Hold Me Tight

by Faith Sullivan

  “Speaking of knowing your place, our favorite swim coach might be thinking about coming clean.”

  I observe Conrad’s reaction very carefully. I’m treading on extremely dangerous ground. This subject is beyond classified—just bringing it up is suicide.

  “Leave us,” Conrad snarls.

  The help immediately flees the room, closing the door softly behind them.

  Great. Now I’m sealed in with the king of Wall Street himself. But I think I can handle him. He needs me. I’m one of the few who can keep his dirty little secret hidden. All I have to do is assure him that his damning actions will never see the light of day.

  “You said that girl’s under contract to finish the screenplay. So what’s the problem?” He taps his spoon against his saucer, hunting for details before ratcheting up his anger.

  I have to remember that he’s a rational predator. He only attacks when he feels threatened. He conserves his energy for when the time is right. Now he’s just feeling me out. I have to let him know that I have the situation under control, even if it doesn’t sound like it.

  “She’s in the middle of a difficult pregnancy. There’s always been a contingency in place in case she’s not able to finish it. But the benefits of her writing it clearly outweigh any temporary delays. I’m confident we can ride out the storm, get her to fall back in line.” I fold my hands together and sit back in my chair.

  Conrad always appreciates a display of confidence. I can’t go groveling at his feet and turn into a nervous wreck just because everything’s falling apart. If I show strength, he’ll respond in kind.

  “Lauren, I hate having to repeat myself. Like I said before, what’s the problem?” Conrad’s eyes darken as he pushes away from the table and crisply crosses his legs.

  “I think Tim formed some kind of emotional attachment to her when she was staying with him. After she left, he went into some kind of funk, not returning my phone calls, refusing to answer his front door. I had one of your PIs sit out front and keep an eye on him. The pictures they forwarded to me are disturbing.”

  I reach for my Hermes Birkin bag and remove the folder containing the photos before sliding it over to him.

  “He looks like he suffered some kind of breakdown—unshaven, despondent, glassy-eyed,” Conrad says flippantly, tossing the images of Tim’s demise back on the table. “You think he’s no longer mentally stable? That he might do something he’d regret?”

  “Exactly,” I agree, glad that he’s voicing my concerns for me.

  He removes his gold Cartier eyeglasses, twirling them by the stem, already recalculating his plan around what he views as nothing more than an annoying obstacle. He doesn’t see Tim as a human being. He never did. He’s just a bug to be crushed if he tries to get in the way.

  “How much have we given him so far for his silence?” Conrad asks, testing me to see if I know the exact figure off the top of my head, because I know he surely does.

  “$62,500 with an offer on the table to triple that if the screenplay is delivered on time and without incident. A cool quarter of a million for his trouble. I don’t see him backing out. I really don’t.” I push my chair away from the table, placing my elbows on my knees, ready to level with him. “I still have that leverage on his brother. I know you don’t want Ryan’s involvement leaked. I’m just hypothesizing the worst-case scenario if it comes down to protecting your reputation over your son’s. You’re the bigger fish. We’ve already discussed this. He takes the bullet so Price Enterprises remains scandal free. Investors want the integrity of their CEO to remain impeccable, and it will. You have my word.”

  “Lauren, I strongly encourage you to get this Michael Phelps wannabe back in line, because if it comes down to airing my son’s dirty laundry in public or dealing with this young man, I’ll have no problem eliminating him from the equation. Do I make myself clear?” Conrad narrows his eyes at me, taking my Hail Mary pass off the table.

  He can’t even look at his own son, but he has the gall to barter with the life of an innocent man to keep Ryan’s sexuality a secret. I nod hastily, too afraid not to agree with him. Backed into a corner, he’s capable of doing anything to safeguard the Price name—anything.

  But Conrad’s the one who screwed up. He’s the one who got Cassidy pregnant. And he’s determined to make Tim pay the price for his indiscretion one way or another. He found the guy to pin it on, the one willing to take the fall, and he’s going to milk it for all it’s worth. Tim’s not walking away from this, no matter how much he wants to tell Ivy the truth. If those fateful words ever leave his lips, he’s a dead man, plain and simple.

