by Jill Shalvis
Garrett shrugged. “Hedge your bets and buy one of each.”
Linc sighed.
“You figure out what to do about the smoothie shop yet? You keeping it or selling it?”
Linc slid him a look. “You really think I should sell? You don’t think she’s going to change her mind once she calms down? What if I sell and then she can’t work there anymore?”
Maddox barked louder.
“Almost done here, buddy,” Linc said, and turned to Garrett expectantly.
“Okay,” Garrett said. “Let’s put it this way. What I think is . . . you’re screwed either way. The Lemon sisters don’t really do calm.”
Linc nodded grimly, then sighed. “Slip ’N Slide upgrade later?”
“Yeah, I drew up a new set of plans. The kids are gonna love the new course. It’s Olympic quality.”
They bumped fists and were about to go their separate ways when suddenly Maddox stopped barking. He’d shoved his pants to his ankles and was peeing into the bin of dog toys on the bottom shelf.
“Nice choice, kid,” Garrett said, and went to move past Linc as if he’d never met the guy.
“Seriously?” Linc called after him.
Garrett ran one more errand and then he was on the road again. The sun was setting, but he had no trouble seeing that his dad’s truck was still in the parking lot of the campground.
Yeah. He was definitely living there.
This time when he pulled into the parking lot, no one else was in sight. He got out of his truck and popped the hood on his dad’s. He replaced the old spark plugs with the ones he’d bought at the auto parts store. Interestingly enough, though the truck was a piece of junk, it was clean. There was a single suitcase in the truck bed. In the back seat were a dog bed, a bag of dog food, a bag of tennis balls, and two dog bowls.
Snoop was living better than his owner.
There was a phone on the dash. A burner. With only a twinge of conscience, he violated his dad’s privacy and opened the phone.
Garrett was the only contact in it.
With his gut in knots, he followed the scent of a campfire and found a small, raggedy-looking group of people seated on logs around it. In the background was a cluster of equally raggedy lean-tos and tents.
His dad looked up and paused. He rose with some difficulty, as if he was stiff and sore, prompting Garrett to start to reach out to steady him, but the stubborn old man shook his head. “I’ve got it. Everyone, this is my son, Garrett.”
Some muttered a reply, but the most enthusiastic welcome came from Snoop, who bounded up and bumped his big head against Garrett’s thigh in greeting.
“Let me get you some coffee,” his dad said, leading Garrett over to the leans-tos and tents, whose better days had been decades ago. His dad stopped in front of one, where there was a very small stack of firewood, a bag of dog food, and a beat-up old box. The contents were clean and very carefully organized: A loaf of bread. Some ketchup packets from a local drive-through. A box of no-brand dog biscuits. And a plate. Only one, along with a single fork, a knife, and a mug, which his dad reached for.
Garrett wanted to be hardened to this. His dad had left him, choosing alcohol over his own kid, when that kid had had nothing else in the world, no family, nothing. And yet he was having a hard time maintaining his anger and resentment. Still, he was going to give it the ol’ college try. “You’re living here, which means you lied to me. And why do you give away your money when you don’t even have a pot to piss in?”
“I’ve got all I need.”
“But—”
“I know what it looks like, Garrett, but I promise you, I’m good.” Their eyes met. “I don’t need more. I also don’t deserve more.”
Garrett rubbed the spot between his eyes, where a helluva headache was forming. “Everyone deserves more.”
His dad was quiet a moment, looking off into the distance. “In prison, I met a social worker. He told me it’s never too late to right your wrongs, and I need that to be true. I want to do right by you.”
Dammit. Garrett really needed his dad to be that same selfish dick he remembered, so he could continue to soak in his own bad memories. But the only dick here was himself, because he wanted to walk away without looking back and not feel a thing. Unfortunately, he couldn’t. “Dad, you can’t stay out here. The nights are still too cold.”
“The weather’s about to change.”
Garrett scrubbed a hand over his head, then stopped when he realized his dad had once again removed his baseball cap and was doing the exact same thing. He sighed. “Come home with me.”
His dad looked as stunned as Garrett felt. “Oh. No. No, that’s not necessary.”
“Dad—”
“I’m happy here.”
Garrett didn’t have the brainpower to argue the point. He was so tired he felt his muscles quivering very slightly, and his eyes were practically crossed with the need to be closed for eight hours. With all he still had to do, he’d be lucky to get five.
“You look done in, son. Go home. I’m staying here.”
“Suit yourself,” he said, and for the first time since he was eight years old, he did something his dad asked. He walked away.
Chapter 14
“A Band-Aid will do it.”
Mindy stood in front of her bathroom sink, staring at herself in the mirror. She’d been doing YouTube yoga and daily sit-ups, which, for the record, she hated. She’d also given up wine and cookies.
A huge loss.
