TIED: A Steamy Small Town Romance (Reckless Falls Book 3) Page 18

  I clamped my mouth shut to keep the words inside, unwilling to open up that Pandora's box.

  Derek was waiting for me to finish. ”Yeah,” he exhaled in a sharp rush, “you went to college. Mom and Dad let you go because they knew they still had another son who’d stay here and take care of things for them.”

  "Well don't put that guilt on me! You don't have to give in to this. Staying around, waiting for the call, sending reports on how well their investment property is doing?” I choked on the word. “Investment property? We grew up there! That's our house!”

  “I’m not putting any guilt on you," Derek said, his voice slightly softer now. "You're the baby brother, you’re spoiled, that's the way these things work."

  “Spoiled?” I laughed grimly. “That’s what you call it? Because I worked my ass off and managed to get a scholarship, that makes me spoiled? Mom and Dad didn't send me to school, I sent myself."

  Derek shrugged. And I had to keep talking just to keep myself from punching him right in the face.

  "I saw Autumn Melton today," I said, somehow unable to keep my big mouth shut. "And she was happy to see me, you know? Even invited me to a little shindig at Reese's pub with her and her coworkers.” I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned against his ugly-ass wood paneled cupboards. “So if there're no hard feelings there, maybe you'd better get over whatever the hell chip you’re even carrying around on your shoulder."

  “Just let it go?”

  “Let it fucking go, Derek.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Why the fuck not, it’s Christmas?”

  I could see by the way his eyes hardened that he was in no way finished with me, but instead of lashing out, he turned around. "Spirit of Christmas and all that crap?” he asked, “Sure, why the fuck not?” He rummaged around in one of the drawers and pulled out a clumsily wrapped package. "Got you something."

  I looked down at it balefully.

  "It's not a bomb," Derek coughed. "And it's not going to jump out and bite you. I was just blowing off steam, Cole. It's been a while.” His voice dropped lower like the word pained him to say. “Maybe I just missed you was all."

  I took another look at my brother’s face. Time had worn deep lines into grooves on his forehead, and there with the hints of shadow under his eyes I wondered if he had been sleeping well. I wondered if he had anyone taking care of him right now.

  "I got you something too,” I said, reaching into my duffel bag and pulling out the package. I hesitated before handing it to him, all of the sudden regretting the gift I had chosen back in New York. I had totally been showing off when I bought him the watch that matched mine. I wanted my big brother to be impressed. I wanted him to raise his eyebrows and turn the corners of his mouth down and make some remark about his baby brother, the big spender.

  But as I held it in my hand, my gift just kind of seemed tawdry, and cheap. What the hell was Derek going to do with a watch? What he really needed was something else entirely.

  But it was all I had, so I held it out to him. "Hey, thanks," my older brother remarked, taking the package and holding it in his hands.

  We both stood there awkwardly.

  "It's still only Christmas Eve," I observed.

  "So, we should wait till tomorrow or something?"

  “Fuck it. We're grown-ups now, right? We can open our presents whenever we damn well please."

  Derek chuckled. “Mom and Dad aren't even here to tell us otherwise," he said.

  I grinned at him, feeling that old, familiar bond. The two of us conspiring against my parents, the family order settling into its natural alignment. ”Let's do it."

  But Derek held out his hand. ”We should celebrate the moment,” he said, smiling wider than I’d seen him smile yet. “But I don't drink anymore so I don't have anything celebratory, except...” He reached over and rummaged in the fridge. “Orange juice?”

  I laughed as he poured two tumblers out like shots. "An orange juice toast to commemorate the season."

  We clinked our glasses together and knocked back the juice like fake frat boys. Then both set to work silently opening our presents.

  Derek pulled his watch from the gift-wrapped box. “Hey, thanks. My watch just broke, actually. Good timing." He put it on without taking note of the finely tuned Swiss mechanism, or the smooth, fluid sweep of the second hand. He slung it on like it was an old Timex, and for some reason that made me far happier than any reaction I had imagined.

