by Piper Malone
Chapter 33
Nick
“Do we get to call you Nico?”
“No,” I reply before nodding to Sandy, the lifetime bartender at Roy’s Bar, as she passes bottles of beer around the table.
“Why not? Everyone here does.” Blake’s irritation is satisfying.
“I like everyone here.”
Caleb’s laugh bounces off the wooden walls of the oldest, and best, dive bar in town.
“C’mon, man,” Blake mutters before taking a swig of his beer.
“It’s good to keep parties separate,” Ax confirms, clinking his beer bottle to mine.
“Speaking of which,” Blake jumps in, “shouldn’t you be trying on your dress for the big day?”
“My dress for the big day is nothing for you to worry about. It’s fantastic, so you can go fuck yourself,” Ax says.
“Classy, man,” Blake mutters.
“I learned it from Kat,” Ax retorts.
The ribbing and the blatant jabs remind me of our makeshift home in Boston. I have missed my friends. Each of them has characteristics similar to my brothers, which has made the transition between Rockland and Boston tolerable. With the exception of the stark contrast between Caleb’s focused leadership and Adam’s iron fist, I can fool myself into thinking one is the other.
Until Skyler enters the mix.
“What’s eating you?” Ax asks.
I shrug, trying to push off the feeling of comfortable familiarity with this crew. I helped Caleb and Reagan whenever I could with wedding planning. In the rush of planning, it was easier to accept that Skyler wasn’t there. I was distracted. Once they left for their honeymoon, everything seemed vacant, including me. I couldn’t patch the hole that ached when I missed my family in Maine—a hole that seemed deeper when the chaos was over and Skyler was gone. With everyone scattered, I had to navigate Boston alone. I didn’t realize until then that I had a daily dose of family, an injection of brotherly love. After missing their company, it’s nice to have them here. “Nothing,” I reply with a shake of my head.
“Bullshit,” Caleb calls. “What’s up?”
A strange nostalgia falls over me. He knows. One look at all of them lounging in the booth, and it’s clear they agree with Caleb.
“It’s good to have you here.”
“And Skyler?” Ax asks more to his beer bottle than me.
“It’s good to have her here too.”
“Are you guys . . .” Blake hedges. “What’s up with you two?”
The irritated burn that has faded since Blake has been in my home cracks to life, igniting sparks in my gut. I can barely talk feelings with Skyler. This idiot cannot think I’m going to belch my emotions here and now. “We’re working through it. Working through . . . stuff.” Even the small admission makes my skin crawl. I need to wrap my brain around everything before I can form words for anyone other than Skyler.
Blake’s mouth opens to respond, but he’s cut short by a stampede at the door. At four forty-five on the dot, the workers from the local mills and foundries filter in to end their day. Sandy hollers at them from behind the bar to take up residence anywhere. The men and women who have known my entire family for years issue greetings, handshakes, and the occasional hearty backslap as they pass by to fill open barstools.
From within the rush, I hear a familiar voice call, “Is that Nico?”
Edmond Clark hobbles through the group on bowed legs. “It is!” His expression lifts the wildly bushy eyebrows up enough for me to see the brown of his eyes. “How are you, son?” he asks as he hooks a strong arm around my shoulders and pulls me close.
“I’m good, Ed.” I give the elderly man a strong hug. Edmond supplied me with wood, tools, and advice when I started woodworking. He guided my work and helped me hone my craft. Ed also commissioned my first work: a salad-serving set for his daughter’s wedding. “It’s good to see you.”
Ed shakes hands with everyone at the table after quick introductions but declines an invite to join us.
“Nah, I don’t want to intrude. I’ll see you at the dedication, right?”
“Of course,” I reply. “I’m looking forward to the unveiling.”
“It’s a good thing you and your brothers are doing. I’m happy to hear you are settling back here after being gone for so long. I’m sure your brothers are pleased.”
Ed could be my grandfather, and he is getting up there in age, but for him to slip is unnerving. He’s always sharp. He works, exercises, and has never had a health issue a day in his life, which he attributes to eating pork every day. Ed also knows my residence is split between here and Boston. He stopped in to see me a few years ago.
“I’m just here for a couple of months, and then I’ll be back in Boston.”
“Really?” Ed leans on the table. “I saw Adam last week. He talked to me about outfitting the old warehouse on Market Street for you to expand your business. He showed me your website. It looks really good.”
Ed’s statement drags me out of the bar, away from my friends, and into a pulsing vortex of disbelief. “What?”
“What’s the name of that website again?” Ax asks, his phone cradled in his hands.
Ed rattles off the web address before being pulled into a side conversation with a coworker, distracting him from our booth.
Ax taps in the address for Harris Woodworking Designs, and I pass a look at Caleb. His face is impassive, his elbow resting on the table, his fist balled just under his nose. Blake is leaning back, arms crossed.
“Well, wouldn’t you know,” Ax says before handing me the phone.
The website is slick and contemporary. A carousel of images displays my work. The benches, playground pieces, and flowerbeds in the park are there, the photos obviously taken shortly after installation. Utensils. Birdhouses. Chairs, tables, and built-in bookcases for homes and offices.
