by Nina Lane
“You’re beautiful,” I whispered, letting my fingers trace a flower petal. “So incredibly beautiful.”
His jaw stiffened as he looked at my hand on his skin. For a moment I expected him to refute what was so obvious and true. But instead he grasped my wrists and tugged me so I was lying half on top of him. He closed his arms around me.
Moonlight shone through the uncurtained window. I could still see the outline of the Butterfly House.
“Are you finished with it?” I asked.
“Almost.” He pressed a hand to my hair. “We’re doing the final touch-ups on the floors and trim. Lots of little things left to do, but the major work is done.”
Though I had known from the beginning he’d leave one day, pain stabbed through me at the realization that the day would soon be here.
“Oh,” I managed to say. “So when are you leaving?”
Tension rolled through him. “As soon as it’s done, I guess.”
“Okay.”
That was the biggest lie I’d ever told. It was not okay. Nothing was okay about Archer West swooping into my life like a beautiful, wild bird, sending my life into a tailspin, and then leaving.
Not just leaving. Leaving me. Leaving me alone.
“Okay,” I repeated, only because he was looking at me with his dark, haunted gaze and all I wanted to do was throw myself at him and never let go. But I couldn’t because he was leaving.
A knot formed in my throat. I could hardly remember my life before him. I didn’t want to imagine my life after him.
“I don’t want to go without you,” he said.
“Then don’t.” Though I had never been one to ask for anything, the plea came out as easily as thread slipping from a needle. “Stay here.”
His eyes darkened. I sensed the uncoiling of old pain in him, the regrets and sorrow we’d both felt for so long they had become part of us.
“Why not?” I whispered.
A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “Square peg. Round hole.”
“That’s not true. You… you fit here, Archer.” With me.
Even as I stammered out the words, a black pit opened inside me because I’d come to know Archer as well as he knew me. He hadn’t come to Mirror Lake to stay. He didn’t fit here, not really, not with Liv and Dean’s life and Avalon Street and my tenured professor career.
Still, I tried to picture it. I so wanted to believe it could happen—that I could convince him to stay in Mirror Lake and that we would both be happy. He could find a construction or motorcycle repair job. I’d teach classes and write papers and do all the professor things I was supposed to do. We would go grocery shopping together. Visit the mall. Take a trip every now and then. Share chocolate milk.
And beneath the surface would run a river of unease as I waited for the day when Archer realized he was bored out of his skull living such a contained life. The day when my guilt over forcing him onto my safe, narrow path became too much to bear.
I didn’t think Archer would ever fit in anywhere. He couldn’t. He was too bold, too fierce, too powerful. The world had to accommodate him, not the other way around.
A tight feeling gripped my chest. “I’m not… I don’t mean that you should stay for good or anything. Maybe just a few weeks longer.”
He turned away from me, his expression shuttered. He shook his head.
The black pit inside me opened wider. But I had known. I had known from the beginning.
I had no tears left to cry. The combined weight of our pasts and uncertain future seemed too heavy to escape.
I stroked Archer’s tattoo down to the raven’s wing curled over his arm. I traced the feathers and wished above all else that I could take flight with him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
ARCHER
STAY HERE.
Just a few weeks longer.
Though I’d never had illusions about anything, I couldn’t get Kelsey’s honeyed voice out of my mind. I wanted to stay. I wasn’t ready to end things with her anytime soon. But the longer I stayed, the harder it would be to leave.
And I’d have to leave eventually. I don’t mean that you should stay for good.
I’d never intended to. She’d never expected me to. Though we’d had an incredible time, though we cared about each other, the facts hadn’t changed. I was a former addict with no job prospects, and she was Professor March. I’d been hit by reality enough times to know that some obstacles were permanent.
The Butterfly House was almost finished. Liv and Dean planned to move in their belongings the following week, and a furniture store truck was scheduled to deliver a bunch of new stuff.
It was raining the afternoon before the truck was supposed to arrive. A spring rain shower, heavy and warm but nothing like the supercell storm Kelsey and I had been in.
I walked through the house, checking the floors to make sure there was nothing I needed to touch up or fix. Everything was bright, shiny, new.
I went upstairs. Four bedrooms. Liv had told me Nicholas’s room would be the one facing the back garden. There was an oak tree outside the window, and a view of the forested area beyond. I imagined The Castle Two in a big, solid tree somewhere out there. I’d subconsciously already mapped out a blueprint in my head.
The front door closed. I walked back downstairs, hoping it was Kelsey. Instead Dean was in the foyer, taking off his damp suit jacket. He held a large brown envelope under his arm.
“Just checking things out,” I told him. “There are a few places that could use some putty. I’ll do that before the furniture gets here.”
“Good. Thanks.” He tossed his jacket on the stair railing and tilted his head to the kitchen. “Got a second?”
“Sure.” I followed him into the kitchen. There were a couple of stools beside the quartz-topped central island, and we sat down.
Dean opened the damp envelope and took out a stack of typed pages. It looked like one of his academic papers or something.