  "Okay. My turn," I said.

  I tore open the package and blinked to see a pair of gloves.

  Derek craned his neck to look at them. ”I figured you’d forget yours. You’re always fucking forgetting to pack gloves. And then your mooching ass wants to borrow mine. So I thought I’d preempt that.”

  I blinked, struck by the thought he’d given his gift. He wasn’t trying to impress me. He just thought about what I might need. I didn’t know what to do, so I punched him in the arm. “You know I'm going to lose these immediately.”

  Derek nodded. “Oh I know, don't worry, they’re not that expensive, so I don’t give a fuck.”

  “You're right, you know. I totally did forget my gloves.”

  Derek raised his orange juice and silently toasted me.

  I cleared my throat. I hadn’t talked to my brother like this in months. Years, really. And I wasn’t ready to finish yet. The looming need to get to the bar, shake some hands, make my deal was still there in my head but it was surprisingly easy to shove to the side in favor of spending more time with him.

  Or maybe I could do both? "So, hey, uh, I thought I might head out to Autumn’s thing,” I said. “You want to come?”

  Derek’s mouth twisted oddly. “Bad idea for me to be at a bar. Especially around the holidays," he said.

  I winced. "Sorry man."

  He shook his head. "No need to be sorry, the holidays are hard. I think I’ll just have to sit this one out. I got my two-year chip last weekend.”

  "I know you did," I said softly

  “Yeah. So.”

  I fucking hated myself for asking, but... “Can you, uh, give me a ride then?"

  Derek rolled his eyes. ”What? Your fancy driver doesn’t want to be seen at a shitty dive bar in the sticks?”

  It was my turn to roll my eyes. "He's not on the clock right now."

  He started rifling through the junk drawer. ”Sure I'll drive you, whatever. If I let you borrow my car you'd probably wreck it anyway, forgetting how to drive in the snow and all that."

  "Well, you see, in the city, we have these things called snowplows."

  "Yeah, whatever, they'll get to it. What about when you come home? You want to call me or something?"

  A picture of Autumn flashed across my mind, just a fleeting impression of her lips, the memory of her kiss seared into my flesh as deep as any scar. I shook my head to clear it. "With any luck, I'll find my own way home."

  He raised an expertly skeptical eyebrow. ”Autumn?”

  There was no use lying. I was certain my hopes were written all over my face. ”Yeah."

  Derek cocked his head to the side. ”You know she hates your guts, right?”

  I looked sharply at my brother, but he was already gathering his keys, having stated that fact as baldly as he always did. Derek had no idea how to lie, or how to sugarcoat things, so if he said something, you knew it was the truth.

  I winced and looked down at my hands. She hadn’t seemed like she hated my guts. She’d invited me after all. But why would Derek lie when he knew how we left things, how broken I’d been when she left me? What if he was right? Why did I even think I had a chance again? Why was I even considering going after her tonight? We were done, over. If she wanted things to continue, she could've called me, come down to Philly, stayed in a dorm room.

  If she truly loved me, distance should not have mattered.

  And if I saw her tonight, I was going to say that to her face.

  Chapter Four

  Autum
n

  “Did you pull in and then back out again, or am I just really drunk?” my mom asked me as I returned with the eggs.

  “You’re drunk,” I said lightly, kissing her on the cheek. “Here are the eggs.”

  “No,” my mom slurred. “You definitely pulled into the driveway and then peeled back out again like your hair was on fire.”

  “Left my phone,” I lied.

  My mom narrowed her eyes at me and I widened mine at her. My father wandered into the kitchen, took one look at the women in his life having an epic staring contest, and then turned around and walked back out.

  “Fine,” my mother declared. “Have your secrets. Get in here and help me with this batch, we’re falling behind.”

  I nodded, grateful for the distraction. Baking huge, assembly line batches of cookies should be enough to banish the glimpse of Cole’s dimple from my brain. My heart rate hadn’t yet returned to normal, and I was grateful for the steamy heat of the kitchen to disguise the blush in my cheeks.

