Hometown Troublemaker (Havenbrook Book 2)

by Brighton Walsh

  At some point, the whispers around her had gone from talk of her and Nash to discussion of her sister and Nash. How great it was to have Nat home, and how cute she and Nash were together. Just like old times, and wasn’t that just fantastic?

  The murmurs around her blurred together until all she could hear was the whoosh, whoosh, whoosh of her heartbeat in her ears. Of course he’d managed to get Nat there when Rory had failed. They’d been friends nearly all their lives, and Nat actually liked him. Though, from the way her sister was staring up at him, gratitude and something else shining in her eyes, maybe it was something more than just like.

  The thought had a volcano erupting inside her, bile rising up her throat. Rory had no claim on him. Had, in fact, told him in no uncertain terms that she didn’t want one. She had no idea if he was even looking for a relationship, but if he was, he deserved to be with someone like Nat. Someone young and vibrant and carefree. Not someone who was old enough to be hit on by his father. Not a divorced mother of two who was still stumbling through life, trying to figure out who she was.

  She blinked twice and refocused, but the trio no longer stood where she stared. And she certainly wasn’t going to search them out. She needed a break out of earshot from all the murmured approval of having Nat back in town. Just five minutes away so she could breathe. So she could get her shit together, and then she could keep on pretending.

  She nearly made it to the back porch steps before someone called her name. Maybe she could feign like she hadn’t heard them and just keep right on walking? She increased her pace and kept her head down.

  “Rory!” The voice was close enough now that she recognized it as Gran. “Sugar, hang on just a minute.”

  Rory’s shoulders sagged, and she halted in her movements. If just about anyone else had approached her, she wouldn’t have thought twice about avoiding and ignoring, but not Gran.

  She took a deep breath, schooled her expression, and turned around. “Hey, Gran, you havin’ a good time?”

  Gran reached up and held Rory’s cheeks between her hands. “I don’t know how you did it, sugar, but I’ll never be able to thank you for gettin’ Nat home for this. Such a sweet thing you did, throwin’ this party for me, but this…” She shook her head, a look of pure elation on her face as she glanced over her shoulder. Rory followed Gran’s gaze, though she wished she hadn’t have.

  Nat and Nash stood under the huge maple tree, Nat holding herself up against Nash’s side as the two laughed so hard, tears were streaming down their faces. Had he ever laughed like that with her?

  “I know y’all don’t see eye to eye,” Gran said, “but I’m so grateful you did something so special for this old lady. So happy to have all my granddaughters here, even if just for a little while.”

  Rory couldn’t speak to tell Gran that she hadn’t had any involvement at all in getting Nat home. That, because her sister hated her so much she wouldn’t even return an impersonal text message, someone else had had to step in to get the youngest Haven home. Rory was too worried her voice would give her away if she tried to get the words out.

  “You okay, sugar?” Gran asked. “You look a little pale.”

  She swallowed down her tears and cleared her throat, her lips shaking as she held her smile. “I’m fine. Just a little hot is all. I’m gonna stick my head in the freezer for a minute. I’ll be right back.”

  There was no way Gran believed that pile of garbage—especially since she knew Rory better than almost anyone—but Rory was fresh out of lies. Worse, she was tired of offering them up every time something wasn’t perfect just to keep up the facade.

  “Momma! Ella stole my earbuds, and she won’t give ’em back!” Ava stormed up, her voice loud enough to turn a dozen heads in the yard.

  “I did not!” Ella shot back. “You prolly lost ’em and just wanna blame me! You’re always tryin’ to get me in trouble.”

  “Girls,” Rory snapped, low and firm. “That’s quite enough of that.” She ushered them up the back porch steps where they could take care of this inside, away from prying eyes and ears. Seemed no matter what part of her life was in turmoil, she couldn’t escape that.

  Turning back to Gran, she said, “Go on and enjoy your party while I handle this. We’ll be back soon.”

  As desperate as she was to get away, to escape for some solitude where she could crack in peace, she had a job to do. Right now, she had to play Momma and sister and daughter. Granddaughter and hostess and whatever other hat she needed to put on to get the job done.

