by Lee Kilraine
“No. I ordered it from the Fresh Market. They even delivered it.”
“That pie looks homemade,” Wyatt said, once again his attention to detail excellent if not embarrassing right now.
“Yes, the pie is homemade. I made the pie. Coconut custard.”
Ash left the couch to see such a rare thing as a homemade pie in a Thorne brother kitchen. “Fuck, did you get drunk and put on a blindfold first?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned down at the pie. So it was lopsided and I’d burned the crust a bit. More than a bit. I thought it wasn’t bad for a first effort. Of course, I hadn’t tasted it yet. “You’d think no man had ever made a pie in the history of the world, the way y’all are freaking out. A guy doesn’t lose his man-card just by baking a pie.”
“Where’d you get the recipe?” Gray asked.
Fuck, he had me there. I think if I answered Pinterest, I would officially lose my man-card. Pretty sure that’s in the fine print. I shot Gray a frown and he burst out laughing.
“Looks good, Beck.” Eli slapped a hand on my shoulder. “I bet it tastes great. Let’s eat.”
“As soon as Sam gets here.” And as sure as I knew it would, that got all my brothers’ attention. Ash even muted the football game he’d already turned on.
There was a chorus of “ohs” as if this all made sense now.
“I told you he was trying to impress Sam,” Gray said.
Eli smiled and winked.
Wyatt nodded.
And Ash frowned. (Pretty sure that was still because of the loss.)
But the thing was—this wasn’t about Sam. Okay, the coconut custard pie was. I was already grinning over the look on her face when she saw it. When she tasted it. I was looking forward to licking some of it off her delectable body later tonight.
But other than the pie, it wasn’t like they were making it out to be.
“It’s not. This isn’t about Sam. This is about us. I realized we don’t have any family traditions to celebrate holidays.”
“I thought pizza at Louie’s is our tradition,” Gray said.
“Pizza at Louie’s is our way of avoiding the void in our lives.” Wyatt looked at me with understanding.
“Lord knows we didn’t have a normal home life growing up. Holidays were like all the other days for us. No different. Holidays should be special times that create good memories. Good food, favorite dishes that get handed down from one generation to the next—that’s part of it. It’s a good, happy thing that connects us to each other. Mom and dad—they robbed that from us.
“We’ve mostly bonded and connected from the nightmare we were caught up in. And I simply thought it was past time that we stopped letting them steal our happiness. I was only trying to create our own good memories, traditions that could grow to mean something to us. Traditions we can hand down to our children if, God forbid, any of us was crazy enough to have one.”
I looked around at my brothers, all of whom were studiously avoiding looking at me or each other. Suddenly my adobe tile floor, and Asher’s boots, and the food-laden counter were all very interesting. I got it. Our parents had done a number on us, and sometimes it was easier to bury the damage than fight our way out from under it.
Ash cleared his throat. “We can do Christmas at my place. I’ll even make my own potatoes. But I want a better looking pie, Beck. That one’s not going to cut it.”
“It’s actually very good,” Eli said. While we weren’t looking he’d cut a slice and helped himself. “Can we eat now?”
“We’re waiting for Sam, you pig.” Gray pushed Eli away from the counter and ushered us back around the TV. “Ash! Grab us a few beers!”
“She’ll be here any minute.” Yep, I felt awkward. I’d never invited a woman to a family get-together. And sure, Sam and I had been working closely together for the past five months. But this was different. This was somewhere I’d never gone.
I watched the game, drank my beer, and waited patiently. Okay, that was a lie. I was damn impatient because of those plans I had for the pie after my brothers left.
I finally texted Sam to see if everything was all right.
She replied twenty minutes later. Sorry. Something came up. Can’t make it.
Crap. I hoped everything was okay. That was my first thought. I was worried for her.
But I had to admit I was disappointed too. Sure, that she couldn’t make it, but also… Couldn’t she have called? Expanded on why? The need to hear her voice to make sure she was okay freaked me out. I’d spent my whole life avoiding needing anyone. And I didn’t know if I was more pissed at Samantha. Or myself.
I stood abruptly and moved into the kitchen. “We can eat now.”
“I thought—ow!” Someone cut Eli off.
They knew. They’d seen me texting. It probably wasn’t even a big deal. There was no reason to overreact when surely it was some simple explanation. I’d call her tomorrow and make sure everything was all right.
We all loaded up our plates and went back to eat in front of the football game. At half-time we had seconds and by the third quarter we’d moved on to dessert. I was no longer in the mood for pie, so I had a cupcake and another beer.
At one point Eli returned from the small bath down the hall and came back with a laundry list of punch items he saw wrong with my old house.
“Why don’t you fix up your place, Beck? Shit, the house is falling down around your ears.”
“Who’s got the time, right?” I shrugged and took a long pull on my beer.
Wyatt’s gaze bored a hole in my forehead, and I could sense he was anxious. I knew what he was thinking about, but I needed more time before I had that conversation with my brothers.
I guess Wyatt decided I’d had enough time because when I didn’t open my mouth—he did.