Even my stonework is featured, with pictures taken of my mantel, summer kitchen, and fire pit. According to the website, custom ordering will open shortly. The Market Street address is listed as my personal office and studio. There is even a bio describing how I started my small business and the private contributions I have made to the community.
I scroll through the testimonials with numb fingers. All of them glowing. All of them from actual customers.
Just under the Contact Me button, in tiny font, are the words that make my heart seize. Website Developer: Veronica Jessup.
Ronnie.
“We’re happy to have you home, son.” Ed claps me on the back before hobbling to the bar.
“Nick?”
I barely hear Caleb’s voice over the rush of blood pounding in my ears. The looks on all their faces bleed of uncertainty and betrayal.
“Not a word to Skyler.” I can hear the menace in my own voice.
I can see Ax gearing up to argue, but I slip out of the booth before he can start.
I need to find my brother.
*
Twenty minutes later, my tires squeal to a halt outside of Adam’s home. Jude’s ATV is parked in the driveway. The garage door is open, allowing me easy access to the house. Adam’s vehicles are pristine despite the snow and salt. All of them are parked within the bright-white lines drawn on the floor.
Control freak.
I enter the home without knocking, charging into the open living area.
Jude and Adam look up from a map spread across the monstrous dining room table. My grandfather started the piece before he died. I finished it in his honor.
“Hey, Nico,” Jude calls. “You look good! Want to help us plot out—”
“No.” I feel mildly guilty for cutting him off, but I need to get to the bottom of this. I know Adam has the answers. My pulse throbs in my head, the ache of the concussion blooming across my brain. “You want to tell me about your grand plan for Harris Woodworking Designs?”
Adam straightens, his eyes narrowing. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the new shop
on Market Street that Ed Clark just told me about. You know, the company with the website that can start taking custom orders soon.”
Jude steps back, his gaze sweeping from Adam to me, then back again. “What?”
“You haven’t seen the site?” I ask with irritated enthusiasm. “You should check it out. I didn’t know about it either, but my face is on there, and it explains how I started woodworking, and it has pictures of all my work.”
“No way.” Jude pulls out his phone and starts punching in the address.
Adam and I stare each other down.
I lift my brows. “Nothing? You have nothing to say?”
“Holy fucking shit, Nico. This looks amazing!” Jude taps his phone, moving through the web pages. “I didn’t know you were planning on doing this.”
“Neither did I.” The words are ground through my teeth.
“Nico,” Adam says, sounding borderline condescending, which ratchets my rage even further, “you did your thing. You may have moved away, but you always come back here. It’s time for you to stay.”
“I did my thing? What thing is that, exactly?”
“You explored; you met new people. I don’t know what the fuck you do in Boston, but I know that you can’t possibly make any money down there, at least not like you can here. You always come back to do any major work anyway. If that place was home for you, you’d move there permanently.”
“Not everything is about money, Adam.”
“This community could really benefit from you being here. We have made a good name for our family despite everything. People really love you. The town knows what you do and what you can offer. You can do your craft and work with Ben.”
“I’m not getting involved with local politics. Have you lost your mind?”
“You can settle down, get married, and have some kids, and this will all work out.”
“According to who? Skyler lives in Boston.”
“The chick who was diagnosed with a life-threatening disease and didn’t tell you? The one who left to be with her family instead of even giving you a forwarding address? You really think that’s going to last?”
“Hey, Adam,” Jude interjects, “dial it back a minute. Did you really do this without telling Nico?”
“He needs to be here. The only reason he’s there is for her.” Adam doesn’t even look at Jude when he talks to him. Every word is drilled at me. “We can get you set up with everything you need for a successful business, and Boston will be a distant memory.”
“And if I don’t want to move back?”
“I can petition the courts to have your section of the land rezoned and distributed to the rest of us.” He shrugs. “If your life is in Boston, you have no need for this place.”
“We were willed the land.” Adam’s idea is preposterous. “My name is on the deed to the land.”
“I talked to Ben. He agrees that expanding the business would be good. He helped me secure the property for the shop. He will also help me get the land redistributed.”
“This is insane,” I mumble. “You can’t do this to me.”
“No, we’re not going to do it, because you are going to make the choice to stay here without it getting to that point.”
My brain is swimming and plummeting.
If I leave Maine, my brother is threatening my home and my livelihood.
If I leave Boston, I lose Skyler.
“Adam, this is unfair.” Jude looks as confused as I feel. “You wouldn’t do this to any of us.”
“The rest of you aren’t trying to tie an anchor around your necks.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“Nico, you need to know the truth. If she had one cancer diagnosis, she’s going to have another. Eventually, it will kill her. Save yourself the grief and cut her loose now.”
“Are you actually suggesting I move back and leave Skyler because she’s eventually going to die?”
Adam shrugs, his face passive despite my irritation. “Ronnie is still really hard up on you. You guys were good in high school—”
“Outside.”
He snorts, arms crossing over his chest. “You can’t be serious, little brother.”
“Now.”
“Nico, this isn’t a punch-it-out problem,” Jude interjects.
