True North (North Brothers Book 1)

by Amy Knupp

  All I can do is give people my best ideas. If they can’t see the value in them, that’s their problem. She heard the words her grandpa had spoken countless times, probably every single time he didn’t win a bid. She’d always believed they were true, but this one was tough. This one wasn’t just another remodeling project.

  “I’m such an idiot,” she said to herself.

  “Still sixteen letters left. You can—” Cole cut himself off, apparently finally realizing that she wasn’t talking about the game. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  Sierra sucked in a shaky breath, because saying it out loud was going to hurt so much. “I didn’t win. The Eldridge contest. Dunn & Lowell is first runner-up.”

  “What?” Disbelief and outrage collided in his tone. “How do you know?”

  She held her phone up. “Email.”

  He extended his hand, palm up, a silent request to read it, and she handed it to him. A few seconds later, he handed it back and shot up off the couch. “Son of a bitch.”

  “Yeah,” she said, her shoulders drooping and every muscle in her body suddenly feeling so bone-tired she could collapse into a puddle. She propped her elbows on her thighs and buried her face in her hands.

  Kennedy had been texting her every day since the presentation to ask if she’d heard any news. Now she’d have to tell her sister she hadn’t won…as well as the rest of the family. For about two seconds, Sierra felt herself slipping into thought patterns from the past, of not being good enough, of having to repeatedly prove her skills to both her older siblings and the world in general… No. She refused to go there. The proposal she’d presented was damn good—unique, practical, emphasizing historical details while incorporating top-notch technology and convenience. That was what she did, who she was, and that’s what had been at the heart of her proposal. She still stood behind it to the smallest detail.

  Which made her feel exactly zero percent better about losing.

  She curled back into the couch cushion as she breathed out a sigh, her heart hurting. Twelve hours. That’s what she’d give herself to mope and be sad about it, but when she got to work tomorrow, it was time to move on.

  Cole, who’d been over near the kitchen, smacked his palm into the breakfast bar, rattling the whole kitchen, startling her. He had a scowl on his face, his forehead creased with anger.

  “You seem mad,” she said dumbly, trying to understand what she’d missed.

  “Pissed at myself,” he said, straightening to his full height, his expression thunderous, alarmingly so.

  “What? Why?” She racked her brain for what she’d missed between his Words turn and now.

  “Dammit,” he said with so much remorse her eyes widened. “I let you down.”

  Her mouth fell open and she tried to catch up to what he was thinking. “You… What?” He was not trying to take the blame for the contest, was he?

  “The most important two weeks of your life and I. Let. You. Down.”

  “Oh, my God, no you didn’t, Cole.”

  He let out a laugh that held no amusement and a whole lot of self-recrimination. “Let’s see…I flaked on helping you research and write the proposal itself—and while I don’t for a minute think you needed my input, you could’ve used the manpower. I know you spent hours and hours after work on it. On top of that, I left you with the task of hiring a new foreman in the midst of it—something that might’ve affected the results—”

  “It didn’t,” she said emphatically. “You saw the recording of the presentations. You said yourself I handled those objections well and turned it around to a way to show my strengths.”

  “And in case that wasn’t enough, I also screwed you over on the day-to-day by splitting my time with my new job. Not even splitting,” he said with a shake of his head. “I’ve spent the majority of my time since giving you notice trying to get up to speed with my family’s business, which left you with twice as much to do on the bank project and everything else.”

  Sierra forced herself to her feet, walked the short distance to him. “Cole. Stop it. It’s not about you. It’s not that I presented a subpar proposal. It’s not about anything except what I presented wasn’t what they wanted. It’s okay—”

  “It’s not okay,” he said through a clenched jaw, and something snapped in her.

  “Dammit, Cole. You’re making it worse,” she said, her voice raised.

  “It’s what I do,” he muttered with so much self-loathing she wanted to shake him. The urge startled her and she turned around, paced over to the chair where the cat was sprawled, nearly unbothered, save for one ear that was twitching in discontent.

  “It’s not what you do. Not normally.” Why couldn’t he see that?

  With unshed tears brimming in her eyes, her chest rising and falling with emotion, she watched him, waited for him to snap out of it, to realize all she needed right now was his arms around her, his lips pressing to her temple in comfort and understanding. He was a bright guy…

  But not when it came to himself.

  This was about more than her contest loss for him—she recognized that on some level, but right now, she didn’t have it in her to care. Right now, she needed to be reassured, cared for. She was exhausted, she was reeling, and she didn’t have the energy to convince him he was a good person.

  Her heart heavy, so very sad and heavy, she picked up her phone from the couch and stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans. She trudged to the stool at the breakfast bar, picked up her overnight bag, and stuffed her feet into her sneakers.

  “What are you doing?” Cole asked as she grabbed her coat from the back of the couch.

  “I’m leaving.”

  “I thought you were staying tonight.” There was a thread of anger in his voice, and that did it. The reins she’d been holding on to by a thread broke loose.

  “I thought I was too, but I don’t have it in me to do this.”

  “Do what? Us?” he said.