“Beck has the time. It’s the money he doesn’t have.” Which, considering SBC has had a couple good years, got everyone’s attention quick. “Beck got caught up in that mortgage crisis. Between that and a bad loan, Beck and SBC by extension have no money.”
“You couldn’t have waited a few more weeks, Wyatt?”
“You had months. They deserve to know.”
“What the hell, Beck?” Gray’s face was a mask of anger and frustration. “Were you even going to bother letting us know?”
“Honestly? No. I thought I’d never have to tell you because I was sure we’d make enough that I’d pay it off real easy. Once it became clear that wasn’t going to happen, I was going to tell you—as soon as I had a solution.”
“You should have told us from the beginning,” Wyatt said quietly. Calm, rule-following Wyatt.
“Why didn’t you ask me for money?” Ash speared me with his light brown gaze.
“Because a professional athlete is one injury away from not having a paycheck, that’s why. You don’t need to be throwing away your money on a wild goose chase just because I did.”
“Who the fuck died and made you king of my universe? Don’t you think I can make that decision for myself?”
“He’d have to trust you for that to happen, Ash. Beck doesn’t trust any of us,” Gray said, arms crossed over his chest and looking about as happy as Ash right now. So not happy at all.
“That is not true. You’re the only people I trust.” How did they not know that?
“The problem is that Beck doesn’t trust himself,” Wyatt said quietly. “He thinks he’s failed us.”
“Look, I was the one who convinced all of you that we should start SBC. I assured you our business would guarantee our financial security. I’m a great salesman and I talked all of you into it. If it failed, then I’d have failed you again.” Just like I had when I couldn’t keep us together. I would sell my soul to keep that from happening again. Which is pretty much what I’d done with the crap loan. “Hell, I’m the one who drove Da
d away. It was my job to fix it.”
“You don’t get to hoard the guilt, Beckett. You don’t think I feel guilty about what happened? Hell, I’m the one whose broken leg got noticed by family services and we got split up into different foster homes. Ash thinks his coming out drove Dad away. Wyatt thinks his not talking for five years did it. For all I know the fact that Eli may actually be our half-brother drove the old man away.”
“What do you mean I might be your half-brother? The fuck are you talking about?”
“Oh shit, Gray. You have a big damn mouth,” Ash said.
Gray threw his arms in the air. “Well how the hell did I know Eli didn’t know he might not be dad’s kid? Sorry, Eli. I thought you knew what with your blond hair and all.”
“You don’t understand. I’m the one Mom asked. She looked me right in the eyes and asked me—told me—to take care of you.”
“Jesus Christ, Beck. You were eight years old. A baby. She had no right to lay that burden on you.”
“Hell, you and Ash had been looking out for all of us for years before that.” Wyatt frowned. “Long before she left.”
“What kind of a mother leaves her sons with a man like our father anyway?” Eli asked.
The room went quiet. Because in all these years since—none of us had ever said it aloud. But we’d all thought it.
“He was a goddamn son of a bitch,” Ash said, his eyes as distant and cold as his voice.
“He was that.” Just like our momma, we didn’t know if he was dead or alive. “That’s exactly why I refuse to let this loan break us. I swore to God the day I started searching for you all that I would never let that bastard win. We will damn well succeed in spite of him and then spit on his fucking grave.”
“I think we should stay focused on the problem,” Wyatt said, calming things down and bringing us back around.
“Fine. Who has a solution? I’d love to hear it.” Silence. Silence greeted me.
“We could sell Six Brothers Construction and start over.” Wyatt’s gaze was firm on mine.
“We could. Except then we wouldn’t have the money for the private investigator I’ve been paying to find Ryker.”
“Hell, Beck, you need to tell us these things,” Ash said. “We’re in this together.”
“I’m working on that. Why do you think I just told you?”
“You’ve tried refinancing?” Eli asked.
I ran a hand along the back of my neck and shook my head. “Look, I was young, stupid, and desperate. There is no refinancing this loan.”
“Maybe we can find an investor…someone we trust,” Gray suggested. “We’ve made some good business contacts over the years.”
“Okay. Gray and Wyatt, why don’t you work that angle? Just come up with a list to see if it’s a viable option.” I hated the idea but maybe a minority investor would be enough to get us through without too much damage. “I’m hoping the King job and the gala are going to be our way out of this.”
We all sat in silence looking around at each other. The angry reaction I’d expected had been short-lived. Wyatt had been right about not holding on to that secret, it just hadn’t been easy to let it go.
“So, what’s next?” Eli asked.
“What’s next is I’m going to fix myself a plate of leftovers and go home,” Ash said. “I’m not sure I can take anything else tonight. As it is, we’re now stuck celebrating holidays together, and Beck has officially retired as sole keeper and defender of the Thorne brothers.”
It would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel like a load had been removed from my shoulders. If I ignored the gut punch of getting stood up by Samantha, I felt the solidarity and support of my brothers. I liked it.
We divvied up the leftovers, giving the lion’s share to Ash.
“Make sure I get a piece of the pie on my plate, Beck,” Eli said.
I looked at the pie and felt the gut punch again. I picked it up and shoved it into Eli’s hands. “Take the whole thing.”
