If Cupid were to flutter past her right now, she would grab him by the wings, haul the little bastard to the security checkpoint and tell the agents that he was packing arrows. That would throw him out of commission for a while.
“Hey.” She stepped forward, ready to take a carry-on, offer an ear, but Taylor stopped her with an upraised hand.
“Don’t hug me or I will completely and totally lose it.”
Shit.
“’Kay. You have a checked bag, right?”
“Yes.”
“You want to wait for that while I get the car?”
Taylor’s nod was small. “Good plan. Thanks.”
Too many possibilities raced through her head as she hurried through the dusky night. Whatever had happened, it obviously wasn’t pretty.
Taylor was at the curb by the time she pulled around, but looked like she was about to keel over at any second. Brynn threw the car in Park, took the suitcase and all but pushed Taylor into the seat.
“Buckle up.” It felt odd to say it to an adult, but honestly, Taylor seemed to be drifting further away by the minute.
Oh, God. Love sucked.
“You ready to talk?” she asked as she pulled out of the airport lot.
“There’s not much to say.”
“Yeah, well, the fact that you look like someone just hooked you up to a vacuum and sucked out your soul makes it hard for me to believe that, you know?”
“I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t the words that made Brynn’s heart twist. It was the broken whisper, the hitch in the breath, the way Taylor hunched further into herself as if waiting for life to deal her another blow.
Just the way Mom used to be.
Brynn spotted a golf course and turned into the deserted parking lot, where she steered to the farthest, darkest corner and killed the engine. Shadows and silence wrapped around them.
“You want to stay in the car or sit outside? I have a blanket in the back.”
“This is fine.”
“Okay.” Brynn cracked the windows and filled her lungs with the cool night air before touching the back of Taylor’s hand, lightly, quickly. “What happened?”
Taylor stared out the window. Brynn could barely make out the moment her face began to crumble.
“Carter and I...”
“Tay, no. You didn’t.”
Every worst-case scenario reared up and grabbed Brynn by the throat, easing only slightly as Taylor shook her head.
“We didn’t. We...we agreed we couldn’t hurt Ian that way.”
“What happened?”
“I tried my best to stay away from him. He asked me to dinner, I said I had plans. He sat beside me at lunch, I faked seeing someone I knew at another table and moved. He knocked on the door of my room and I pretended I wasn’t there. I tried so hard, Brynn.” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “But he followed me off the elevator and to my room. I told him I wasn’t feeling well but he...he said he knew I was avoiding him and he needed to know why. I pretended I didn’t know what he was talking about, but he looked at me, and Brynn, oh, my God, it was all there in his face, everything I’d been feeling, too...and he said he could only think of one reason why I would be doing my best to stay away from him. Because it was the same reason he’d been doing his best to stay away from me the past year.”
Oh, no. “So why did he speak up now?”
“Because of the conference. He said he promised himself he would never say anything, but when we both ended up there, he felt like maybe it was some kind of sign. Permission from the universe. Then when I wouldn’t let myself be near him, he knew he had to speak up.” Her voice cracked. “He loves me, Brynn. Just like I love him.”
Everything in Brynn wanted to insist that this wasn’t love but some twisted quirk of a malevolent fate. But even as her brain spit out explanations, her heart told her that the time for pretending was over.
Taylor had been right all along. She didn’t love Ian the way she should. That damned sicko Cupid had won again. It was time to accept what had happened and move on.
But hell and damnation, she was so sick of that little so-called god messing up the lives of people she loved.
“Tay, baby. I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’m glad.”
“You’re what?”
“I mean, I’m not happy about any of this. Every time I think of Ian, of Carter, of all of it, it’s like someone reached inside me and shoved glass into my heart, you know?” She clutched herself again, bringing a tightness to Brynn’s throat. “But even with all that hurt, there’s this stupid happiness. Because he loves me. It’s the most horrible mess I could ever imagine and it hurts so much I want to...I don’t know... But there in the middle of it is the fact that he loves me. And that makes the hurt worth it. Because knowing that if things were different... You don’t know what kind of joy that gives me.”
Love that could go nowhere, but still gave joy? Oh, yeah. That made perfect sense.
Yet even as she tried to scoff, she remembered the moment in the shower with Hank when the hot and heavy was behind them and the water had beat down on them and she had stood for a minute. Not moving. Not doing. Just being. It had passed almost as fast as it had come, replaced by a joke about aching muscles and a quick kiss and the reluctant need to get going. But for that one moment, she had been so...well...happy. Completely, undeniably happy. Not because her world had been rocked to the rafters, but because she was with Hank, and he was holding her, and that had been everything she needed.
Not that she was in love. Good Lord, not that. Hers was a simple case of lust mixed with friendship and a healthy dose of laughter. The perfect combination for some springtime fun, and thank God for that.
So why was it that seeing Taylor glowing through her tears left Brynn almost jealous?
“What happens now?”
Taylor stared through the windshield. “We do exactly what we have to do. When Ian comes back, we get through the festival, I tell him I’m not in love with him, I leave.”