  There was always later. After the party was cleaned up, after the girls were in bed… When it was just her and a glass of wine and she could finally be just Rory, she’d allow that mask to slip away.

  “You cannot just slink off home, Rory.” Mac rolled her eyes, her arms crossed over her chest.

  The last straggler had finally left the party about an hour ago, and Rory was exhausted. After the day she’d had, she just wanted a hot bath and her bed. “I’m pretty sure I can.”

  “Your sister’s right, sugar,” Gran said as she nibbled on a plate of leftover snacks. “You did all this work—you deserve to celebrate.”

  “I did celebrate. That was the whole point of the party.”

  “No, what you did was refill the food a million times, topped off everyone’s drinks, corralled your girls and refereed their fights, and made sure everyone else celebrated,” Mac said dryly. “Just like every other freakin’ party.”

  And at every other party, no one had ever had an issue with her going home at the end of the night. No one had ever demanded she go out for a second celebration. But suddenly now, when her very sanity rested on escaping to her own damn house to find some peace, it was an issue? She’d clearly done something to piss off Karma.

  “It sounds like a lovely time, and I’m sure y’all’ll have fun,” she said. “But I’ve got the girls tonight, and it’s already after ten.” Not only past their bedtime, but also well past the cutoff time for patrons under the age of twenty-one to enter The Willow Tree.

  “Daddy and I can take the girls while y’all go enjoy yourselves.” Momma smoothed a hand up and down Rory’s back and smiled at her. “Your sister and Gran are right. You deserve a little break. You’ve been workin’ on this for days, not countin’ all the plannin’ leadin’ up to it.”

  “I’m not takin’ no for an answer, sugar,” Gran said, her eyebrow raised as if challenging Rory to try it.

  “Y’all comin’ or what?” Nat yelled from across the yard where she stood with Will, Finn, and Nash. “I’m itchin’ to see this fancy new place, and God knows I need a fucking drink after this long in Havenbrook.”

  Momma sighed, closed her eyes, and shook her head. “She’s lucky her daddy’s already inside,” she mumbled. Then louder, “Did you misplace your tact on your travels, Nat?”

  “Sorry, Momma, but you know me and tact aren’t really friends.”

  Nash said something to Nat then, too low for Rory to hear, and Nat tipped her head back in a booming laugh. Rory’s chest tightened in response—the same reaction she’d been having all day and night as she’d watched her sister and Nash chum it up, talking and telling inside jokes and holding each other up through their laughter.

  Rory hadn’t had a moment alone since she’d gotten that first glimpse of Nat across the yard. Which meant she hadn’t been able to work through any of the bubbling emotions this day had dredged up. But, yeah, sure, why not go hang out with her sister who couldn’t stand her and the man she was sleeping with in secret and get a front row seat to their obvious connection?

  “Y’all go on now,” Momma said. “The girls are already crashed out on the sofas inside anyway. You can pick ’em up in the mornin’.” She turned to Rory and patted her cheek. “Enjoy yourself, sweetheart.”

  Mac hooked her arm through Rory’s and tugged her out of their momma’s hold. “There’ll be a never-endin’ glass of wine for you. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “Better be somet
hing a whole lot stronger than wine,” Rory muttered as she stared at the retreating forms of Nash and Nat.

  His arm was hooked around her sister’s neck as they strolled toward his truck. Nat looked up at him through her laughter, and Rory’s stomach sank even further. The two of them just…fit.

  Rory and Nash were a lot of things—volatile and combustible and explosive. And she’d known from the beginning that they didn’t make sense together.

  What she hadn’t known was just how bad it’d hurt to realize he and her sister did.

  AN HOUR LATER, Rory was still desperate to go home. The Willow Tree wasn’t huge by any means, which meant that no matter where she stood, Nat’s laughter followed her. The sound inevitably caught Rory’s attention, and she’d glance over to spy a glimpse of her youngest sister surrounded by throngs of friends. Nash and Drew and Nola. Will and Finn and a dozen other people who hadn’t seen Nat in years, all of them smiling and enjoying every minute of being in her presence.