  My mind fast-forwards to Eric. If Tim tells Ivy, she’s sure to tell Eric. Then they’ll all come under Conrad’s radar. They’ll all be targeted. Conrad can’t let it get out that he knocked up the girl who died of cancer, America’s tragic little sweetheart. She’s not just some random college student who attended one of his seminars. She’s Cassidy, Eric’s Cassidy. The girl my stepfather couldn’t keep his hands off of.

  He intimidated her into silence. He bought mine, and I bought Tim’s. But will Conrad’s money be enough to keep Tim quiet now that Ivy’s involved? I just don’t know.

  The stakes have definitely been raised.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Ivy

  It’s still dark out even though it’s technically morning.

  The hands on the clock are nearing four thirty. Ben should be bringing Tim by any minute. But why do guys have to get up so darn early when they go hunting? I don’t think I slept a wink last night, and I’m mad because I wanted to be as sharp as possible for this. My brain is a little fuzzy, but that doesn’t mean my heart’s not racing. I’m only going to get one shot at convincing Tim to walk away from Lauren, and I need to be persuasive.

  I bend my knees and hug them to my chest. I wipe the frost off the window with the back of my sleeve and stare out. Eric pulled a chair over for me so I wouldn’t have to stand. I watch as he putters around the kitchen, trying to rustle up some coffee. If all I did was toss and turn next to him in bed, then I know he’s not that well rested either. He’s putting on a brave face, but I know this has to be hard for him. He probably thought that he’d never have to welcome Tim into the cabin he built for Cassidy.

  I glance over at Will, who is sprawled on the couch next to Shep. Ben texted him about a half hour ago to say that they were loading up his truck. But Will’s leg won’t stop fidgeting, and Shep doesn’t like it. He gets up and circles once, twice, three times before plopping down again. I don’t think Shep likes sharing the couch with Will either. Ever since Eric’s mom dropped him off last night, he’s been curled up on his blanket, letting Will know in no uncertain terms that it belongs to him and him alone.

  “Here they come,” Eric murmurs, catching me off guard.

  He’s right. Somehow he heard Ben’s truck approaching before the headlights rounded the bend. I was supposed to be on lookout duty, but Eric’s the one who remained vigilant. He must really be dreading this if he’s that alert before his first cup of coffee.

  Eric and Will walk over to join me, and we hear one door slam but not the other. The low vibration of Ben’s baritone is audible but muffled. It’s like he’s talking Tim into getting out. I guess Ben really didn’t tell Tim where they were going beforehand. Tim’s not going to be in a good mood from the start, considering his little brother tricked him into coming here.

  “Maybe I should go out there and let him see me. That might help.” My eyes bounce between Eric and Will, but they seem noncommittal at best.

  “Give him a minute,” Will urges, rubbing his hand across his chin, pondering our next move. “Ben said he’d probably dig his heels in at the beginning. So let him get Tim used to the idea before we go charging out there.”

  “Yeah, but we haven’t got all day,” Eric grumbles, in no mood to compromise.

  He’s just cranky and overtired. He busted his ass all weekend long selling trees, and he made a ki
lling. Having the extra manpower Will and Ben provided was a godsend. He was able to haul more trees down to the storefront and give his customers a better selection. Word quickly spread, and they were jammed Friday, Saturday, and Sunday.

  I was hoping that Saturday might have been our first date night, but Eric didn’t make it back to the cabin until nearly midnight. He left his muddy boots at the door, trudged up the steps, and collapsed into bed next to me. But I understand. There’s still time for romance. As long as my man is doing everything he can to provide for our baby, I’m not going to stop him. I know how tight things have been since Halloween. Eric’s business is dependent on the season. He has to make it while he can because it’s going to be a long stretch until spring arrives, not to mention the income that comes with it.

  I bite my lip and stare at the floor. Eric’s patience is running thin. If Ben doesn’t get Tim in here, I’m afraid of what he might do. The last thing anyone wants is for Eric to barge out there and confront him. Based on what happened the last time these two crossed paths, things could blow up before I even have a chance to talk to him.