“I know you told me you didn’t come here for this,” he said. “And I believe you. But I also know you’ve straightened up over the past few years. You’ve helped me out a lot here, done excellent work, and you’ve earned this.”
He pushed the papers across the island to me. The Gerald A. Haverton Irrevocable Trust…
A weird chill ran up my spine. “What… uh, what’s this about?”
“Your inheritance,” Dean said. “I talked to the lawyer last week, and he organized the paperwork to transfer the assets over to you. Most of the funds were invested in stocks and mutual funds that have done very well, so you can keep them there until you decide if you want to—”
“Wait a second.” Now the chill was creeping into my veins. “You’re giving me my inheritance?”
“I’m not giving it to you. You earned it.”
I stared at the papers. Words jumped at me like insects. Amendment, revocable, trustee, sum, condition precedent.
I looked at Dean. He was watching me, like he was waiting for me to give a cheer of fucking joy.
I shoved the papers back in his direction. “I don’t want it.”
He blinked. “What?”
“This wasn’t why I came here.” My blood was getting hot, the cold evaporating. “Thanks for believing me, but I never wanted it. I sure as hell didn’t come here to earn it.”
“Archer, it’s yours.”
“No, it’s not.” I shoved away from the island and got to my feet. “It’s a goddamned shitload of money that our mother’s father used to bribe me to go straight.”
“Who cares if he wanted to bribe you?” Dean said. “It’s still yours. You’re right—it’s a shitload of money that you can take with you.”
When you leave.
Tension clawed at my neck. “What made you decide to give it to me?”
“I’ve wanted to g
ive it to you for years, but I couldn’t until you fulfilled the conditions our grandfather set.”
“And now you’ve decided that I have.”
“Yes.” Dean started to look irritated. “What’s your problem? You knew he listed me as the trustee and executor.”
“Yeah, because you were always so fucking perfect.” My chest tightened. “He knew you’d follow his rules to the letter.”
“So what?” Dean frowned. “It’s a legal document. Of course I had to follow the rules.”
“You wouldn’t even know how to break the rules.” I pushed the papers at him again. A few fell to the floor. “My whole life, you’ve been the standard everyone else is measured against. Do you have any freaking idea how hard it is to measure up to perfection?”
Dean’s frown deepened. “You never even tried to measure up to a damn thing.”
“Because it was impossible.”
“Bullshit,” he said bluntly. He shoved off the stool, his expression darkening. “You didn’t come from some destitute life. Mom and Dad would have helped you if you’d asked. And if you’d bothered trying, you wouldn’t be a high-school dropout and a former user with a record. Don’t blame me because it took you this long to get your shit together.”
Anger and shame ripped through me.
“Easy for you to say, Boy Scout,” I retorted. “You think Dad didn’t hate me? I was a walking reminder of the fact that his wife fucked around on him. How would you feel if Liv did that to you?”
“Watch it.” Dean stepped toward me, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous, hard glint. “You leave Liv out of this.”
I knew I was pushing him. I wanted to. It was a horrible itch, like a thousand teeth gnawing at my skin.
“We may have lived in the same house,” I said. “But we had totally different lives.”
“What does any of this have to do with your inheritance?” Dean asked.
“That’s not why I came here.”
“I don’t care. I know you could use it.”
“Yeah, I could use it.” I spun to face him. “But do you know why I didn’t try to earn it and why I didn’t come here for it? Because I’ve always hated the idea that you were the only one who could say I was worthy of it.”
“It had nothing to do with worth, Archer. You just had to fulfill a set of conditions that—”
“That proved my fucking worth. Isn’t that what you think I’ve done now? I’ve proven I can stay clean, hold a job, be responsible. I’ve proven I can work well. I’ve kept my word that I wouldn’t treat Kelsey badly or—”
“Stop,” Dean interrupted. “You leave Kelsey out of this, too.”
How could I leave the woman I loved out of anything?
The question blasted into me like a hurricane.
“No.” I pointed a finger at Dean, clenching my other fingers so my hand didn’t shake. “You don’t tell me what to do or not do about Kelsey. She’s—”
Mine. Mine, goddammit. She’s mine.
No way could I tell Dean that. I tightened my fists and let the anger rise.
“I’ve proven I can keep my word, right?” I snapped. “Now you’re going to pat me on the head and tell me I’m a good boy, here’s your money, thanks for the help, now goodbye?”
“Look, Archer, I don’t know what the hell this is about.” Dean yanked at the knot of his necktie, his face hardening with frustration. “I’m not the one who set the conditions, but you’ve known about them for the past seven years. You could have used the money to turn your life around, but you didn’t even try.”
“I couldn’t!” I shouted. The anger boiled into rage, and suddenly I fucking hated my brother with his PhD and his big house and his perfect life. “Everything is so goddamned easy for you. Jesus Christ, Dean, I was an addict. I did drugs. I was in jail. I fucked around. I worked so I could get my next fix. Some days I woke up on the floor of a motel room without knowing how I got there or what I’d done. How the hell do you think I could have turned my life around?”
