It wasn’t something I had the privilege of time to think about. She was holed up in her house, frantically going over her speech before we took off tomorrow for the exhibit. Although I didn’t have any confirmation that was what she was doing, Carla had been uncharacteristically quiet today, both on the phone and through text messages. I assumed she was nervous and needed some space, so that was what I was giving her.
It was what I needed, too. More than that, I needed a distraction. That was precisely why the lifting of the Cooper ban from Reilly’s couldn’t have come at a better time.
My brothers’ drinks were on me. I’d been the one to get them banned in the first place, though they were, as expected, taking this too far. They had already drunk themselves through three rounds of beers and one round of tequila slammers. Eli had ordered more.
When he tried to push another shot on me, I held my hands up and shook my head. “No more for me. Unlike the two of you, I actually have work to do tomorrow.”
Between the three of us and our crew, the two-story and apartment show-homes had been completed on time, and they looked amazing. While Eli and Pax were at the office, someone had been in to take video tours to bring to the exhibit. I would have to spend much of my Friday before setting off on the road finalizing my stand, setup, and interactive displays. I couldn’t afford to be hungover, but my brothers didn’t know that.
“You’re no fun in your old age,” Pax complained before proceeding to drink a shot of tequila on my behalf.
“At the rate you’re going, Pax, you’ll end up blackout drunk in under an hour and spewing into the toilet. That no doubt will get you a hard ban with no help from yours truly.”
“Hardly. I’ve had dinner. I can handle a few shots.”
“Sure you can.” I chuckled. “You realize you sound like a college freshman, right?”
“Nothing wrong with sounding like someone who wants to have a good time. Better than sounding like a grandpa.”
“Oh, that burns.” Inside I laughed harder because it only took a drink or two, and Pax turned from a mute to a chatterbox.
I was distracted from the brotherly exchange of insults when I realized who was sitting at the bar. I hadn’t noticed before because I’d been ignoring Ruthie.
I frowned and tapped Pax on his shoulder. “Is that Carla’s brother over there? Rich Stevenson, right?” I asked, subtly pointing the man out.
Pax considered the man’s back then slowly nodded. “Yep, I think it is. Weird for him to be in here on his own, though.”
“Yep, he’s never been the pathetic loner type in Reilly’s before,” Eli chimed in, immediately curious. No doubt devising a story for him.
“Thanks for the analysis that I didn’t need.” I got up, and Eli grabbed my arm.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Going over to say hello. What does it look like I’m doing?”
He shook his head incredulously. “And then what? Will you say, ‘You don’t know me, but I’m boning your sister’? Somehow, I don’t think that’ll go over well. He’s pretty damn protective of Carla.”
“Well,” I reasoned, “if I want to continue things with Carla, then Rich will have to meet me, eventually. Why not now?”
“Things are still goin’ well between the two of you?”
“You sound insultingly surprised.”
Pax snickered. “I think we all are.”
“Don’t you dare gang up on me.”
“It’s what brothers do,” he chimed in before waving me off. “May as well meet him while we’re here to witness it.”
“Such strong words of encouragement,” I threw back before leaving the relative safety of our booth to wander over to Rich’s side.
Ruthie glared at me in open animosity.
“Rich Stevenson?” I asked when I reached the bar.
The man turned to me. He looked drunk and exhausted. Through squinty eyes, he asked, “Do I know you? Ah, yes. You’re one of the Coopers, right?”
I nodded, holding out my hand in greeting. “Owen, the oldest. I think I’ve met you once before, in passing. We’ve spoken on the phone a few times.”
“I guess you’re right,” Rich said as he shook my hand. “God, you all look so much alike. Except for—” He looked past me to my brothers.
“Paxton.” I nodded. “He gets that a lot.”
“Right.”
“How are you, anyway? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here.”
“I usually drink with my friends the next town over or in Huck’s. Too many old folks in here.”
I looked around the room in surprise before realizing Rich was correct. It was a place that could go broke if they offered a senior discount.
“You know, I’d never noticed that before. Maybe that means I have to accept I’m getting older.”
He looked at me blearily. “Was there something you wanted?”
“That’s a question I ask myself every day,” Ruthie bit out from behind the bar. I resisted the urge to react.
“With the mill being in trouble and all, I wanted to know how you were doing,” I explained.
He snapped his head back. “How do you know about that?” His expression turned sharp and attentive.
Ah, shit.
“It’s what I’ve heard. It’s more like speculation from Pax when he’s gone up to check on our orders.”
Rich stared at me, frowning. “Have you been talking to my sister?”
Here goes nothing.
“Yes. We’ve been seeing each other for a while now.”
“You’ve been seeing each other? As in going out?”
“Yes. I suppose so.”
“For how long?”
I looked up at the ceiling and considered the time frame. A lifetime of feelings had consumed me in three weeks.
“Less than a month.”
“Less than a month, and already she’s telling you family business? Why are you sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?”
His whiskey-laced breath rushed past my nostrils.
“Hey, that’s not what’s going on.”