“And Carter?”
The words were barely audible. “Will stay.”
Brynn’s eyes filled with the tears Taylor seemed determined to hold back. Of course. This was the only path they could pursue.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Remember when we first started this and I said you might need to take over my job for a while after I leave?”
“I—” The agreement died on her lips as the implications hit her. Yes, she had promised to do that. But that was when she truly believed that Taylor loved Ian, before she knew the Norths, before she knew Hank. Before she understood that her promise meant that—if Moxie and the others agreed to let her fill in as needed—she would be spending the weeks until cousin Paige went on maternity leave at Northstar while everyone around her knew that she had been party to this.
She would be a walking reminder of all the hurt that had come to the family, and that was even without Carter’s role being made public. They would dread the very sight of her.
And Hank—Hank would probably think she had been lying all along.
“Brynn? You promised.”
Fake it ’til you make it, Brynn.
“Of course, hon. If they want me to fill in, of course I will. As long as I can.”
“Thanks.” Taylor pressed her fingers to her eyes, but when she spoke, her voice was almost frightening in its steadiness. “Most of all, I need you to promise you’ll help him.”
“Who, Ian?”
“No. I mean, yes, of course, but his whole family will be in his corner. They’ll get him through this. But Carter—” her voice caught on a sob “—he won’t have anyone he can talk to. Except you. He knows that you know. Everyone will be so focused on Ian, and that’s fine, but n
o one will have any idea that Carter...”
With that, Taylor finally broke.
Brynn reached across the console to pull Taylor close and rubbed her back, promising that she would help Taylor, help Carter, help all of them.
Even if she had absolutely no reason to believe there was any way anyone was going to get through this without a broken heart.
CHAPTER TWELVE
HANK WASN’T SURE when he had started to look forward to the dance rehearsals. Maybe right after he realized that it meant watching Brynn shake assorted parts of that body in different and enticing rhythms. Maybe it had happened last week, when Millie snatched the ever-present blue notebook away from Brynn and led her on a giggling, shrieking chase through the halls that led to a giant family game of tag.
Or maybe it had been a couple of weeks ago when he realized he had stopped worrying about the steps and the audience and the past, and was simply enjoying the moment. Yeah, that had been a breathtaker, all right.
Whatever the reason, the truth was, he kind of liked it now. The dancing. The laughter. The feeling that he was part of his family again. Not that he had ever stopped, of course. But when they were moving through the sequence, each in their own spot but still together, it was easier to think that maybe he had found his place. Maybe he could figure out how to be part of them without always feeling like he was a step behind.
He would never have believed it, and there was no way in hell he would ever admit it, but he was glad Brynn had guilted him into dancing.
The weekly planning meetings, however, were still a pain in the ass. Especially this morning, when ten-fifteen rolled around with no sign of Carter.
“Must be getting reacquainted with Jenny in Accounting,” said Cash, leading to assorted snickers around the table.
Ma rolled her eyes. “He’s probably still on Calgary time.”
Moxie snorted. “Not that one. He bounces back faster than spandex on a porn star. Nope. It’s gotta be something else.”
Huh. The last time Moxie had made excuses for Carter she’d been covering for him while he negotiated the last-minute purchase of the Brockville plant.
“Well,” Brynn said, “he’s not the only one who has to adjust.” She glanced at Taylor, who looked like she was ready to slide into a puddle at any moment. No spandex there, that was for sure.
As if to prove how out of sorts she was, instead of being pleased by Brynn’s comment, Taylor pressed her lips together and frowned. Like she was...angry? With Brynn?
Oh, geez. If this was because he’d kept Brynn from being on time at the airport, he was going to have some fast talking ahead of him, for sure.
Thinking back to how he’d made her late, though—yeah. Any groveling would be well worth it.
“I’ll call him,” Cash said, but just as he reached for his phone, Carter stomped into the room, dropped his laptop on the table with a thud that made Moxie wince and yanked his chair out.
“Son of a—” Cash clamped his mouth closed and glared.
“What?” If Carter made the word any sharper, it could have pierced ears.
“Take it easy. You slammed your chair into my knee.”
Carter shrugged. “You’ve been crowding my space since before we were born. Not my fault you’re a slow learner.”
“That’s enough.” Ma pointed at the twins. “Carter, you are late and obnoxious. Get a grip.”
“Give it up, Ma. There’s no laundry room here.”
“Carter Wilfred North—” Dad began, but Brynn placed a light hand on his shoulder.
“Carter, you’ve had a busy few days. Do you need to skip the meeting this morning?”
He scowled. “No.”
“Well, then, we’re glad you could make it. Please don’t do anything to make us change that opinion.”
Hank tried but couldn’t completely repress his snort. Carter sat up straighter and glowered. Hank met his gaze, only to be distracted by something smacking into his ankle. Since he was sitting beside his mother, he had a pretty good idea of both the source of the smack and the message behind it.
Fine. He could take the high road.
Besides, if he stepped back, that gave Brynn more freedom to take Carter down herself—something which she could do ten times better than he had ever managed.