That shut him up for a second. Then he said, “Mom and Dad were—”
“Mom and Dad were glad to be rid of me, you shithead.” I stalked to the other side of the room, my fists clenching and unclenching. “With me gone, they could spend all their time bragging about how successful you were with all your awards and trophies and scholarships. That’s why our grandfather put you in charge of the inheritance, right? Because he knew you were so responsible.”
“And you think that was easy?” Dean’s mouth compressed. “I took care of the old man when he was sick with lung cancer. A fucking year. I went to live with him. He was a mean sonuvabitch, but I did it because no one else would. That’s why he left me so much money and made me the trustee of your fund. But you’d better believe I never wanted to be in charge of your inheritance. I’ve hated the responsibility. You have no idea how many times I wanted to give it to you just to get rid of it.”
“But you didn’t because you had to follow the rules.”
“It’s a legal document,” Dean retorted. “And I tried to keep track of you, to find out if Mom had heard from you, to figure out what you were doing. Half the time I didn’t even know how to reach you. Hell, I didn’t know if you were alive or dead. What else was I supposed to do but follow the rules?”
“You could have talked to me yourself.”
The words escaped me with a rush of pain. I turned away from him, embarrassment scorching my chest.
Dean was silent for a minute. Tension radiated from him.
“Archer, how was I supposed to talk to you? I couldn’t even find you.”
Did you try? I couldn’t bring myself to ask the pathetic question.
“I never wanted to hold this over you,” Dean said. “I know you got a shitty deal. You think I don’t? But for Christ’s sake, get over thinking it was so damned easy for me. I’ve worked my ass off. I’ve fought for everything I have, including my wife and son. The hell I’m going to let you say I have it all because of dumb luck.”
My jaw clenched. I’d fought, too. But I’d lost.
A picture of Kelsey surfaced in my mind. Sharp, brilliant, beautiful. Storms and laughter. Heat and softness. Chaos and peace. I’d never expected her when I came to Mirror Lake. Never imagined the thought of leaving her would break my chest wide open.
“Archer, our grandfather put this money aside for you,” Dean said. “Take it and go do something good with it.”
And get out of my life. He didn’t say that, but he didn’t have to. I’d always been the scar on the West family and there was no reason my status should change now. I was a fool to think maybe it could have.
Tension clawed at my neck. “I don’t want it.”
“Oh, for god’s sake.” Irritation cut through Dean’s voice. “You want to carry a chip on your shoulder for the rest of your life? You’re going to keep blaming me, blaming Mom and Dad when they did their best?”
“The hell they did.”
“Mom and Dad gave you everything they gave me and Paige,” Dean said.
“No, they fucking didn’t.”
“Oh, yeah?” He whirled around, his arms spread. “What, Archer? What the fuck did you not have that Paige and I did?”
“A family!” I shouted. “A goddamned family, okay?”
I saw his shocked expression the instant before my vision blurred. I bent to grab the papers off the floor. Tried to stop my hands from shaking as I pushed them back into the envelope.
“Forget it.” I rolled up the envelope and shoved it in my jacket pocket. “I’m leaving.”
“Archer—”
“I need to sign these papers to get the money, yeah?” I held up my hands and backed away. My lungs were too tight. I couldn’t pull in any air. “I’ll figure it out when I’m back in Nevada. You’re right. I’ll turn my life around. Stop hanging out in
bars and fucking whatever woman crosses my path.”
“Archer, for god’s sake—” Dean started toward me.
“Payment for services rendered, right?” I kept backing away. “I’m going to take off tonight. Say goodbye to Liv for me. And oh, hey, sorry for using your friend Kelsey, but I’ve done a few of those high-class women before. I knew she’d like slumming. And she was a great way to occupy my spare time while I was—”
“Don’t.” A woman’s voice sliced through the thick air.
Shit. Fucking fucking shit.
Dean and I both turned. She stood in the kitchen doorway, her blue eyes blazing. Her name stuck in my throat.
“Go away, Dean,” she said, her gaze on me.
“No.”
Kelsey cut her eyes to him, her face flushing with anger. “Go away.”
Dean’s expression darkened. They stared each other down for a second before he backed off, pointing to the door. “I’m right outside.”
“Stay there,” Kelsey ordered.
When he was gone, she came toward me in three strides and slapped her hand across my face. Hard. Pain jolted through my jaw. I almost stumbled back.
“That wasn’t for acting like an ass or because I think you really were just fucking with me,” she said coldly. “That was for saying you were using me to get to your brother. It was for lowering yourself to that level again.”
My chest constricted. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that it took my mother all of one afternoon to see in you what you haven’t seen your entire life,” Kelsey snapped. “You’re a survivor, Archer. You’ve been to hell and back. You’ve fought battles and lost, but you’ve also fought them and won. You were dealt a shitty hand, but you played it the only way you knew how. You made mistakes and you tried to do things right. You know more about loss than most people learn in a lifetime. So don’t you dare try and convince anyone, even your brother, that you’ve never been or ever will be anything but a user and a fuck-up.”