Chapter 25
Beckett
Sam had disappeared. Okay, not actually disappeared. But I could have used more details. Something more that might explain why she’d left at a critical juncture of a huge project, right?
We had a meeting scheduled over coffee this morning. Which she missed. How fucking unprofessional was that? Oh, sure she’d sent Margo in her place, but that’s not the point right now. And yes, Margo managed to go through the list like Sam was supposed to, but it hadn’t stopped the anger that filled up my chest.
Why the fuck was I so angry? Why the hell should I care? Shit got done. Sam’s disappearance didn’t even put us behind schedule, because she’d been so organized about it. So what the fuck was my problem?
I felt like I’d been sucker-punched, but it was my own fault. I’d let my guard down and ignored the painful lesson of my youth—don’t count on love. Was it love? My head hadn’t gone there, but my heart had been feeling something soft and squishy these past few weeks with Sam. These last few months I’d given her unprecedented access to my unguarded heart. I’d grown used to the way our lives had intertwined. The more time Sam and I had spent together, the more it felt like I’d thrown open the boarded-up windows to my soul and let fresh air and sunshine stream in.
But then just as the sun sets in the west every damn time, the woman who’d crawled into a corner of my heart just up and disappeared with no word. She didn’t answer my calls either. I’d called her after Thanksgiving, to make sure everything was all right. No answer. I’d called the next day too. Same result. Damn if I hadn’t fallen into the same gaping pit that had opened in front of me when our momma left us.
Apparently I was a slow learner, but I’d be fine. As soon as I didn’t have to see Samantha every day, or work beside her where I could feel her heat and smell her soft perfume. As soon as I stopped dreaming of her, of the two of us together, every time I closed my eyes. As soon as I could erase the teasing vision of a future together that had snuck into my brain and my heart when I wasn’t looking.
I had my business. I had my brothers. I’d be fine. And maybe if I repeated that enough, I’d believe it.
I had no reason to feel like she’d left me standing at the edge of a steep drop. None. Except… I rubbed my chest where it had gone tight and burned down deep. My breath felt stifled. I couldn’t blame it on the heat wave either, because that was long gone. We were heading into December now. I pulled a slow, steady breath into my lungs and let it out.
Control came back slowly. That feeling of vulnerability closed up, like armor going back over fresh new skin. Protectively. This was why I’d never gone to this place before with a woman. I didn’t need this feeling. I didn’t want this feeling. Hell, I’d spent my whole adult life making sure I didn’t get hit in the face with this feeling.
Why had I gone there with Sam? Because once I’d gotten to know her, I didn’t really have a choice.
The fact that I’d been lying to myself was the problem. It’s just sex. Apparently not, at least not for me. Sam on the other hand must have meant it every time she agreed breathlessly with soft sexy pants of air into my ear. Just sex. Got it. I was an idiot.
As much as I’d lied to myself—to both of us—that it was just sex… It had never been just sex with Sam. It had always been more.
Yet here I stood caring about someone who’d withdrawn from my life in a painful heartbeat. I knew she’d appear soon. We had a job to finish. But this feeling was a reminder of why I didn’t ever let my heart get involved.
* * * *
Three days later, when Sam finally showed her face, there was a distance between us. One I’d expected. One I’d planned for and helped enforce even. Like a glass wall went up between us. That was fine. We’d said all along this thing between us was going to end when the job did. And the frenzy throughout the house was a sure sign this job was in the fina
l stage.
Hell, it was better this way. This way each of us could avoid making any crazy mistake thinking the closeness from the job could be a real live thing we could count on. We could trust in. Even though it had grown to feel just like that. That had been an illusion. A sweet illusion that needed to end. But all that reasoning didn’t stop the ball of anger in my gut that grew tighter and tighter. There were damn sure better ways for Sam to have handled this.
After one too many cool, abrupt responses from her during our first meeting since her return, I lost my ability to stifle the main thought burning away at my gut.
“You know a phone call would have been appreciated.” My voice was calm. I kept it cool. She didn’t owe me anything personally. But professionally, I had too much riding on this to have her go flaky on me now. “I mean, your text didn’t give me much information. It’s simple common courtesy among colleagues.”
“You’re right. I apologize.” Her eyes met mine full-on for the first time that morning. They were filled with guilt. But not remorse. “I’m totally one-hundred percent on this job until the gala is finished. That won’t happen again.”
“Do you think there’s any way we can find some middle ground here?” I hated the space that had grown between us. I’m not sure how I’d envisioned the end of us to play out, but I hadn’t pictured this. Not this scraped out, hollow feeling. Not the cool distance like she’d cut the tether holding us together and now we were floating apart.
“What do you mean? We agreed on the design months ago.”
“I mean middle ground in our personal life. Somewhere between no longer sleeping together and hating me.”
She bit her bottom lip, her face softening. “I don’t hate you, Beck. I don’t. This really isn’t about you. It’s me—it’s my deal. I’m sorry if I can’t be more mature about it.”
My eyes searched hers, and the honesty I saw there grabbed at me like a fist around my throat. What did I think I’d see? Something different? Had I been hoping for her to deny it?
“You’re a good guy, Beckett.”