“Keat, you’ve got to calm down.” Bowen put a forceful hand on my kneecap, stopping my leg that had been shaking a mile a minute.
“You’re asking this man, who’s only ever been with two women in his life, to calm down? Do you even know our brother, dude? He’s going to work himself up into such a state, I wouldn’t be surprised if he gives himself an ulcer.” Forrest laughs at my misfortune and walks to my fridge, helping himself to whatever is inside.
“Hey, do not eat my leftover shrimp scampi!” I yell at him, chewing a fingernail. “And I have not only been with two women in my life, no matter how boring you think I am. I just … the suspense is literally killing me. I wish she would just do it already. Break up with me. The avoidance or ghosting as you kids are calling it these days, is really messing with me.”
Forrest walks back to my living room, a cold piece of pizza halfway to his mouth. “I could hack into her email or her texts. We could see what she’s saying about you.”
I glare at him. “No, thank you. And seriously, I mean no. Don’t do it behind my back because you’re bored.”
He shrugs, already bored about talking about me.
“I get it, man, trust me I know what it’s like to feel left in limbo. But you’ve got to just relax. And if you can’t … I guess you can track her down and make some grand gesture but something tells me that Presley isn’t that girl.”
How come in situations that don’t apply to him, Bowen can be so articulate and supportive? Ask him one question about himself and he’ll shut down.
“How’s Fletch doing?” I change the subject.
I pick up the remote to have something to do with my hands and flip to Planet Earth. On the television, monkeys romp around in what looks like a tropical forest.
“He’s actually doing well. Showed up for work this entire week, I checked his punch card online,” Forrest tells us.
“I’m not going to ask how you did that.” I stare at him.
But hearing that Fletcher showed up for work at the grocery store he took shifts at was encouraging. Maybe he was finally going to get his act together this time.
Forrest, however, was going to land himself in jail. My brother was too smart for his own good, and there were rumblings that he was attracting attention from the wrong kind of people. The cops were one thing, but Forrest stuck his nose everywhere it shouldn’t be just for the sheer fact that he could. If he wasn’t careful, he was going to get caught in a place he really shouldn’t be one of these days.
“Hasn’t been at the Goat, either. I checked with Gerry.” Bowen leans back on the couch, checking his phone.
Who the hell is he waiting for? I don’t think I’ve ever seen my brother remember his cell phone from the drawer he kept it in, in his bedside table, much less check it.
While I’d been buried up to my eyeballs in my infatuation with Presley, my brothers and our world had continued turning. I’d missed things, and annoyance begins to simmer in my chest. I was supposed to be the leader of this family … I’d always known what everyone was up to and how everyone was doing.
I’d actively chosen, in the last couple of months, to take a back seat from my responsibilities. Something I’d never done before. And now that I’d confessed my feelings to Presley and she was shying away, maybe I’d temporarily walked away from my duties for nothing.
“Well … that’s good.” There is nothing else I can say because, clearly, they have our brother handled. Without me.
“Listen, brother, can you see your life being any different if Presley up and leaves town? Like, you got by without her. Sure, you’ll be butthurt for a while, but then you can get over it. And on top of someone else.”
Forrest’s question hits me right between the eyes. My life would be different if she left. Honestly, the idea of her leaving makes me want to punch something … and I am not a guy who’s ever resorted to physical violence. Hell, I’m even a wimp when it comes to using Bowen’s punching bag he keeps in his basement.
“You haven’t been in love, man. You just don’t get it.” I smile at him in that sad, know-it-all way.
Because someday, the love he felt for some girl was going to slap him upside the head and shake all of those superior ideas out of that big brain of his.
“If that isn’t the fucking truth.” Bowen’s eyes go stormy.
And it isn’t until right now that I realize there are two breaking hearts in the room.
32
Presley
Two huge duffels lay open on my bed, their bodies are full of clothes as I meander through the disaster that is my bedroom.
I’m a coward. I admit it. The past week, I’d felt like I was living in someone else’s life. My body didn’t feel my own, I couldn’t process things. My anxiety was maxed out at the highest level, and nothing—not work, or yoga, or walking through Fawn Hill—made me feel any better.
And so, I knew it was time to leave. I could go back to the city, get some waitressing job, crash on Ryan’s couch. I’d be safe in that bubble, the fast, desperate lifestyle where no one could get too close and nothing was really tying you down. Everything was replaceable there; if you got fired, there were thousands of bars or restaurants who would pick you back up. Dates and men were a dime a dozen, nothing special could fill the void for a short period. There was no one who relied on you, no adult decisions that had to be made.
I needed that. Because I couldn’t hack this. Sure, right now I was doing great. I had a steady job and the promise of a future in Fawn Hill. I had a man who loved me. But eventually, I’d screw those things up. Everyone around me would realize just how big of a fuck up I was, and it would all go south. So instead of sticking around for that, I was packing.
I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts and attempting not to burst into tears at any second that I didn’t hear Grandma when she propped herself against my doorframe.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” I jumped as I turned around, spotting her from where I stood at my closet.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her eyes were angry, narrowed buttons.