  But that was Nat. She was a freaking magnet, drawing people in, and she’d always been like that. Rory was just buzzed enough to admit—at least to herself—that she’d always been a little jealous of that because that gene had skipped right over her. Sure, she could gain a crowd’s attention, and she had no trouble getting people to listen to her and do her bidding if she so chose. But that had more to do with her ability to command a room than it did with any ounce of charisma.

  “Dang, girl, you need another one already?” Mac asked, lifting her chin toward Rory’s drink.

  Rory glanced down at her empty glass. No, she absolutely should not get another one—she’d already had three—but the alcohol had been a passable bandage for the current shitshow that was her life. It’d dulled the emotions ricocheting through her. Had numbed the tightness in her chest and settled the swarm of bees in her stomach that’d kept her company all day. “You promised to keep my drink filled.”

  “So I did.” Not bothering to try to catch Nola’s attention to get a refill, Mac slipped around behind the bar to mix Rory another drink. “You wanna tell me what’s goin’ on?”

  Rory lifted her eyes to meet Mac’s. “Well, I’m here only because you made me come, and I’d like to go home now.”

  “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” Mac leveled Rory with a pointed stare.

  Oh no. No. Nope. No way. She was not going there. And definitely not while they were in a public place. And most certainly not while she was this close to say-way-too-much drunk.

  “’Fraid I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about.”

  “Okay, well, how far back should we go so I can refresh your memory?”

  “Mac, don’t—” Rory started, but her words got swallowed by the too-loud college-aged girls who sat down next to her at the crowded bar.

  “Nash’s so damn hot,” Blondie slurred.

  The redhead nodded vigorously as she sucked up the last remnants of her bright-green drink. “Truth. He could have a wife and three kids at home, but if he came knockin’ on my door again, I’d let him bang me like a screen door in a hurricane.”

  “You’re so bad!” Blondie chortled, then froze, her eyes going wide as she squeezed Redhead’s forearm. “Wait, what do you mean ‘again’?”

  “I never told you about that?”

  “Uh, no. Spill!”

  “Last year, right after this place opened, I came to check it out. I was really drunk, and he offered to take me home, and, well— Oh! I love this song!” Redhead yelled, then pulled her friend to the middle of the small dance floor.

  Well, that was just great. Of course, she’d known Nash hadn’t been celibate before her, and it wasn’t something she spent much time thinking or worrying about—after all, she had a history too. But knowing he’d obviously slept with other women, and having those other women’s perky boobs thrown right in her face were two totally different things. Sort of hard not to compare her mom-of-two body, complete with a map of stretch marks and an extra fifteen pounds she’d never managed to lose after Ella to their youthful perfection.

  The redhead—the one who’d apparently already bedded Nash—was a stunner. Not someone she recognized, so probably from a neighboring town. Long, auburn waves fell down her sleek back, bared in her low-cut shirt. Of course she could wear something like that sans bra—she hadn’t breastfed two babies. Rory dared to walk around home without a bra on, but she wouldn’t dream of going out in public like that, even on her deathbed. And the girl’s ass? Rory’s hadn’t ever been that tiny or perfect, and she had the cellulite to prove it.

  “Um, nope,” Mac said. “We’re not goin’ there. I’m gonna cut you off if you’re headed down Mope Street.”

  Rory couldn’t take her gaze off the dancing girls as she catalogued every thing that was perfect about them and compared it with all her flaws. “I’m not mopin’. I’m just…thinkin’.”

  “Mhmm, thinkin’ about how you stack up to those two.”

  “They’re nearly half my age.”

  “With half your IQ. Nash would never go for anyone who didn’t challenge him. And that girl, bless her heart, but she’s so dumb, if she threw herself at the floor, she’d miss.”

  A startled laugh flew out of Rory, and she twisted back to face Mac. It wasn’t until she noticed Mac’s raised eyebrows that the rest of what she’d said registered. Nash. She’d specifically said Nash.

  Rory gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “You knew?”