“Let’s get started.” Brynn put on her glasses. “Reports?”
As each North brought the rest of the family up to date, Hank alternated between taking notes and sneaking peeks at Carter. He certainly wasn’t channeling his usual smooth legal-eagle self and Hank could almost see the waves of anger rolling off of him. He didn’t know what had Carter so pissed at the world, but he sure as hell wouldn’t want to be on the receiving end of it.
“I’ve finalized the schedule for folks to move into place at the cabins,” Brynn said, flashing it on the screen. “I’ll send it out after the meeting. Hank, yours has more details than this but I’m sure there will still be questions. Let me know what I might have forgotten and I’ll make sure you get the answers.”
He nodded and pushed down the panic that reared up when he thought of how much still lay ahead of him. He had committed to this. He would make it happen.
“That’s everything for this week.” Brynn set her pen back on the table. Did she even know she always grabbed a pen when she had to talk? “Things are falling into place nicely, folks. This is going to be—”
“Hang on there, Brynn. We’re not done yet.” Moxie leaned forward. “I have an idea.”
Hank shot a quick glance at the clock, noted the time and stifled a sigh. Moxie was going to eat a major chunk of his day; he could guarantee it.
“We have lots of good things planned but I want to add something. Stop shaking your head, Cash, it won’t cost a lot of money.” Moxie sighed. “You people have no faith.”
“What were you thinking, Mrs.— Moxie?”
“Well. We’re talking a lot about the history and the community and all that, but I was thinking we need more of a human touch. So I thought back to when I was a girl. Our ice-cream bar in town has always been a place for folks to get together. I think we need to have folks send in pictures of themselves from times they’ve been there. Soccer teams and birthday parties and such. Maybe have them give us stories of how the dairy has been part of their life.” She shook her head and chuckled. “When I think of all the first dates that have happened there over the years...”
“Oh.” Brynn sat back. “Well. That’s, um, yes. We could put together panels of photos and stories. I like it.”
So did Hank. But he couldn’t help noticing that Brynn’s scrunched-up expression lacked excitement.
“We could do it by decades,” Ma suggested, but Moxie waved the suggestion away.
“Nah. That’ll be like everything else we’re doing. Let’s do this one by theme. You know. The teams, the parties, the sweethearts. Haven’t we had a couple of proposals there, too? I think we need to—”
She was interrupted by the crash of Carter’s chair hitting the ground. All eyes turned to Carter, who gripped the edge of the table as if it were the only thing keeping him upright.
“Carter?” Janice rose halfway from her chair, but he shook his head and stepped back.
“Sorry. I’d better—” He clapped his hand over his mouth and sprinted out of the room.
“Oh, dear.” Janice sank back into her chair before focusing on Taylor. “Was there a bug going around at the conference?”
“I don’t—” Taylor bit her lip, shook her head then stopped. “Maybe.”
“Well, hell. He breathed on all of us, too. Everyone go home and eat chicken soup.” Moxie sounded mighty damned excited for someone offering up a gloom-and-doom prediction.
“Cash, go check on your brother,” Janice said.
“Right. We’re
finished here.” Brynn seemed distracted. “Moxie, could you email me the details of your idea? I think we could do something with it.”
She scribbled something on her notepad. Chairs scraped and there were a couple of laughs as everyone gathered their things. They were all so busy that he was probably the only one watching Brynn as she looked at Moxie with narrowed eyes. Almost as if she were trying to read her mind.
* * *
T MINUS 17 DAYS.
The permanent countdown in Brynn’s head had started inching up in volume as they drew closer to the festival. Every sign of spring—the first shy crocus peeking through the last snow, the day she saw the faint green shimmer on the trees that meant the leaves were budding, the morning she stepped outside and then tossed her jacket back in the cabin because she was too warm—all of these usually welcome moments had been a mixed blessing this year. At first, each one reminded her that the festival was drawing closer and the time for getting through her ever-growing list of tasks was shrinking before her eyes.
Then each sign was a jab to her bubble of happiness, a whisper that soon she would be leaving—something that usually didn’t bother her, but this time around was proving more difficult than she’d expected. Maybe because she loved the work. Maybe because she had family here.
Maybe because laughing with Hank made her feel like she wanted to grab the moment and freeze it.
And now, ah, now. Here it was, almost May, and all she could think was that they were mere days away from a season colder than the cruelest winter. In seventeen days they would begin the festival, in nineteen days it would be over, and in three weeks Taylor would be gone and Ian and Carter would be nursing broken hearts and Hank—
Hank probably wouldn’t be laughing with her anymore.
Scowling at the robins hopping around the trees that circled the Northstar parking lot, Brynn shoved sunglasses on her face and headed for her car. She’d spent the morning alternating between festival calls and Taylor pep talks, and all she wanted was to drive to the river, sit on the shore and eat her sandwich. Alone.
And maybe come up with a way to postpone the festival a few weeks so she wouldn’t have to be permanently alone quite so soon.
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