CHAPTER THREE
Little brother?
Well, well. I had to admit, it was nice to get those hot spotlights off of me for half a minute. They were getting a bit warm.
“What are you doing here?” Nick said under his breath, pulling off a black leather apron in one tug as he glanced around at his patrons, moving to the end of the bar opposite Leo, his jaw tight with something fierce that wasn’t just anger. No, that look ran deeper. Like the kind of deep wound only family can inflict.
Lanie had reached his side and had a hand on one arm like she was going to single-handedly hold him back.
Leo finally dropped his arms, resting his hands on the counter.
“Work,” he said. “I got a job here.”
“Here where?” Nick said.
“Bartending at a restaurant, for one,” Leo said.
“In Charmed?” Nick asked, his eyes narrowing. “Why?”
Leo blew out a breath, holding on to the counter as if it might keep his answers levelheaded.
“Don’t you dare say me,” Nick continued, leaning in slightly. “After eighteen years—” He shook his head. “No. I didn’t even know if you were alive, and now you want to drop out of the sky and be all Hey, little brother with me? Fuck, no. You walked away from being my brother. You don’t get to come play this card with me now.” He tied the apron back on with a yank. “I’m busy. I’m working. Go—be you somewhere else.”
Somehow, he’d managed to miss me until that very moment, and now his gaze bounced from Leo to me.
“You got married.”
It was more of an accusation than a question, and Leo’s eyes dropped to me like he’d forgotten I was there. I wished everyone else could do that. There were two young guys eyeing me like fresh bacon, an old man shaking his head like I’d disappointed him, and Katrina-the-event-planner whispering to three other women while smiling at me.
I didn’t care how much this thing cost Jeremy’s mother; I was burning it. Okay, maybe I wasn’t burning it; maybe I was just dumping it in a corner for a few days before having it cleaned and shipped to her, but in my head there was a bonfire from hell.
“No—this is—Anastasia,” Leo said, as if that explained it.
I shook my head, eyes closed. “I’m not Anastasia.”
“She needed a ride,” Leo said, dismissively.
“From her own—” Nick began, glancing at his wife. “Same wedding Allie went to?”
Good God, didn’t anyone else get married around here, ever?
“Yes,” I said. “I bailed.” I held my arms up and turned in a circle. “Everyone who is curious,” I called out, “I bailed on my wedding. I was that girl. Judge at will. Now enjoy your lunch!” I turned back to Nick. “He saw I needed help and gave me a ride. That was nice. Can I use your phone?”
I’m pretty sure I’d hit the bottom that’s under the bottom. Nick chuckled humorlessly, turning to go back to the kitchen.
“I’m sure he did,” he said on his way. “He recognized a kindred spirit.”
“Nick—” Leo began.
“Walk away, Leo,” he said, his back to us as he turned the corner. “You’re familiar with that. Whatever your name is, ma’am, I’d keep going if he’s staying here.”
* * * *
It was like a bomb had gone off, leaving us in the aftershocks.
Lanie said she’d be back and quick-stepped it to check on her husband. I stood awkwardly behind a sullen Leo, not knowing what to do. I needed to call my brother, like fifteen minutes ago, but I also felt a weird obligation to help this guy. At least be on his side. With the exception of Gabi, still waiting on her order and subtly giving us the side-eye, the other patrons had smartly either left or moved down to the other end of the bar during the drama, giving us a wide berth. Leo stared at the countertop as if he could climb into it. I could feel the heat coming off of him and I wasn’t even touching him.
And why did I want to?
Because he’d helped me. And, arrogant or not, now this big rock of a man who’d just told me how to kill someone with my shoe looked like his insides had been rearranged.
“Are—are you okay?” I asked finally, crossing my arms before they did something ridiculous.
“I’m fine,” he snapped, his voice growly as he pulled a phone from his pocket. “Go do—whatever it is you’re doing.”
My hackles went up.
“Excuse me?” I said. “Just because he dismissed you like a jerk doesn’t make it okay to pay it forward.” He turned a look on me that said What the fuck in about a hundred ways, so I just held up my hands. “You know what? You did something for me. I was just trying to be nice back, but I have no dog in this hunt and as you pointed out earlier, we have our own shit to deal with. Have a nice life.”
I turned on my heel, nearly busting it, forgetting that said heel was nothing but an ice pick. One strong hand wrapped around my arm like a vise.
“Careful,” he said in my ear, closer than I expected. “I told you those things were dangerous.”
Shit. I yanked my arm free, glaring up at him. “You’re just lucky I got rid of all the bobby pins.”
There was almost the hint of a tug of a smirk there in that stupid sexy mouth of his. Just enough to piss me off. Then his eyes—they went softer. That kind of soft that dark eyes can do that makes people buy puppies.
No! No puppies!
Lanie poked her head around the corner and waved at me to come. I saluted him.
“Like I said,” I threw over my shoulder as I hightailed it around the bar.