“Hell if it isn’t. I call bullshit. Carl was ready to sell the mill less than a month ago, and then she suddenly changed her mind.” Rich’s eyes widened in realization. “You were the friend she was out with the night she didn’t come home, weren’t you?”
I cringed. “Yes, but—”
“What the hell did you say to my sister?” Rich hissed in my face. He stood up, but even with my taller stature, he still cut a pretty intimidating figure.
“I have every right to talk to your sister about anything I please,” I reasoned, fighting to keep the conversation calm, but knowing I was failing with every word.
“Oh, you do, do you? You have every right to twist her mind into thinking she has to sacrifice her own financial security and that of our employees because you have something to say?”
“Rich—”
“Don’t say my name like we’re friends, you asshole. Do you even know what Carl and I are going through? Do you know how painful the past year has been for us? You don’t, do you? You ever stop to think that maybe when you found out about the trouble we’ve been having at the mill, you should have left my sister alone so she could get on with making one of the biggest decisions of her life?”
“I—”
“You wouldn’t, because you’re only thinking about yourself, aren’t you?”
“Give me five minutes to explain,” I blurted out, far louder than I’d meant to. The whole bar went quiet, watching our escalating argument with rapt attention. I could see my brothers getting out of their seats in case I needed help, but I waved them down.
“I don’t want to hear any of your bullshit excuses, Cooper,” Rich screamed at me. “I have enough to worry about without you butting in. You hear me? I don’t care. Stop making Carla care. Leave her the hell alone so she can put her focus back on what’s important. She’s dragging her feet because of you.”
> “You can’t tell me what to—”
Rich, wound up and punched me in the face, then he landed one in my stomach. I was doubled over, taken entirely by surprise when he launched another attack that never came because Pax had grabbed him from behind.
“Take this fight somewhere else, boys,” John Reilly shouted from behind the bar, beyond furious with us. The Zen master was gone, his cool calm shuttered. Rage and retaliation at the ready. I couldn’t blame him. I’d barely been let back in and had already instigated a barroom brawl.
“Stay the hell away from my sister.” Rich glowered as he forced Pax to let go of him, making his way to the door. “Leave her alone.”
Then he was gone, leaving me staring at an empty space.
His outburst left me shocked in more ways than one, but mostly it left me feeling immensely guilty.
My exhibit had been a risk for me, but it meant the world to Carla and her family’s mill. The chances of us getting enough investors from one exhibit were slim, but I could and would survive that possibility. Carla couldn’t.
I truly hadn’t taken her situation into account, not in the way I should have. I’d been happy to have her work away from the mill for the sake of my project, thinking it was also in her best interests. I was wrong. Very, very wrong.
“I am an asshole,” I muttered, nursing my stinging face.
It was time to make things right.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Carla
When my phone rang, I was fully prepared to ignore it.
“After what that asshole did at the mill, you’d think he wouldn’t call at midnight,” I said to an empty room.
My skin crawled merely thinking about Mr. Smith. I rubbed at the bruise on my wrist, a poignant reminder of why succeeding was necessary.
The call wasn’t him, and it wasn’t my brother, which by now was not a surprise. It was Owen.
Curious about what he wanted so late at night and thinking that it could only be one of two things—either he couldn’t sleep from nerves or he missed me—I answered the phone.
“Hey there, stranger. You should be asleep. We have lots of traveling to do tomorrow.”
A long silent pause sat between us.
Before Owen replied, I knew something was wrong. It was the stillness in the air.
“Owen …?” I said, my voice unsure and unsteady.
He sucked in a breath and let it out slowly. “Carla … this whole thing was a mistake. Don’t come tomorrow.”
I hesitated. “Excuse me?”
There was a moment of silence. “I was wrong to get you involved in my project. It was selfish of me.”
“Are you okay?” I asked, immediately concerned. He almost sounded as if he’d been crying.
“That doesn’t matter.”
“Have you been drinking?”
“That doesn’t matter, either.”
“Yes, it does. It lets me know if what you’re saying is bullshit or not.”
“I’m not joking or bullshitting,” he bit out. “I’m being serious.”
“If you’re so serious about all of this, then tell me how you’ve suddenly come to this conclusion.”
“I never should have …” He paused. “You know what? It doesn’t matter. It was wrong of me to ask you to do this. So now, I’m telling you not to.”
“Owen?” I fought to stay calm even as a lump caught in my throat. “You’re just nervous. That’s all. It’s nerves. That’s natural. Don’t push me away.”
“No, it’s not that at all.”
“Then tell me what’s going on,” I blazed back.
“There’s no point. I’ve wasted enough of your time as it is. You have more important things to think about right now than my stupid vanity project.”
“That’s not what your project is. Owen—”
“I’m sorry. I don’t want you there.”
I teetered between alarm and anger. Was this how it would end? Is this how it always was with him?
“Done with me already?”
“What?”
I steeled my shoulders and prayed the emotions pooling in my belly would wait until I finished the call before they suffocated me.
“I thought you were better than this, Owen. I thought we had something special.”
