Chapter 3
Bryson
“The future is not set, there is no fate but what we make for ourselves.”
~ Rowan O’Sullivan
It was killing me not to reach out and try and comfort Kelsi as she stood in front of me, shaking like a leaf. I hoped that I could put her at ease by letting her in on my plan. “Listen, when I said that I was—”
“I know that you don’t know—” she said.
We spoke at the same time.
“Go ahead,” we chorused, each offering the other the floor.
She let out a small laugh at our verbal collisions, and the smile that spread on her face knocked the wind right out of me. Not in an abstract way. Her smile was a powerful force that slammed into me. Seeing her smile had the same effect on me physically as falling out of the second story window when I was eleven had.
I was trying to regain my bearings when she continued.
She spoke with urgency. “I was just going to say that I know that what my brother did was really bad, and I’m not trying to excuse his behavior. But, it’s just…he’s had a tough time lately. That’s not an excuse, it’s a reason. My mom is…not in the picture, and he got put into foster care. I didn’t know because I’ve been living in another state. When I found out, I went home, and I now have temporary custody of him and—”
“I heard you.” When the bar was empty, sound carried and even amplified in the large cavernous space. A whisper from across the room sounded like it was being said through a megaphone.
She blinked several times before her honey colored eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You did?”
I’d only just met this woman, and the circumstances were unusual, to say the least, but I hated the thought of her doubting me. “You said that you emptied your savings and that if he went back into foster care, there was nothing you could do about it.”
“Oh, well…” A pink stain of blush rose on her olive skin.
I immediately regretted repeating what I’d overheard. I hadn’t said what I had to embarrass her, in fact, that hadn’t even crossed my mind; I’d just wanted to prove I wasn’t a liar.
I thought she was going to cry, but she surprised me by rolling her shoulders back and looking, if anything, more determined. A fierceness replaced the look of uncertainty that had previously been in her eyes.
“Well, then you know that the situation is delicate. I was hoping that we might be able to figure out a way to resolve this without involving law enforcement. If there’s a report written, it goes into the system and then…it’s out of my control. I know that there is absolutely no reason you should care what happens to my brother. You probably think he’s a delinquent.” Her arms motioned to where he was seated across the room petting Goliath, whose head was laying on the kid’s lap. “But he’s not, I mean he is definitely displaying delinquent tendencies, but he’s not a bad kid. I promise. He’s had an extraordinarily tough—”
“I don’t think he’s a bad kid.” I cut off the rant that I was pretty sure she was about to launch into. Not because I didn’t want hear it. I wanted to hear anything that came out of this beauty’s mouth. But, I didn’t want her getting worked up over something for no reason.
“Listen…” Lowering my voice, I leaned forward so that I could whisper into her ear. It was a necessary logistical move to ensure that Milo didn’t overhear what I said, but it had the added benefit of allowing me to smell the sweet scent of either her shampoo, or lotion, or maybe just her. It was fresh, like the morning air with a hint of coconut. It reminded me of my vacation to Maui. Of sandy beaches and ocean. I closed my eyes for a brief moment before I heard her breathing growing more ragged by the second. I knew she was scared about the outcome of her brother’s shenanigans and I needed to put her mind at ease. “I did call a deputy in the sheriff’s office—”
“No, you don’t understand…” She shook her head frantically as she started to back away.
I covered her wrist with my hand, tugging her gently towards me. I could feel her pulse racing beneath my fingers. I spoke quietly and quickly, this time looking directly in her eyes. “But he’s one of my best friends. He’s like a brother to me. I grew up next door to him. I explained the situation. He’s going to come down here and put the fear of God in your brother, but that’s it. I promise. No report. No paper trail.”
“No…” She continued shaking her head as she looked up at me as she whisper-yelled. “That’s not…how it works. If a crime has been committed, then he is obligated to report it. He can’t just look the other way.”
“He can and he will,” I assured her. “This is Wishing Well. We take care of our own.”
She tugged her hand away from me, and from her expression, it was obvious that I’d just insulted her, although I had no idea what I’d said that had caused her to feel that way.
“I’m not from here; my brother’s not from here.”
“I know.” Hell, I knew everyone in Wishing Well and thanks to running this bar for the past six years, I was familiar with most of the people in Clover County.
She crossed her arms in a defensive stance and her mouth tensed in a flat line. “We don’t need you to take care of us.”
I begged to differ, but I kept it to myself.
“Okay,” I lifted my hands in surrender. “First of all, I didn’t say it like that. You’re making it sound very Sopranos, and I was going for Little House on the Prairie.”