  Mac lifted a single shoulder. “Course I knew. Will would, too, if she didn’t have Finn attached to her face every second of the day.”

  Rory rested her elbows on the bar, dropped her head into her hands, and groaned. “For how long?”

  “I had my suspicions that day he stopped by town hall, but I didn’t know for sure until yesterday when I saw your reaction after listenin’ to those bitches at the store.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Was it really any wonder she needed a break? Hearing she had no hope of keeping Nash, finding out her ex-husband proposed to her former best friend, being hit on by the father of the guy she was sleeping with, and having the sister who wouldn’t so much as return a text suddenly show up? Certainly no one expected her to be rock solid after the wringer she’d been put through in the past thirty-six hours.

  “They were talkin’ outta their asses,” Mac said.

  “Which ones?”

  “All of ’em.”

  That was easy for Mac to say—she wasn’t on the receiving end of it. And even if she were, there was no way her confidence would be shaken. She was as solid as they came, completely and utterly comfortable in her own skin.

  “Bye, y’all!” Nat yelled from where she stood by the door. “It’s been real, but I hope I don’t see y’all again for years.”

  Laughter sounded around the bar as Rory glanced over, her gaze locking immediately with Nash’s. He stared at her, something she couldn’t decipher passing through his eyes, before Nat snagged his attention once again. He glanced down at her and nodded, and Rory forced herself to turn away.

  She couldn’t watch them leave together. Not after the day she’d had. Despite her husband fucking her best friend, she wasn’t under the impression that Nash would do something so cruel as to sleep with her sister. Even so, that didn’t stop the pit from forming in her stomach. He meshed so perfectly with Nat—everything between them was easy and fluid, not rife with complications and roadblocks. They didn’t bicker, didn’t argue. They just were.

  How could she possibly expect to compete with that level of chemistry? She couldn’t, and she didn’t even know why she’d tried. Those women Rory had overheard in the store were right—she didn’t stand a chance in hell of holding his attention in the short term. Never mind the long term that she’d started to crave.

  “I think I’m gonna go.” Rory slipped off the barstool and shouldered her purse. Needed to go, actually. She’d held it together for hours, and she was pretty damn close to losing it.

  “No…sta
y. Don’t let those girls run you outta here,” Mac said.

  “They’re not.” Rory held up a hand at the skeptical look Mac shot her. “Swear.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “You don’t have to, but that doesn’t change the fact that I’m still leavin’.”

  “Fine, I’ll drive you.”

  “No, I—”

  “Hello, my beautiful sisters!” Will rested her forearms on the bar top next to Rory and leaned forward, her eyes glazed and her smile a little too wide—a sure sign she was well past tipsy. “Nash is havin’ a couple people over to the warehouse. Finn and I were gonna head over. Y’all wanna come?”

  Rory dropped her gaze to her feet so she wouldn’t be tempted to seek him out. She couldn’t look at them again, not right now.

  “For fuck’s sake, Will, read the damn room,” Mac snapped.

  Will glanced around, confusion on her face. “What do you mean? This room?”

  Rory waved her hand through the air as if swatting away Mac’s concerns. “It’s nothing. Y’all go and have fun. I’m pretty beat, so I’m gonna head home.”

  “It’s not nothing, Rory, and stop pretendin’ it is. This is us you’re talkin’ to. If you can’t be real with us, who can you be real with?”

  Her breath caught in her throat as her mind conjured up the answer without hesitation. Nash. She could be real with Nash—she had been real with Nash. The thought brought a sudden rush of tears to her eyes, her throat burning as she tried desperately to hold them back. She couldn’t cry here. She wouldn’t.

  Mac took one look at her and gave a brisk nod. “Let’s go. We can sneak out the back.”

  “What’s happenin’?” Will asked. “Y’all headed to Nash’s?”

  “I know you’re drunk, so I’m gonna give you a little leeway here, but open your damn eyes, girl! If you spent more than five minutes detached from Finn’s mouth, you’d see that our sister needs us. Rory.” Mac waved a hand in her direction. “The one who never needs anything needs us now.”