  I measured out the flour and the rest of the dry ingredients and held out the bowl for my mom to dump in the wet. “Grandpa’s going to be so happy,” she clucked.

  I grinned. “Hopefully it’ll cheer him up,” I said. “Otherwise I have no idea how I’m supposed to handle this property deal for him. He seems hell bent on saying no to everything I come up with.”

  “That’s because he doesn’t want to sell. Not really.”

  “I get that. It’s sad,” I sighed. “But it’s for the right reasons.”

  “Nursing homes are so expensive,” my mom seethed. “I hate that it’s come to this, but he just can’t stay in that house alone anymore. We need the money.”

  “We know and he knows, but he doesn’t have to like it.”

  “That’s why we’re making a big batch just for him,” my mother explained. “Gramps always does better with a belly full of sweets.” She grabbed a spoon and started mixing the batter. I pulled out the baking sheets, and my mind took the moment’s quiet to flit away from my upcoming role as power of attorney for my elderly grandfather and right back to my encounter in the convenience store.

  Fucking Cole. What the hell was he doing here?

  Eight years had done nothing to lessen the effect he had on me. If anything, he was even more gorgeous now, broader with a more manly set to his jaw. His hair no longer flopped boyishly into his face, but I knew that if I reached up and combed my fingers through those chestnut waves, they would still feel like silk. His hair was the same but his body... that had grown up in the best way possible. Even though he had been covered nearly head to toe against the weather, there had been no mistaking the way he’d filled out... quite nicely.

  “Are you finished with your wrapping?” my mother asked, abruptly breaking into my thoughts. She was dropping the batter out in measured spoonfuls onto the greased baking sheets.

  “Uh,” I stammered, feeling like she had caught me in the middle of masturbating. I grabbed another baking sheet and mimicked her movements just to avoid her eyes. “I just have to wrap Dad’s.”

  “What’d you get me?” Dad called from the living room.

  “Lump of coal!” I called back.

  My dad muttered something about ingratitude, and my mom laughed and lowered her voice. “What did you get him?”

  “A leather-bound first edition of the Lord of the Rings trilogy,” I whispered back.

  My mom widened her eyes. “Fancy!”

  “Ebay.”

  “He’s going to love it.”

  “I hope so. Hope he doesn’t think he has too many Tolkien books already.” My father was a huge J.R.R. Tolkien fan and had a shelf in the basement devoted to all of his works.

  “Trust me, he won’t.” My mother sniffed. “I might. But he won’t.” She grabbed my finished sheet of cookies and opened the oven door, letting out a blast of heat.

  I laughed. My father and Cole had bonded over the Lord of the Rings movies when they came out. We’d watched the movies as a family, Cole and I snuggled under a blanket, his hand in mine. I used to love listening to his heart start racing under my ear during the exciting parts.

  I missed that.

  I missed him.

  Why was I missing him?

  “I saw Cole Granger at the Nice 'n' Easy,” I suddenly blurted.

  My mother shut the oven and froze in place.

  “He looked good,” I went on.

  My mother still said nothing.

  Fuck this out-of-place nostalgia, where was it coming from? It must be the Christmas season. That’s all. I needed to screw my head back on straight... “He’s still an asshole, though,” I continued, as much for my benefit as hers.

  My mother finally made a noise, although whether it was happy, angry or sad I had no idea.

  But I was off and running with the rush of picking at an old wound. “He didn’t even call or anything, just fucking showed up out of the blue.”

  My mother cleared her throat. “Maybe he’s here for Christmas.”

  “I hope it’s the first fucking time and he hasn’t been coming for eight years and just not looked me up!”

  “Why, Autumn? What would that have done?”

  “Are you really taking his side?”

  My mom wiped a damp strand of hair away from her face, leaving a streak of white flour across her cheek. “Cole was a smart boy,” she said diplomatically. “Even though he could be really stupid too.”

  “Stupid, Mom? He was an asshole. And he probably still is an asshole.”