But she was now down three whole pounds. She’d been so proud of that, until she’d pulled on her favorite sexy lingerie. She’d wanted to remind Linc—who, by the way, didn’t have any extra pounds on him, not a single damn one—what he was missing out on. He could give up carbs for one day and lose ten pounds. It was enough to make her hate him.
Except she loved him.
Ridiculously.
But she was also still furious with him. Not that any of it mattered, since he was sleeping on the couch.
She wanted that to change.
He startled her by poking his head into the bathroom, his gaze on the phone in his hand. She watched him via the mirror, holding her breath for his reaction, but he didn’t look up. “Problem,” he said. “Millie ran a little experiment on us. Apparently, she lost a tooth, put it under her pillow, and told no one for three days.”
She gasped and whipped around. “Oh my God.”
“Yeah, and obviously no money appeared under her pillow, so—” He finally looked up and caught sight of her and, with a husky groan, reached for her.
Seduction forgotten, she put a hand to his chest. “What did you tell her?”
“Who?”
“Your daughter!”
He fingered the spaghetti strap on her nightie, eyes hot. “What daughter?”
“Momma!” Millie said tearfully, appearing behind Linc. “Is the tooth fairy not real?”
“Oh, honey.” Mindy dropped to her knees before her baby, her little girl, the one who was too young to not believe in the tooth fairy. “Listen, it’s a busy time of year. Maybe she just got busy—”
“Tami at camp said that mommies and daddies are the tooth fairy. Is that true?”
Mindy looked at Linc. He dropped to his knees, too, and turned Millie to face him. “Do you know why mommies and daddies pretend to be the tooth fairy?”
Millie, blinking her huge slay-me eyes, shook her head.
Linc kissed the tip of her nose. “Because they love their kids so much that they want them to have the joy of waking up the morning after they lose a tooth to find their prize. It’s a tradition, and it makes parents as happy as it makes their kids.”
Millie thought about that for a moment. “So giving me money makes you happy?”
Linc grinned. “Anyone ever tell you that you’re too smart for your own good?”
“You, Daddy. All the time.”
He gently tugged one of her pigtails. He was the only one allowed to touch her hair l
ike that, and it made Mindy’s heart squeeze hard.
“Do you think you can help us keep the secret for your brothers?” Linc asked. “For all the other holidays?”
A frown furrowed Millie’s brow. “For all the other holidays . . . ?” Then her mouth dropped open. “Wait. So the Easter Bunny isn’t real, either?” she wailed. “Or . . . Santa Claus?” Without waiting for an answer, she ran off sobbing to her room, which they knew because she slammed the door hard enough to rattle the windows.
“I’ve got this,” Linc said, and went after Millie. When he came back ten minutes later, he shrugged. “She’s okay. But I might’ve bribed her into being okay with the promise of a movie this weekend. With popcorn and soda.”
“Why does everything keep going wrong?” Mindy asked.
“Okay, so that was my bad, and I feel shitty about the way it happened, but it’s not the end of the world. She’d have found out sooner or later anyway, right?”
That it was true only made Mindy ache all the more. She’d lost her sister, and now she was losing her baby. And maybe her marriage. She closed her eyes. “I can’t seem to find my happy, Linc. I know you’re trying, but for the longest time it’s just been me here with the kids, lonely as hell while you worked around the clock. I’ve got all this . . .”
“Resentment?” he asked softly.
She opened her eyes and bit her lower lip as she slowly nodded.
“I’m making changes, Min. I’m doing my best.”
“I know.”
“Do you?”
She gave him a nod, her gaze locked on his so he could see that she knew he was. “Yes, and you’re not the only one trying to make changes. My happiness can’t be based on you. It’s gotta come from me. I’m working on that, too.”
“Maybe I can help . . .” he murmured, reaching for her. Her heart took a little hopeful leap and she stepped into him, meeting him halfway. Their lips had almost touched when his phone buzzed.
She stilled.
And swore.
“Tell me it’s not work,” she said, fisting her hands in his shirt, her eyes on his mouth, which she wanted on her. “Tell me you’re not on call.”
He looked at his phone screen and grimaced.
“Seriously? You just got home. That means Ethan’s on call, not you.”
“He didn’t answer his phone. One of our patients slipped and fell and broke his hip. I’ve got to meet the ambulance at the hospital.”
A sigh escaped her and she gave him a little nudge that might have been more like a push. “Go.”
“Min—”
“Go.” She gave a small smile at the look of genuine regret on his face. “It’s okay, I get it. I do,” she said, when he didn’t look convinced. “It’s what you do, it’s who you are.”
When he was gone, she stared at her pale reflection in the nightie that she’d hoped would fix things. But she was starting to realize the problem wasn’t Linc at all—it was her.
THE NEXT MORNING, Mindy was sitting at the kitchen table sipping tea, staring at her binder. She was chilly, but the cold felt like it was coming from deep inside her, and she didn’t know how to get warm.
