed him, she gave as good as she got. “We’re good together.”

  She smiled at him, but it was sad. “We were, yes. But it’s time for you to choose, and I want you to choose your family. I’m in a good place, the best place I’ve been in for a long time—maybe ever. I don’t really want the stress of dealing with your family’s outrage or aggression or whatever they’d end up feeling when they learned who I really am.”

  Was she breaking up with him? Could they even break up in this sort of situation?

  Of course they could. They might not have classified themselves as boyfriend and girlfriend, but parting ways, not seeing each other anymore, definitely constituted a breakup. “What are you saying?”

  “That you should focus on your family and rebuilding what you have there. I need to focus on me and my new direction. Maybe you could give me a letter of recommendation since The Alex is my only landscaping experience.” She stood up from the couch and walked toward the door.

  Damn, she was escorting him out. Yeah, she was definitely breaking up with him. He held up his hand. “Wait. I can’t quite process this. With everything going on this week and Alex’s letter . . .”

  She looked resolute. “It’s for the best. We both knew this didn’t have legs. Even if your family miraculously accepted me, I’m probably always going to therapize you, and you’re always going to have a compulsive personality, which is problematic enough, but for someone who has trouble owning their addiction, it can be disastrous.”

  “But I . . .” He what? Was he in love with her? He didn’t know. He’d never been in love before. He had no idea what that should feel like. What he did know is that he’d never felt the way he did about her about anyone else. Despite that, her words resonated in his battered mind. His shoulders bunched with tension. “I don’t have trouble owning my addiction. Did I ever try to hide it from you?”

  “No, but that’s because you wanted me to help you with it. You’ve never gotten straight-up counseling until you met me. I think you should find someone to talk to. If you want a recommendation—”

  Suddenly it was all too much—the letter, this entire conversation. His patience snapped. “Save it. You’re right, I don’t want you therapizing me anymore.” He opened the door. “Thanks for everything, Maggie. Take care of yourself.” He barely kept himself from slamming the door to release some of the emotion raging through him—anger, frustration, sadness.

  He went to his car and climbed inside, automatically starting in with the breathing Maggie had taught him and realizing she’d left her mark. Given the vague nausea swirling in his gut and the sharp pang of loss, he suspected her impact was deeper and would be far more lasting than either of them imagined.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “SOUNDS LIKE YOU’VE had quite a week,” Amy said near the end of their appointment on Friday. “First your mom, then deciding to leave counseling.” She shook her head. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed. You’re a good therapist, Maggie.”

  Maggie wasn’t sure she agreed but didn’t say so. She ran her hand along the smooth arm of the couch. “Thank you. I think I’ll be a better landscape designer.”

  “If that’s going to give you joy and fulfill your life, then I wholeheartedly support you. In fact, I’ve been interested in doing an English garden in my backyard. Maybe you can help me out.” She smiled warmly.

  “I’d be happy to—but you can’t pay me. You’ll be doing me a favor by giving me a project for my portfolio.”

  Amy looked as though she might argue, but she winked instead. “We can discuss the specifics later. I’d say at your next appointment, but I’m not sure you need one. Unless you want to talk more about Ryan Dillinger and what happened.”

  They’d spent close to half the session discussing his failed suicide attempt and its effect on Maggie. “I feel surprisingly good, but that doesn’t mean that won’t change after I e-mail him back.” He’d been released from the psych ward and had e-mailed her to apologize. She hadn’t yet responded but planned to—with Amy’s encouragement—in order to close that chapter in her life. “Can I touch base with you in a week or so?”

  “Please do. If there’s anything I can do for you, I hope you’ll let me know. You’re my patient, but you’ve also been a colleague, and I hope we can be friends.”

  “I’d like that.” Everyone had been so supportive of her decision to leave. Sure, Dr. Innes had tried to talk her out of it, but he’d ultimately understood. The clinic was doing a great job helping her patients to transition.

  “When are you going to be done at the clinic?” Amy asked.

  “I sort of already am. I’m meeting with a few patients next week, but I’m going in tomorrow to start cleaning out my office.”

  “How have your patients been taking your departure?”

  “Overall, they’ve been fairly positive, but a few were pretty upset.” She’d had to navigate two or three very uncomfortable phone calls.

  Amy scratched a note on her pad. “That doesn’t seem to be affecting you too much—you’re not internalizing their emotion.”

  Maggie had noticed that too, and it felt good. “Yeah. I take it as confirmation that this is the right decision.”

  “I’d say that’s a good assessment.” Amy slid the pen behind her ear. “I sense there might be something else, but then I often feel that way with you. You have many layers.” She chuckled.

  “And you’re very astute. I’ve actually been thinking a lot about Mark lately.”

  Amy cocked her head to the side. “Really, why?”

  “I think it’s because this feels like after we broke up—when I reset my life. I moved to a new town, launched a new career, set my life in a whole new direction. This seems like the same thing, minus the new town, but it feels different somehow. It feels better.”

  “And why do you think that is?”

  Maggie should’ve expected the question. She shrugged. “Maybe because of the conversation I had with my mom. Or maybe it’s because of the career shift—this time it feels like I’m making the right decisions instead of running away.”

  Or maybe it was because she was in love.

  She wanted to say the thought had come out of nowhere, but it hadn’t. It had been growing, slowly takin
g root and spreading until it had overtaken her.

  Telling Kyle to choose his family had been the hardest thing she’d ever done. She wanted to fight for him, to find a way to make it all work, but she’d known it was a losing battle. Maybe if they’d met at a different time, when Alex’s death wasn’t still so fresh. She’d considered waiting it out, but now that she’d turned a corner, she didn’t want to put things on hold. She needed to move forward, and if that meant doing so without Kyle, then that’s what she’d have to do. Her experience with Mark had taught her to never plan her life around a man again.

  “Are you sure it isn’t something else?” Amy asked. She really was an excellent therapist. It was as if she had a sixth sense about suppressed thoughts and feelings.

  “Maybe, but nothing I want—or need—to talk about.” When Amy’s gaze turned doubtful, Maggie added, “Truly. I’m fine.”

  The skepticism in Amy’s expression only intensified. “Well, when you figure out what happens with Kyle Archer, I hope you’ll let me know.”

  Maggie narrowed her eyes and then laughed softly. “You are too keen for your own good.” She stood. “Thanks, Amy. I’ll be in touch soon.”

  They exchanged a warm hug, and then Maggie drove up to the wedding cottage to do a final review before the rehearsal, which was due to start in a couple of hours. She parked in one of the handicap spots they’d made and was pleased to see that nobody was there yet. She’d only be a few minutes.

  Armed with pruners and a small bucket, she made a quick circuit to ensure everything looked fresh and beautiful. Not quick enough, however, as the sound of a car coming down the track drew her to turn. Damn, she was really hoping to get out of here before anyone arrived.

  She recognized the little Honda because it had been up here at least once a day all week. Chloe English—almost Sumner—got out of the car and waved. There was no avoiding her unless Maggie wanted to be rude. And she didn’t; she liked Chloe.

  Maggie walked over to her car. “Happy almost wedding day.”

  Chloe smiled—the kind of smile that couldn’t be contained, the kind that lit up the sky with its joy. “Hi, Magnolia! I know I keep saying this, but you’ve done such an amazing job. I can’t believe how you’ve transformed this space over the past week. It’s just perfect.”