  That wasn’t what she’d meant but… He didn’t get it. He so didn’t get it. “I’m going home so I can nurse my wounds, make peace with losing the biggest opportunity of my life. My life, Cole! All I needed was a hug, an I’m sorry you didn’t win, not because you feel responsible but because you understand I’m hurting. Somehow you’ve made my loss all about you because you have issues that you need to figure out.” Her volume increased the longer she went on, but she was nowhere near stopping now that she’d started.

  “You’re an amazing man, with so much to offer, so many good qualities, but you’ve sold yourself some line of bullshit that you’re no good, that you don’t deserve good things, that you don’t deserve to be happy. It’s like you’re punishing yourself—still. You won’t listen to anyone who tells you differently. God knows you won’t listen to me, but you’re hurting yourself, and now you’re hurting me too. I love you, Cole—yes, I said it and I mean it,” she added when his eyes jumped to hers, “but I can’t seem to make you see the man I see, the man I know, the man I love, because you’re too set on believing you’re still that angry teenager who made some mistakes. We all make mistakes, and we have to get over them, let them go, move on, but you can’t. You’re stuck, and I can’t help you!”

  She stood there for a good five seconds, catching her breath, watching him, willing him to ask her to stay, to apologize, to…anything. But all he did was rub the back of his neck while an angry tic pulsed in his temple. He didn’t even look at her.

  And there was her answer.

  She closed the distance to the door, wasting no time now, anger, disappointment, and sadness warring within her, blurring her vision with tears that she refused to let fall. With the door open, her hand on the knob, she paused, looked over her shoulder at him. “I hope you can figure your shit out, Cole. If you do, let me know. Otherwise”—she swallowed the lump in her throat—“I can’t be with you anymore.”

  Cole stood next to the breakfast bar as she closed the door somewhere between quietly and an all-out slam.


  There it was then, what he’d been expecting all along. The other shoe had dropped. Sierra had left him.

  There was no satisfaction in having been right though.

  She’d said she loved him. She wasn’t the type to throw those words around for impact, so he was pretty sure she meant it.

  As that sunk in, he battled with himself. He hadn’t wanted her to love him. Hadn’t wanted her to care enough to be hurt, because there was no question in his mind she was hurting. And yet, when she’d said those three words, her voice raised in anger and frustration with him, there was no denying…a part of him wanted nothing more than her love, wanted to be the man who deserved her love.

  Too bad he didn’t know how to be that guy.

  He slammed his fist down on the countertop again, punctuating it with a “Dammit!”

  His chest hurt with loss, and regret bubbled up like acid in his throat, and he didn’t know what to do with any of it. Didn’t know how to fix it.

  What he did know was that he couldn’t take another minute of his empty apartment, couldn’t stand to spend another second alone with himself.

  He grabbed his keys and wallet off the counter, shoved them in his jeans pockets, and headed downstairs to Sunshine’s, slamming the door on the way.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Today was about gratitude.

  Sierra had reminded herself of that when she’d woken up that morning with an ache of loneliness in her chest. She’d reminded herself of it numerous times since arriving at Kennedy and Hunter’s house for Thanksgiving dinner—every time she found herself envying her siblings’ relationships with their significant others and every time she noticed Hunter’s dad’s devotion to Loretta, his wife who’d suffered from a stroke a couple of years ago and recovered nearly fully, though she still sometimes got dizzy. Sierra’s parents, though far away in Arizona, had called earlier on video chat to say they missed them all and would see them for Christmas.

  She had so much to be grateful for—a family who loved her, a successful, in-demand business, a kick-ass apartment on Hale Street, and some wonderful people for friends. There was Hayden, of course, who was spending the day with her own family, and also Asia, Jackson’s fiancée, who was here for the holiday, along with her sister, Vegas. Sierra had gotten to know Vegas through the Hale Street book club that Vegas started a few months ago, along with a multitude of women who worked or lived in the neighborhood, all of whom had also become Sierra’s friends.

  Today, Vegas and Asia had brought their mother along, a quiet, kind woman who had recently completed rehab for alcoholism. Because of that, Kennedy and Hunter had decided not to serve alcohol today, and Sierra fully understood and definitely supported that—except she could really use a drink. It was getting harder to keep her smile pasted on, her upbeat attitude in place.

  They’d finished the midafternoon meal a couple of hours ago, and now Hunter, his dad, and Vegas were in the family room watching football. Asia, Jackson, Hunter’s mom, and Hunter’s brother, Miles, were at the dining table playing a game of Scattergories, and Sierra was helping Kennedy cut the pies—pumpkin, cherry, and chocolate pecan—and serve them. The whole main floor of the house was a big, open area, so the noise level was high, between the sports fans yelling and cheering and the jibes that went along with the board game.

  Once Sierra had distributed dessert to everyone, she went back to the kitchen counter to grab her own slice, intent on drowning the extra-large piece of chocolate pecan with an extra-large dollop of homemade whipped cream. As she was about to grab her plate, though, Kennedy picked it up, along with her own plate, and headed to the back door.

  “Grab forks and napkins,” Kennedy said as she slipped out onto the three-season porch.