Her lips twitched and pulled up in a small smile, and it was like the sun shining through a storm. Warmth spread through me as well as a desperation to keep that smile on her face. So much so that I almost didn’t continue, but something inside me was telling me that this needed to be said. “And second of all, you sound and look exactly like your brother right now.”
“No, I don’t,” she snapped back.
“Really?” My eyes drifted down to her fisted hands and crossed arms.
She followed my gaze and dropped her arms to her sides, shaking them out as they fell loose. “Whatever, that’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?” I asked.
“The point is, you don’t know us. We’re not one of your own to take care of.” Her words came through clenched teeth. “Why are you doing this? What do you want?”
I could see in her clear caramel stare that she wasn’t just being difficult or argumentative. She honestly believed that I was working an angle, that I wanted a little quid for my quo. That bothered me even more than when she thought I was lying.
Logically, I was aware that I was being ridiculous. Every night at this bar I told women not to trust men that they just met. So why was I taking it so personally and getting butt hurt that this girl, who didn’t know me from a hole in the wall, was doing exactly what I would tell her to do if it wasn’t me standing here? I’d never had such a visceral, cellular reaction to another person before. It was unnerving, and at this point, I didn’t trust myself not to make a complete ass out of myself.
Clearing my throat, I stepped back, putting some much-needed distance between us. Keeping the volume on low, I explained, “When I was a kid, I did something stupid, just like Milo, and I got caught, just like Milo. Bud, the man who caught me, didn’t call my parents or the cops. Instead, he told me that I was going to work off the damage to his property. That summer, I worked six days a week bussing tables, and I learned a lot, about consequences and also about being a contributing member of society.
“I can’t exactly have Milo working here, at the bar, but I’m renovating my parents’ house, and I thought that he could come and work on that with me. It’s hard work, and I start at six a.m. and work until three in the afternoon. It won’t be easy, but it will teach him—”
“Yes.” She eagerly agreed, tears now brimming in her eyes. “Yes. He will be there. Every day. Thank you.”
Relief and appreciation was rolling off of her in waves, and for some reason, it broke my heart. What had this girl been through? What had her brother been through? I wanted to know. I wanted to make it right. I wanted to make her see that there were good people in the world. I wanted to wrap her in my arms and tell her that I wouldn’t let anyone hurt her or Milo again.
Thankfully, before I did any of that, the sound of boots on the hardwood floors echoed through the silence. I glanced up and saw the look on Milo’s face as he stared in the direction of the back room that he’d broken into. He was doing a large mouth bass impression, and he’d gone as pale as my mom the one time she saw a rat in the kitchen.
I stepped out of the hallway and saw Hud standing at the far end of the bar looking like the Terminator in a sheriff’s uniform. He didn’t say a word, just stood there staring at Milo. I’d seen him do this routine over the years when there’d been a disturbance at the bar. It was an intimidation tactic, and it worked like a charm.
The radio attached to his shoulder made a noise, and he reached up and silenced it. The motion caused the khaki material surrounding his larger-than-life biceps to pull tight before he lowered his arm and hooked his thumbs on his utility belt, making his chest look even larger and compounding the effect of his threatening stance.
“Oh my god,” Kelsi breathed beside me.
An unfamiliar emotion flooded through me and it took me a beat to recognize what it was. But when my eyes shot to her, and I saw that it wasn’t attraction that inspired her expression but fear, I knew then that the foreign feeling was jealousy. White hot jealousy. That was my gut reaction to thinking that Kelsi might be interested in Hudson Reed, who was like a brother to me. He also happened to be happily engaged, but that was beside the point.
Kelsi’s breathing was growing more labored.
On instinct, I reached down and held her hand. “It’s going to be okay.”
Silently, she shook her head in the negative.
“Yes, it is,” I assured her quietly.
Her eyes darted to her brother and back to Hud as her fingers tightened around mine. Her simply holding my hand shouldn’t inspire me to want to do a victory lap around the bar, but it did.
I wanted to be there for her. I wanted to be her support. I wanted to be her rock. I wanted to be her protector. Hell, I wanted to be a whole lot more than that.
“Hey,” I said beneath my breath as I tugged on her hand. She looked up at me, and for some reason, I proceeded to ask the dumbest question I possibly could. “Do you trust me?”
I could hear the words coming out of my mouth, and I wanted to punch myself in the face for saying them. Of course, she didn’t trust me. Why would she?
It looked like this girl was going to make my self-fulfilling prophecy come true. I had a feeling before this was all over, I was going to make a huge ass of myself, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.