God, what was with me and irritatingly sexy asshole alpha males? What was the attraction? Knuckle dragging? It didn’t matter. I didn’t have time or enough energy left in my body to worry about Leo. Our weird little journey had ended. I had to figure out where the next one began.
“Here’s Allie’s desk,” Lanie said, pointing when we turned through a short hall into an office. “Help yourself to the phone.”
“Is—your husband okay?” I asked. “I mean, it’s none of my business, but I feel like I’m somehow swirling in the middle of it. I swear I didn’t know that my guy was anyone’s brother—I thought he worked here or something.”
My guy?
I’d just said that. What the living hell was wrong with me?
Lanie chuckled. “Yeah. He’s—Nick will be fine. He just has to let it roll off him. This is a big sore spot with him.” She widened her eyes. “He has a few of those.”
I scoffed. “Don’t we all.”
She winked and disappeared. And just like that, I was alone.
Alone with my thoughts, my breathing, my heart still pounding in my ears, and the need for normal. Jeremy’s ring caught the light as I reached for the phone.
My eyes filled with tears as I remembered the proposal. Not the typical grandiose Jeremy-style event I’d expected from him, asking me in front of a million people so I couldn’t say no. He’d surprised me that night. Bringing me out to the patio behind the big greenhouse, a place in my comfort zone, going to one knee under the stars.
It was moments like that that had kept me with him. The moments that showed he knew me, the moments of pure raw joy that I’d think of every time I’d look at him—until he’d decide to be a dick again.
I sniffed and swiped under my eyes for the hundredth time, picking up the phone. I was done living my life on a yo-yo, putting up with the crap times in order to bask in the glorious ones.
Breathe in. One deep breath preceded another as I listened to a second ring and the beginning of a thi—
“Hello.”
My stomach flipped at the stress and the worry and the ready-to-rip-someone-a-new-ass-for-bothering-him-right-now tone in my brother’s voice.
Breathe out.
“Thatcher.”
There was under-the-breath cursing, the sounds of shuffling, and a loud bang of a truck door shutting in my ear before I heard his voice again.
“Micah, where the fuck are you?”
Nothing like getting to the point.
“Thatcher, I’m sorry,” I said softly, shutting my eyes tight.
Where my “little” brother, big six-foot-two bear Jackson, was my soul, my older brother, Thatcher, was my heart. He was the man of the house after our dad died, taking on all he could at the ripe old age of eleven. I was nine, Jackson was seven, and when our mom had to work all day on the farm and take side jobs at night to put food on the table, Thatcher took care of us. I was always better with that, anyway.
My mother and I—we had a strained relationship up till the day she died. Namely because she was a professional manipulator and I grew tired of watching her pull strings to get what she wanted. My dad, then my brothers, they all catered to her moods and desires. Even as a kid, I knew that I didn’t want to be her, and I should have known that that meant I had the tough road ahead. I’d take Thatcher over her as a parent any day of the week. As a result, he was an old soul before he even hit puberty, too wise sometimes for his own good as a man. His ex-wife could attest to that.
But he was the one I most wanted to be proud of me. And the one I kept disappointing.
I heard a sigh that was probably part relief, part wanting to throttle me. I was familiar with the tone. I could picture him closing his eyes and counting to ten.
“What happened?” he said finally.
“Are you alone?” I asked.
“For the moment,” he said. “I’m in my truck. Jeremy and Jackson are talking on the porch.”
“Whose porch?”
“Your porch!” he said, sounding exasperated. “We’re here waiting for you.”
I grabbed a pen to have something in my hand to squeeze.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
It’s not my porch.
“How is Jeremy?”
I heard a scoff. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously!” I said. “I didn’t marry him—that doesn’t mean I don’t worry about him.”
“Micah, what happened?”
I blew out a breath. How did I explain it? That I showed my true colors? Went back to my old ways? I knew that’s what he was thinking, and to be completely honest I wondered, myself. The little niggling insecurity that had crept into my psyche over time was poking at me, dangling that question like a scribbled Post-it left on the fridge.
“I don’t know, Thatcher,” I said quietly, hearing the emotion wobble my words as it squeezed my throat. In my mind, I saw Jeremy’s face last night, kissing my forehead, throwing back a foreign-sounding Love you, Micah. The same image I’d seen all night as I stared at the ceiling. “All I can say is that one minute I was standing there waiting to walk down the aisle, then suddenly it was all pretend. Like something plucked me out of my real life and deposited me there, fully furnished.”
“Fully furnished?”
“Husband, house, June Cleaver heels, money,” I said. “Like I’d scored the Barbie Dream House with Ken.”
“And—that’s a bad thing?” he asked.
I drew a shaky breath.
“Maybe I wanted to live in the Barbie van with the plastic fire pit,” I said. “Maybe I wanted to be Rocker Barbie or Veterinarian Barbie or Bohemian Barbie.”
“Micah, I was a boy, remember?”
“Maybe I wanted a choice,” I said, my words choked by tears. “In my own life. Without Ken constantly telling me that my only option was the damn Dream House.”