  Finally, the sound of a truck door slamming greets our ears. We listen anxiously as the tread of their footsteps gets closer. I reach behind me for Eric’s hand, clasping it in mine. Surprisingly, he pulls me into his chest, his breath warm against my skin.

  “Whatever happens, you’re a good person for doing this,” he whispers, his lips moving against my hair. “Too good a person.”

  I wrap my arms around him and nestle my cheek next to his heart. I listen to it beating, taking a moment to prepare myself for what’s about to happen. There’s no denying that imminent sense of danger hanging in the air. Whether Tim admits to being the father or not, whatever he says is not going to be easy for Eric to hear. Tim thinks he loved Cassidy more than Eric, and if he starts making claims like that, anything could happen. I’m not sure how Eric’s going to react.

  There’s a slight pounding at the door, and Eric nods at Will over my head to answer it. I start to pull away from him, but Eric holds me tight. This isn’t a good idea if the first image Tim sees when Will opens the door is me clinging to Eric. I should be the one to greet him. I should be the first pair of eyes he connects with, not Eric’s hostile glare. Having my back turned is only going to antagonize Tim, like Eric’s shielding me from view.

  “Wait,” I call out before Will can turn the lock. “Let me do it.”

  Eric sighs deeply, making my body move with his.

  “Please,” I say softly, raising my head. “We need answers, and this is the only way we’re going to get them. He’s our last link to Cassidy.”

  Eric’s eyes are troubled yet tender as they look down at me. He’s doing something he never thought he’d do just because I’m asking him to. That takes a lot of faith in what we have to put it to the test like that. He believes we’re solid enough to get through this. Whatever revelation Tim makes, he knows we’ll still be here for each other, no matter what. And that’s huge.

  It’s moments like these that I don’t need him to tell me that he loves me. I can feel it deep inside. It’s what makes me believe that I can do anything—even this.

  Reluctantly, he lets me go, and I place my hand on Will’s shoulder, urging him to step aside. I take a deep breath and twist the knob.

  “Ivy!” Tim exclaims, taking a step back. He clearly wasn’t expecting to see me standing there.

  He looks terrible. His posture is slouched. His beard is unkempt with stubble trailing down his neck. His knit hat, while bright orange, is riddled with holes. But what gives me hope is that his eyes brightened the minute he saw me. I can still get through to him on some level.

  “Come in, and warm yourselves up before you head out into the woods,” I encourage, indicating that I don’t plan on holding them up. “Eric has a pot of coffee going.”

  I take a few steps back, giving them room to enter. But hearing me mention Eric’s name makes Tim hesitate. He knows what he’s about to face—and the person who’s waiting for him on the other side of the door—the second he steps over the threshold.

  Will, sensing the general unease, moves beside me, smiling warmly first at Tim before his gaze comes to linger on Ben. Will and Ben are speaking furiously to each other with their eyes as Ben gives Tim a gentle shove, pushing him through the doorway.

  Tim looks like a caged animal as he glances nervously around until his eyes land on Eric, who has his arms crossed, staring him down. If anyone’s going to break the ice, it’s going to have to be Tim, because Eric’s not going to budge. Tim starts to smirk, yanking off his hat and balling it in his fist. From the back, his hair is sticking out in every direction. I’ve never seen him so out of sorts, looking like he has nothing left to lose.

  “If you’re still brewing that sludge you call coffee, I’ll have a cup,” Tim chuckles, brushing past Eric and into the kitchen.

  That was a ballsy move, especially when I think back on how Eric reacted when Will pulled the same stunt the morning he brought us that bogus copy of the Gazette. I know that Eric doesn’t take kindly to being disrespected in his own house. Here I was, lecturing Eric on being polite, and Tim’s the one acting rude. These boys are driving me crazy.

  But Eric floors me when he laughs instead of throwing Tim up against the wall.

  “Yeah, screw you, man. At least I know enough to put a filter in first, unlike you,” Eric retorts, following behind his former friend.