My heart was threatening to beat out of my chest, both from the fright and from her scrutiny.
“I … it’s a long story …”
“Well, you best start talking, because I don’t want to see what I think I’m seeing.” She entered the room, threw one of my duffels sharply on the floor, and took its place on the bed.
When I didn’t speak for a full two minutes, she threw her hands up.
“You’re just doing the same thing you always do, Presley. I may not have been around for much of your life, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know what kind of person you are. You create busy work. You quit things before they’re finished because it’s easier. When life threatens settling or permanence, you shake like a leaf and run. Commit to something, dammit. You have a good thing going here, so pull up your big girl panties and do the work. You don’t have to be a doctor or a lawyer … but jeez, be something. If I had a dying wish, that’s it.”
Her words hit me right between the eyes and travel down to form an ache in my breastbone. They’re harsh, they bite like a rabid dog … but they’re true.
“You’re not dying. Don’t go using that card to get me to do something.” I roll my eyes at her.
“You really are so much like me it’s scary.” Grandma chuckles. “But I mean it, Presley. You’re a bright, talented woman. I have a feeling my son and his wife didn’t tell you that much while you were growing up. So, I’m telling you now. You can do whatever you set your mind to. That sounds like something you say to a little girl, but since you never heard, I’ll repeat it. You can do whatever you set your mind to. Yoga studio, working in the bookshop, or whatever else floats your boat. Just give it a real shot.”
These words sting my eyes, tears threatening to fall. Maybe my grandmother is right. Sure, I’d grown up in a nice family. I did okay in school. I had friends and never wanted for much. But there is something t
o be said about being the average middle child sandwiched between two overachievers. My parents often overlooked me, and since my goals were different from those of my siblings, they wrote them off as frivolous.
Scars left by neglect or disappointment can’t be seen, but they run so deep that sometimes I feel like a doll who’s been mended one time too many.
Is that why I can’t seem to keep my feet planted in one place? Why I have to try new thing after new thing, just to find the path that will make me look the most desirable to them?
“They provided for me, they were good to me. I love them.” I practically choke on the words.
“Just because you love them doesn’t mean they aren’t flawed. It doesn’t mean they didn’t hurt you beyond measure.” Grandma nods. “Being a parent is difficult. Nurturing three minds at the same time is tough, and some shoe is bound to drop. But it doesn’t mean you can’t pick that shoe right up and run toward your dreams with it.”
I giggle. “Enough metaphors, Grandma. I get it. Although, what kind of shoe was it? I’m hoping a really expensive pair of heels.”
She scoops me up into a hug I didn’t volunteer for, but I relax against her. “I think it’s no shoes. I think you should do this yoga thing. Kill it, as the young folks say.”
“It’s not just the studio or you selling your business. The one you’ve spent a lifetime building, might I add.” I look down at my hands.
“Of course it’s not. Keaton Nash told you he loves you and you’re running like Cinderella turning back into a pumpkin.”
My head shoots up, my mouth falling open in shock. “How did you know that?”
“Child, didn’t I tell you you’re more like me than you ever could have imagined?” She chuckles. “It’s written all over your face. You love that boy back but are too damn scared of it to tell him. Or to stay put. You’re like a twitchy mouse ready to scurry away.”
Finally defeated, and completely giving over to my feelings, my shoulders sag. “What if I screw it all up? What if he, and everyone in this town, realize that I don’t measure up to any of it.”
Grandma gets up now and takes hold of my hands. “Presley, you might have been the kind of person I described just before, but you’re not her anymore. You are the type of woman who comes to help when her grandmother can’t take care of herself anymore. You are the type of woman who empowers other women through exercise and positive thinking. You are the type of woman who helps her boyfriend’s mother get her house ready for sale. Fawn Hill has changed you, my dear. Now don’t be a damn fool and ignore that fact. And don’t be a moron when it comes to Keaton Nash. Go tell that boy you love him. It’s my dying wish.”
My laugh is garbled with unshed tears. “Oh, stop it, you old kook.”
Deep down though, her words struck the doubt I’d let linger there for most of my life. She was the person who, for the first time ever, was helping me see just how worthy I was of everything that was coming to me. And I couldn’t leave her, not when I knew what she said was true.
I also needed to finally be a fucking adult and pull on my big girl panties.
You know, the ones Dr. Keaton Nash had pulled out of Grandma’s dog’s butt.
Yeah, it was finally time to show him those, metaphorically, and tell him how I really felt.
33
Presley
I ring his doorbell before my head can talk my heart out of it.
We haven’t seen each other in nearly four days, and that’s the longest we’ve gone since the night he took me to the water tower. After Grandma smacked some sense into my head, I threw my clothes out of the duffel and onto the floor of my room. I could only adult so much at one time and folding and organizing would have to wait.
Because tonight, I was going to tell the first man I’d ever said it to that I loved him.
It takes a few minutes, but I hear the lock being turned and then the door swings inward, revealing Keaton.