There was a pause, and I could only hope that my brother was using it to connect the crazy dots I’d just thrown out there.
“You’ve been with this guy for eight years,” he said finally. “Lived with him for most of that. Were with him when he bought this house. You couldn’t figure this out before today? Before leaving him standing up there by himself in front of everyone he knows?”
Bam. Gut kick.
“His house, Thatcher,” I said, crying fully. “You just said it. He bought the house, not we. It’s not mine. Not ours. I hated that house, but he wanted one just like the one they lost in the old fire, so my opinion didn’t matter. And everyone there were people he knows, not me.” Sobs pulled at my breath. “I had no one there but you and Jackson. You don’t have to agree with me—and you don’t have to like it, but I need you to be on my side.” I pulled the phone away from my face for a moment as the burn enveloped me. I couldn’t breathe as the reality that was my life vomited all over me. I heard Thatcher’s voice saying my name from far away, and I lifted the phone back to my ear. “I’m here,” I whispered.
“Baby girl, I’m always on your side,” he said, the warmth of his words flowing over me like bath water. “I’m sorry. I just—” He breathed in deeply and let it go. “I’ve been a little stressed out since I watched you climb on a bike with a stranger and disappear. Dad would have died all over again, watching that.”
A chuckle escaped my throat through the tears.
“Yeah, that probably wasn’t my most shining adult moment,” I said.
“Are you okay?” he said, his fatherly voice going into overdrive. “Where are you?”
“I’m fine,” I said, deliberately avoiding the second question. “But I can’t come back right now. I want to—Jeremy needs a minute to calm down.”
“You need to talk to him, Micah,” Thatcher said. “No matter what, he may be mad right now but he deserves that much.”
I blew out a breath. “I know.”
“So, where are you?” he repeated. “I’ll come to you.”
I shook my head, as if he could see that. He’d shit if he knew what town I was in. A noise behind me turned my head, and I smiled at Lanie leaning in the doorway with her back partially turned. She was either guarding the door so no one interrupted me or just eavesdropping. Really, I didn’t care either way.
“Can you get my wallet and my car keys?” I asked, wiping at my face. “Maybe my phone? I’ll meet you somewhere tomorrow if you can.”
“I already have your bag that was in the dressing room,” Thatcher said. “It has your wallet, makeup, a change of clothes, but Jeremy still has your car and he grabbed your phone the second we went in that room.”
Of course he did. He was trying to find out if I’d planned some great getaway.
“That’s okay,” I said and sighed. “I can buy a new phone—once I get my credit cards back—”
“A new phone?” Thatcher said. “Micah, how long are you planning to be gone? Just come home and talk to the man and get your shit back. If you need a place to stay, you know you can stay with me.”
In my childhood home that Thatcher now owned alone since his divorce, where the spirits of my parents still lived on in the walls, the curtains, the floors. Where the guilt and accusations still echoed from the ceiling, memories and judgment soaked into the very beams.
“I probably will,” I began. “But—not yet. My head is all over the place right now, Thatch. I need a few days to figure things out.”
Speaking of judgment, I could hear his whirling.
“I know you had mom issues here,” he said after a pause.
“When can you meet me?” I asked, swiftly changing that topic.
“I have meetings with clients all day tomorrow that I can’t cancel,” he said. “But I can meet you somewhere tomorrow evening. I’d come tonight but he’ll be all up my ass, expecting that.” I heard a long sigh and I knew he was rubbing his face, wishing for a new sister. “I can’t believe I’m having this conversation.”
“Is my bag with you right now?”
“It’s in the back seat.”
“Quick, read out my Visa number.” I grabbed a pad of paper. There was obligatory grumbling as he was probably extracting it from the back while trying to look like he wasn’t. “Have I told you I love you today?”
“You suck, Micah,” he grunted out over the sound of shuffling and a zipper and a grandiose release of breath. “Okay, here.”
He read out the numbers while I scribbled madly.
“This will work for now. I’ll call you when I get a phone,” I said. “We’ll make a plan. Please don’t tell Jackson, because he has an awful poker face.”
“What about clothes?” he said. “You planning to wear a wedding dress to go buy normal clothes? Isn’t that a little backward?”
I’d rather go naked.
“I’ll figure something out,” I said. “Damn it, I’m a sitting duck without my car.” I laid my forehead in my hands. “I can handle things for a couple of days. I just need to lie low.”
He sighed. “I get it.”
“Do you?”
“I get it better now that I know you aren’t dead,” he said.
“I know,” I said softly. “Thatcher?”
“Yeah?”
I breathed out slowly, trying to quell the shake. “Thank you.”
There was a pause, and I felt what was coming before he said it.
“I said I’m on your side, and I mean it,” he said. “But damn it, Micah, I wish you made it a little easier.”
My eyes filled with new hot tears. There were things he’d never know or understand, and that was okay. He didn’t need to know everything.
“I love you, bro,” I said.
“Always, baby girl.”