  I exchange a quick glance with Will and Ben, and they look as shocked as I do. No one’s seen this side of Tim and Eric’s friendship before. It’s kind of nice.

  I don’t want to interrupt the male bonding that’s going on, so I tail them at a distance, and Tim starts filling two of the mugs Eric had out on the table. He hands one to Eric black, not even bothering to ask about cream or sugar, certain that the way he preferred it in high school is the way he takes it now. If there’s one thing about Eric, once he favors something, he sticks with it—end of story.

  “So this is it, huh?” Tim asks, raising his eyes above his steaming mug, scoping out the place from his current vantage point. “I like what you did with it, especially the fireplace. That’s something else. Is it bluestone?”

  “Yep. My aching back can attest to that,” Eric grimaces before taking a sip.

  I’m still in awe over how they went from an all-out brawl the last time they saw each other to shooting the breeze like nothing happened. It’s going to take me a while to grasp all of the different nuances of their relationship. It’s clear they know each other well enough that they’re picking up on the unspoken cues passing between them that I’m completely oblivious to. Whatever’s going on, I’m just glad they’re not fighting.

  There’s a box of doughnuts that Eric picked up at the store yesterday sitting on the table. Tim moseys on over, flips open the lid, and helps himself, chowing down while bits of glazed icing get stuck in his beard. Not bothering to reach for a napkin, he just uses the back of his arm to clear them away. Yeah, he definitely demonstrated better table manners when it was just the two of us. But Shep doesn’t seem to mind as he eagerly licks up the crumbs.

  Distracted, I look over and see Will and Ben sneaking outside to talk, leaving it to the three of us to sort this out. We’ve engaged in enough small talk. It’s time to get down to the nitty-gritty.

  Eric catches my eye, steering the conversation over to me. “Ivy’s the one who arranged all this for you, so be a gentleman and save her at least one of the doughnuts.”

  “So I have you to thank, huh?” Tim teases me with a gleam in his eye, happy that I wanted to see him again. “But I’ll have you know, Eric, that she’d take my baking over the store-bought variety any day.”

  “Yeah, I do miss those cookies,” I reply, buttering him up, and a hint of scowl crosses Eric’s face, belying his forced sense of joviality.

  “I’ll have to make you some more then,” Tim replies, his gaze lingering a tad too long for Eric’s liking.


  Navigating this minefield is going to be a lot trickier than I thought. I was anticipating that they’d be argumentative and combative and that I’d have to play the role of peacemaker. But I don’t know how to respond to this kind of flirty banter. If I play along, Eric is going to go through the roof. If I remain distant, Tim’s not going to want to open up to me.

  “Yeah, anything to keep me out of the Valu-Mart,” I remark, guiding Tim where I need him to go. “The last thing I need is to bump into Lauren again.”

  “You saw Lauren?” Tim asks, alarmed. “When?”

  “Yeah. It wasn’t pretty,” I respond, watching Tim’s easygoing demeanor visibly change. “I was surprised it took her over a week to track me down. I thought she’d set up a roadblock the minute I tried to leave your farmhouse.”

  “Fuck,” Tim mutters, pressing a hand to his forehead.

  “But at least this time I didn’t end up in the hospital,” I say wryly.

  “Ivy—” Eric starts gruffly.

  “I know…I know,” I reassure him. “Trust me. I don’t mean to make light of anything. It’s just that sometimes I need a dose of levity, otherwise I’d never get out of bed, especially at four in the morning.”

  “I don’t get it. Why did you want to see me?” Tim questions, placing his hands on his hips.

  “Because I was worried about you,” I reply honestly. “I heard you weren’t doing so well.”

  “You were worried about me?” Tim repeats, shaking his head. “No need. I’m fine, Ivy. Just fine.”

  “It doesn’t mean you have to be such a stranger. No calls. No texts. No emails. I thought we were friends?” I wait for Tim to look away, but he doesn’t. If anything, his gaze gets more intense.

  “Yeah, and how’s that supposed to work with this big brute over here watching my every move?” Tim gestures to Eric over his shoulder. “I didn’t think he’d let me get anywhere near you again.”