“Wanna bet?” I mutter through my advance toward Adam. Three steps toward my older brother, and Adam and his shirt are wrenched in my grip. His right hook comes fast, glancing off my chest when I step back. When he falters from his missed mark, I step in and land a swift punch to his gut.
The blow levels him enough for me to snare his head in the vice of my arm. He’s never been able to get out of a headlock, so I drag him through the front door, slamming us into the deep blanket of snow.
“She left you, Nico,” Adam grunts between punches. “You didn’t mean anything to her.”
The crush of pain swells with my anger. Racing thoughts press against the pounding ache at my temples. My chest seizes, the cold piercing the volcanic slosh in my gut.
Adam rams his palm against my ribs, allowing enough space to land the right hook he missed in the living room. The world spins and grays at the edges. Hot liquid runs down my chin and drips crimson on the pristine white snow.
I hear his footsteps move closer. “The first time we fought for property, you won the land with your fists, kid. You won’t win here. Make your choice.” Adam grabs the front of my shirt, the force jarring the already-wounded contents of my head. I feel underwater, useless to do anything to protect myself from Adam’s fist.
He pulls me to my feet, the look of disdain and disappointment oozing from every pore. “You have responsibilities, Nico. I’ve tried to make that clear to you. Everyone got themselves together except you. If you are set on following your dick wherever a cheap piece of ass leads you, you are going to lose the things that were designed to keep you rooted. Face the facts, Nico. She left you. Harris men don’t stay with women who leave.”
His words pound against my skull. He’s using our mother to make a case against Skyler? Our mother was . . . not Skyler.
The glance of his fist off my chin causes me to step back, but his grip on my shirt keeps me from hitting the ground again. When I feel him pull me back up, I use his strength to my advantage and take a swift step forward. Adam was too busy watching my hands to expect to be bulldozed into the caked snow and ice lining his walkway.
Hearing his head thud against the ground, accompanied by the rush of air hissing from his lungs, is gratifying. His hands reach for my throat, but his aim is weak.
Pushing into him before staggering upward embeds him in the snow a little deeper, icy crystals falling between his skin and the neckline of his shirt.
“Get up.” Adam made sure I was raised well when we were children, but his sick need to control this is beyond anything I would have expected from him. Watching him push to his feet makes me feel only slightly powerful, but he’s ready for more. Adam is intent on making me understand his place in our family.
He attacks, using brute force to tackle me on the driveway. The cold scrape of asphalt against my elbow burns instantly, the rock salt stinging the open wound. His weight shifts, and his knee presses against my throat. One swift push of his leg, and he pitches forward, his forearm bracing his fall instead of his face. Adam rolls and pushes up, his body swaying as it fights to stay upright. Or I’m swaying . . . The world is hazy at the edges as I get to my feet.
“That’s enough,” Jude calls from the porch, halting my advance. I could have blown him off his feet. “We have company.”
Adam stumbles to the right. “Get off my property,” he slurs.
“As soon as Nick is done,” Caleb’s cool voice rings out. At the end of the driveway, he’s standing with Ax and Blake flanking him. All watching and waiting. Caleb’s focus shifts to me. “Ready, brother?”
“You have a fucked-up understanding of brotherhood,” Adam spits, glaring at me with vengeful eyes.
&
nbsp; “I think your version is the one that’s fucked,” I mutter, limping my way over to Caleb’s SUV, pulled over with the hazard lights flashing.
“This is in your hands, Nico,” Adam calls after me. “Make the choice our father would have wanted. You know why Grandpa set this land aside for us.”
Adam’s words are the sharpest tool in his arsenal, and they are always pressed against his opponent’s jugular. If he can’t best you with force, he’ll fuck with your head.
“Do I want to know?” Caleb asks from the driver’s seat once the four of us are inside the vehicle.
Caleb could handle hearing the ultimatum. They all could. They’ve had their fair share of family drama, but none of them have been asked to choose between family and their future. My true home is here. I feel at peace, whole, when I’m in my shop. Except for the moments I think of Skyler.
She’s going to die.
Harris men don’t stay with women who leave.
The words, the disbelief that my own brother would try to trap me into staying and then all but marry me off to Ronnie, hover too close to the surface. I want to spit the venom. Free it from my mind.
I just don’t trust that any of them could keep the truth from Skyler.
I need a plan.
“What you saw was old business,” I say.
“And the website and shop?” Blake presses.
“What can I say?” I lift a shoulder and feel the damage from the brawl. “My brother has big ideas.”
Chapter 34
Skyler
He is weird.
Quiet.
Not the grumbly, sullen silence that is Nicholas William Harris. I am accustomed to that static. This is just strange.
Calculated.
He barely flinched when I cleaned the stones and dirt from the cuts on his elbow. He gave enough info for us to know he and Adam had a disagreement. Nick does not have disagreements, he has throwdowns. He did it with Blake, and I’m sure a similar situation happened with Adam today. Before I could call bullshit, Kat exploded in a fury of expletives, demanding to know if his brother knew that he was just in an accident. Nick declined to answer and cruised through the day as if nothing happened. I brought him a snack while he was working on final touches for the park. He ate, talked about the pieces, and told me he would come in after completing some detailing. Whatever he was doing took him hours.