“We do, but …”
I swallowed so the lump in my throat would descend. “A few good lays and a few laughs and now you’re moving on. I get it.” I didn’t get it at all. I was certain he’d felt the same love for me that I had for him.
“You’ve got it all wrong. I’m doing this for you.”
“Don’t do me any favors.” I hung up the phone. The line clicked, and he was gone, leaving me stunned with disbelief. What the hell had happened?
I desperately scoured my brain for answers. I immediately went to the idea that Owen might have had a panic attack. It didn’t seem like that was the case, given what he’d previously told me about his experiences. If he’d had one, he wouldn’t have called me at all. I’d have had to go to his house and find him curled up on the floor of his room to know what was going on. He was the type of man to suffer alone.
But he had called specifically to tell me to stay away tomorrow. He didn’t want me or need me there.
It didn’t make sense. Why would he not want my assistance? He’d been the one eager for my support in the first place. What had changed? Owen had been fine yesterday. Hell, he was fine mere hours ago when we talked. I’d been the one out of sorts because of Mr. Smith. Memories of that encounter made me shudder.
I wanted to run away and hide and pretend that none of this was happening. Then I froze.
Was that it? Was this Owen’s way of telling me to stop running from my problems? Was this his way of saying that he was being used as some kind of procrastination device, and I had to stop? Had he been my excuse, which in turn became my lie? Had I chased him away?
He sounded pained. Somehow it seemed as if he was blaming himself for something. Or maybe he didn’t want to be part of my solution.
Those were the only things that made sense, but why had he decided this now? Did he not respect me enough to allow me to make my own decisions? I had chosen to work with him. I’d poured my time and energy into writing the speech for the exhibit. I was the one who spent every night pushing to make things perfect. Did that make me a burden?
If I was the one running away from my problems, it wasn’t Owen’s place to tell me to stop, and yet he had. He blamed himself for something that wasn’t his fault. I picked up my cell and tried to call him back, but it went straight to his voicemail.
“Damn it, Owen,” I muttered, panicking as the sting of tears pricked my eyes. “Don’t cry, you fool. Don’t cry. Breathe.” My words echoed through the room.
After everything that went down today, I deserved to feel emotional. Here I was, thinking I didn’t want to anger or upset Owen by telling him what had happened this afternoon. The last thing he needed was a distraction, but something else had upset him, and now he was overreacting.
That begged the question, what was I supposed to do?
I could drive over to his place and demand an explanation, but that in and of itself would be selfish. It would only hurt Owen more and further distract him from his preparation for the show. Sidetracking him was the last thing I wanted to do because succeeding at the exhibit meant Owen’s vision, his life’s work, would be realized. For me, it meant I’d be able to save the mill and somehow that paled in comparison. Hell, was saving the mill still on the table?
My heart sank. It meant I came to the sad, dreary conclusion that I could do nothing. I had to let Owen do this his way. But then, what about …
I stared out of the window, seeing nothing. What about the speech? He had a copy of mine, but that was merely the bare bones of what I would say. Yes, he knew his own work inside out, but that didn’t change the fact that he struggled to talk about it in a way that made sense to other people. How could he get around his social anxiety in
two days?
I shook my head. I couldn’t believe he was setting me aside. It didn’t make sense. The reason Owen had told me to stop helping him was so that I would focus on my own problems, and yet here I was still thinking about his. How could I not? All I could see before my eyes was a disaster waiting to happen. His mental and physical health was far more important than anything he or I had on the line, including the mill.
Errant tears fell. Putting myself in his equation wasn’t fair to either of us. While pride played a small part in me wanting to save the mill, far more importantly, it was because I loved it. I didn’t want to see it go. Not the mill. Not the forest. Not the jobs we provided. Not Christian’s daughter’s insulin. Not Owen. It broke my heart to think about it all being gone.
God, everything was going to shit. What did Owen’s phone call mean for whatever our relationship was? Were we over? Would either of us be able to face the other, knowing what had happened? Would we only be okay if he was successful at the exhibit, and the mill was saved?
Something deep inside me told me that even if that were the case, things wouldn’t be the same. That phone call had changed everything. He’d pushed me away. My heart ached at the loss of it all.
That was what I got for falling in love with someone so easily and so fast. That was what happened when I put the cart before the horse.
I wouldn't make the same mistake again, but it didn’t mean I wanted to accept Frost’s offer any more than I had before. No, after what had happened today, I wanted to accept it less.
What could I do? It looked like, despite my best efforts, I’d failed, and I’d have to accept the offer, regardless.
I collapsed into bed, still fully dressed, pulling the duvet over my head even though it was far too warm. I wanted everything to go away. I wanted my problems to disappear. I wanted Owen to hold me and tell me everything would be fine. I wanted my brother to come back home. Everything I wanted was out of reach.
My reality was a mess. What pride I had left had desperately clung to the idea that all I needed to do was wait the next few days, and everything would be okay. That was a lie I’d told myself.
Rescue Me: A Frazier Falls Novel Page 14