  “We’ve been over this, Autumn.”

  But my words were bearing down like a freight train, the same refrain I’d been spouting for eight years. The span of time had done nothing to soothe the raw wound in my heart that still ached every time I thought of Cole. “He’s an asshole. He said he loved me, promised me in fact. Yeah? Well if he loved me, he shouldn’t have left without me, goddammit.”

  “Autumn!”

  “Sorry for swearing, Mom.”

  “I don’t give a shit about you swearing!” she wiped her hair back again, leaving a twin white streak on her other cheek like war paint. “I’m tired of listening to you delude yourself!”

  I took an involuntary step back. In all the years since Cole left Reckless Falls — left me — my mother had always listened to me as I ranted and raved against my first love. This was the first time she had ever said anything about delusion.

  And now I was pissed.

  “I’m deluded now, huh? Thanks a lot, Mom.”

  “Autumn,” my mom sighed, pressing her fingers to the bridge of her nose. Flour now caked her face in four different places, but I was feeling too spiteful to let her know. “You’ve created this sort of an alternate reality where leaving to go to college was all Cole’s idea, but honey? Didn’t you encourage him to go for it?”

  I swallowed. “I did, but when it came down to choosing which college to go to...”

  “You tried to trap him.”

  “What?”

  “You told him to apply!” she exploded. “He’s the first kid in his family to ever get to go to college and you were so proud of him! You told him to apply, he got accepted to a place that gave him a full ride, and then you hated him for taking your advice!”

  I took a deep breath. “He shouldn’t have left if he loved me. Because he chose to leave instead of staying close to home, close to me... We could have had a family by now and I know how badly you want grandchildren and...” I wiped my eye and was surprised to see that my fingers came away wet. I was crying without even realizing.

  “Did you love him?”

  “Yes! You know that!”

  “I know, honey. And if you really loved him the way you said you did, you needed to believe in that love and not try to put him to the test. Now, honey, I love you more than life itself, but you were kind of a little shit to him back then. Putting him on the spot like that and giving an ultimatum. I raised you better than that, and you’ve grown up and gotten better, b
ut on this issue honey, I’m afraid you’re not the victim.” Her harsh words were softened by the love in her eyes as she took hold of my shoulders and looked me in the eye. “You shouldn’t have tried to make him prove his love to you by giving up his future.”

  The oven timer buzzed.

  Something hollow echoed in my chest. I opened my mouth and then shut it, waiting for words to rise up in my defense.

  But I couldn’t find a single one.

  My mother took a deep breath, let me go and grabbed her oven mitt. “It worked out the way it was supposed to. though. In the end.” She opened the oven and pulled out the rack of chocolate chip cookies. “That boy was too arrogant and good-looking for his own good. He was only going to cause you trouble.” She scraped a cookie off the baking sheet with a spatula and held it out to me. “Here honey, have a cookie. It’ll make you feel better.”

  It was still scalding hot from the oven and burned the roof of my mouth, but I devoured it anyway, hoping she was right.

  Chapter Five

  Cole

  The dulcet strains of Bing Crosby’s “White Christmas” filtered out into the snow-covered lot. I shut the door of Derek’s car and stood there, listening to the hum of voices and the occasional shout of laughter.

  In my head, I knew each person who was in there.

  I heard Mr. Reese, Brynn and Callum’s grumpy, overworked father with a nose as red and pitted as a raspberry, shouting good-natured insults to the drunken revelers.

  I heard a laugh that sounded exactly like a ‘ho ho ho’ and immediately grinned to think of Jasper Beals who always grew out his white beard and wore a red jacket every Christmas just so he could freak out little kids who thought that he was Santa.

  That wild cackle that sounded like a Halloween witch had to be Flora Feathergill, the owner of the antiques place that attracted all of the rich yuppies from New York.

  I knew this town. I knew these people. I grew up here.

  I wasn’t one of the visiting yuppies from New York, no matter what my rented car and expensive watch might say. I was a local. I belonged here as much as any of them.