In nothing but basketball shorts. God, why did he have to be so freaking handsome? I was going to be insanely distracted during this if he didn’t put a shirt on.
“Presley.” His eyes go wide, and the tone of his voice holds surprise.
“Hey.” I smile sheepishly, holding up a hand.
Keaton looks mildly confused and hasn’t said anything else … and I’m still standing on his front porch after half a minute.
“Can I come in?” I’m suddenly so nervous, I feel like I might throw up.
How does one say I love you to the first person they’ve ever told it to, in a romantic sense, and not feel like they’re jumping out of a plane?
“Yeah, sure.” He steps aside, and when I move past him into the landing of his split level, I get a waft of the clean, soapy scent he always sports.
Gosh, I’ve missed him. The feeling swamps me, and before I know what I’m doing, I wrap my arms around his waist and press my cheek to his bare chest.
At first, Keaton goes still, and I know that I’ve hurt him. That makes my heart ache because I truly hadn’t considered it. While I was busy having a full-on meltdown over this man telling me he loves me, he’d been sitting in his house waiting for me. Or fearing that we were over. I’d left him in radio silence and he’d been his usual upstanding self and given me the space.
“I’m sorry,” I apologize to his pec, and finally he relents, wrapping those long, lean arms around me.
Against my hip, his phone starts to ring in his pocket. He reaches a hand down, finding it inside and silencing it.
He moves away from me, his eyes a blazing, deep caramel, and I know he’s trying to find the words.
Instead, he says, “Let’s have a drink.”
Yeah, wine sounded like a good idea for this conversation. I nod and follow him up the stairs to the first level of his house. Once I crest the top stair, his phone starts to go off again.
Keaton pulls it out of his pocket this time, stares at the screen, growls and clicks it off until he goes silent.
“Why do my brothers call at the worst times?” He gives me a small smile.
“Because they love you but are also the annoyance of your existence. At least that’s how I feel about my siblings.” I shrug.
And now that I think about it, once I confess that I’m in love with him, I want to spend more time getting to know his brothers. I’ve only hung out with them on a couple of occasions, and those are the people closest to Keaton. I want to become a part of their group … and I want them to know how I feel about their brother. It’s just clicked as a very important thing I need to show them.
“Keaton, I wanted to come over to say—”
My sentence is cut off as his phone rings again.
“Goddammit,” he bites out and looks at it once more, then up at me. “I’m sorry.”
He clicks the button to answer it and lifts it to his ear, his tone pure annoyance. “What is it?”
I wait as he listens to whoever is on the other end of the phone, his expression growing more grave by the second. He starts to nod and then bites his lip, and while he still has the phone pressed to his ear, he marches to his bedroom and appears back in front of me with a T-shirt covering his once bare chest.
“I’ll meet you there in twenty.”
He hangs up abruptly and looks at me; his mind somewhere completely different. “That was Bowen. Fletcher is in serious trouble, I have to go.”
“Let me come with you!” I call at his back, the thought popping out before I can think.
“If you want to.” He doesn’t even turn around to look at me when he says it, and I try not to let that sting.
He’s just worried about his brother. This has nothing to do with the fact that I didn’t say I love you back to him the other night. Or at least I can hope that it doesn’t.
Keaton doesn’t speak the entire ride, and I don’t prod him. I can see the twitch of his jaw, the sharp set of his eyebrows, the way his knuckles turn white as he grips the wheel. My responsible, good man is speeding … somethi
ng he never does. And it’s this … the body language he’s radiating across the truck, that has me panicking.
This is going to be bad.
I square my shoulders and take a deep breath, mentally preparing myself to be strong.
We pull onto a dirt road that winds deep between trees on an unlit road. About half a mile down, the forest breaks to reveal a plot of land that contains a broken-down, beat-up shack of a house. The siding must have been white at some point in time, but now it’s filthy and moss and leaves grow between the panels. Half the shutters have fallen off, the front porch steps look like they’d cause a broken ankle if stepped on, and there are half-built cars littering the lot. Garbage is scattered around the grassless land, and mud puddles mark the earth like bullet holes.
My heart rate spikes, because I know this isn’t the type of home where anything good happens. No … this is the site of something very bad, and I’m assuming, dangerous.
“Stay in the car,” Keaton grits out, his troubled eyes flashing to make sure I’m buckled in.
“Keaton, I don’t want you to go in there.” Some sixth sense has me wanting him to back down this driveway immediately.
“I’ll be fine. Stay here. I mean it, Presley.”
I nod, promising with my eyes that I’ll stay here. Keaton gets out just as another car pulls up, and I see Bowen meet him in the middle of the dark front yard. They talk quietly and then head up to the house. A flash of metal in Bowen’s hand tells me he’s holding a gun, and the organ trying to beat out of my chest suddenly jumps into my throat.
They disappear inside, and I’m all too aware that I’m sitting out here alone.
Fuck staying in the car. I know Keaton will be furious, but I’m not going to sit back while a person I love is put in danger. I’m done letting life happen to me.
Nash Brothers Box Set Page 15