  Sierra stared after her for a second, then glanced at the rest of the group. No one was paying them any attention. With a shrug, she did as her sister ordered.

  “Isn’t it considered rude to ditch your guests?” she asked after easing the door shut.

  “Sit,” Kennedy bossed. She’d set their plates on the high-top cafe table that overlooked what was usually a lush, green backyard but was now showing the last signs of any color before the winter freeze. She flipped the power on a space heater nearby.

  With a glance toward the inside of the house, Sierra slid onto the stool, because there was her pie, and she was going to eat it no matter where her sister led her. “Why are we out here?” she asked.

  Kennedy went over to the wet bar, selected a bottle of red wine from a countertop rack, and busied herself opening it. “We all have our needs. Mrs. Knowles needs an alcohol-free environment, and my sister needs a glass of wine.”

  Sierra thought she might weep in gratitude. “I was managing without,” she said stoically.

  Kennedy got the cork out, took down two stemless goblets from a hanging rack, and poured the deep garnet liquid into each. She brought them over to the table, handed Sierra one, and sat on the other stool. “Your smile is too wide today.”

  That one sentence had the charade screeching to a halt. Sierra’s throat thickened with all the emotion she’d been trying to block out for the whole day, and she couldn’t respond.

  “I admire the effort, and I think you fooled everyone else, but I’m your sister,” Kennedy said. “And I know not winning the Eldridge thing was crushing.”

  Sierra set her fork down before she could take a single bite. Tears popped into her eyes as if they’d been right there under the surface waiting for the first moment she was alone, or almost alone. “Dammit,” she said, and the first tear rolled over the rim of her eye and down her cheek. She’d texted the contest results to Kennedy on Tuesday when her sister had asked, had given her the few details she knew, and then changed the subject. Her sister had let her get away with it then, but clearly that wasn’t to be now.

  Kennedy slid off her stool, closed the space between them, and pulled Sierra in for a hug. She held her for a minute while Sierra silently let a few tears fall. She didn’t want to give in to a full cry, because she knew, if she did, it would be an ugly one. Another ugly one.

  She clung to her sister, breathing, squeezing her eyes shut, trying to force out all the thoughts, but then Kennedy ruined everything.

  “And then there’s Cole,” her sister said.

  The sobs came then, though she kept them silent. Just giant heaves of her shoulders and periodic gasps for air, and Kennedy held on.

  “You can let it out,” Kennedy said. She had never been the nurturing type, and that made her gentle care now all the more meaningful to Sierra. Which only made her cry harder.

  Sierra grasped on to her and couldn’t have stopped letting it out if she’d wanted to. When the sobs finally calmed a few minutes later, she pulled away enough to look around for the napkins she’d brought out. She used them to dab at her eyes, knowing her mascara had to be a mess, and then she blew her nose. When she could get words out, she said, “How did you know?”

  She hadn’t told her sister about splitting up with Cole, had never really committed verbally to bringing him for Thanksgiving dinner even though Kennedy had told her to invite him. Yesterday Kennedy had texted to see if he was going to be there, and Sierra had merely replied that he was spending it with his own family.

  “Not born yesterday,” Kennedy answered. “You guys were spending a lot of time together. Every time we texted, Cole was either around or out of town. Then, the last couple of days, he was neither. What happened?”

  Sierra took a shaky breath as Kennedy moved her stool closer and climbed back up. She launched into what had happened Monday night between her and Cole, told her enough about Cole’s background that she could understand his issues without giving away the most private stuff he’d told her. Kennedy caressed her arm with one hand and held on to her wineglass with the other, sipping quietly as Sierra got everything out.

  “You did the right thing,” Kennedy said when she finished.

  With that pronouncement, Sierra’s tears came bac
k with a vengeance, when she’d thought she had cried them all out. “I miss him, K.”

  “I know you do. But he’s got to figure out his shit. You can’t do that for him.”

  Sierra merely nodded, swallowing down another round of crying, because damn, she was exhausted. Instead, she took a swig of wine, closed her eyes, savored the subtle spice of it, and took another few swallows. To hell with sipping politely.

  “I admire what you did,” Kennedy said sincerely, picking up her fork and shoveling a bite of pecan pie onto it. Their desserts had been sadly ignored until now, and Sierra followed suit. Pie was easier than feelings.

  “Part of me feels bad for not hanging around to help him through it,” she admitted, her heart hurting when she thought of the internal things Cole struggled with.

  “He has to get through it. He has to want to get through it.”

  Sierra nodded slowly, thinking about that so hard that she barely tasted the creamy sweetness of the chocolate in her mouth. “I don’t know. He’s been wrangling with a lot of things from his past, making peace with his family. Going to work for them was monumental for him. But I just don’t know if he can get past some things he needs to get past.”

  “You were smart to end it now then,” Kennedy said. “I think back to my ex and wish I’d done that. Walked away when he couldn’t be what I needed. It would’ve saved a lot of pain in the end.”

  “It seems like I missed out on saving myself a lot of pain,” Sierra said.

  Kennedy shook her head. “It hurts now, but it would hurt worse later.”

  Sierra knew she spoke from experience. A bad experience. But it didn’t really make her feel better now.