Brooke staggered in the back door and headed right for the coffeepot. Given the untamed hair haloing her face and the camisole and matching teeny pajama boy shorts she was barely wearing, she was clearly right out of bed. She poured coffee into one of Linc’s mugs that read WORLD’S BEST FARTER FATHER.
Mindy didn’t want to be envious of her, but she was. In fact, she was green with it. Even wild, Brooke’s hair was better—shinier, healthier—and her body . . . well, frankly, Mindy would kill for it. Lean, toned, yet curvy in all the right spots, without a spare ounce of fat. And when Brooke grabbed a chocolate chip croissant, made by one of Linc’s patients, from a bag on the counter, Mindy hated her all the more.
“What?” Brooke asked.
“Nothing.”
“Right. Steam’s coming out of your ears for nothing.” Brooke licked chocolate off her thumb.
Mindy felt her blood pressure rising. “You do realize you can’t just parade around in your pj’s like that. Linc’s sleeping on the couch, and Garrett’s in and out of this kitchen all the time, and you’re practically buck-ass naked.”
“Butt-ass naked,” Brooke said.
“What?”
“The saying is ‘butt-ass naked,’ not ‘buck-ass naked.’” Brooke looked down at herself. “And I’m more covered than I would be in a bathing suit. Or the tee and jean shorts I plan on wearing today. It’s going to be hot as hell.”
Mindy shut her binder. “You’re missing my point.”
Brooke reached for a second croissant. “Why is Linc still sleeping on the couch?”
Good question. She had no idea why he hadn’t come to bed when he’d gotten home last night. She hadn’t even heard him arrive. It made her cranky as hell. “Chocolate makes you break out,” she heard herself say, only slightly gratified when Brooke hesitated with a bite halfway to her mouth. “And you used my expensive blender last night and didn’t clean it.”
“It’s soaking,” Brooke said. “I made myself margaritas.”
“Also, you moved my boxes from the guesthouse. And left them outside.”
“You mean the boxes that were stacked on the futon I’m supposed to sleep on?” Brooke asked. “Yes, I did move them. And they had to go outside—there was nowhere else to put them. The place is the size of a postage stamp because—newsflash—it’s not a guesthouse, it’s a closet.”
“We renovated it,” Mindy said defensively, knowing her sister was right. “It’s a guesthouse!”
Brooke shook her head. “You always do that.”
“What?”
“Try to make everything in your life seem . . . bigger and better than it is.”
Mindy felt her face heat. “Well, it’s better than ignoring everything and anything that involves feeling something. You’ve stayed away from your family for seven years because . . .” Mindy tossed up her hands, shockingly close to tears. “Well, I’m not sure why. Maybe because we make you feel something.”
“You do, and right now that something is irritation,” Brooke said. “What’s your problem this morning? Why don’t you do us all a favor—take Linc to bed and get some happy, would you?”
That was just close enough to what Mindy actually wanted to do that it only made her feel worse. She wanted Linc to seduce her. Was that awful? He used to do it all the time.
Brooke sighed into the silence, put down her coffee—but not the croissant—and headed to the door.
“See?” Mindy said to her back. “You’re doing it again, right now.”
Brooke whirled back around. “What do you want from me? You needed my help with your kids, and I came through. You wanted me to stay, and I did. So please, tell me, what the hell is it that you want from me?”
It took Mindy a minute to speak, because she refused to cry. What did she want from her sister? She wanted what they’d once had. They’d drifted so far apart in the years since Brooke’s accident. And Brooke had changed. She no longer wanted to hear Mindy’s opinions—she no longer needed Mindy at all. “If I have to tell you what I want,” Mindy finally said, “I don’t want it.”
“I can’t guess, Min. Just say it.”
“You know what? I don’t want anything from you at all. Which makes sense, because we’re grown-ups now, right? We don’t need each other like we used to.”
Brooke stilled for a beat. “Good to know,” she finally said, and walked out.
“Great,” Mindy said as the door slammed shut. And then burst into tears. She got one whole moment of self-pity before she heard the pitter patter of little feet approaching. She swiped at her face just as Millie appeared, wearing a cute sundress and a frown.
“What’s wrong, baby?” Mindy asked.
“Everything!”
Mindy sighed. She’d definitely passed down the gene of talking in exclamation points.
“Daddy made
us all brush our teeth. Together!”
And Millie hated sharing a sink. Or anything, really. Poor Princess Millie had been meant to be an only child. And royalty. “It’s to save water,” she reminded her daughter.
“I know, and the penguins are very important, but Momma, my brothers are disgusting.” She walked to the sink to wash her hands, and Mindy stared at the back of her head. Someone had zip-tied her hair into a ponytail. “Millie, your hair . . .”
“Daddy did it. Said it was his morning to get us ready, and I wasn’t to go to you about it, even if I didn’t like it. And remember how my sandal broke and you said I couldn’t have new ones?”
“Yes,” Mindy said, “because you broke it throwing it at Mason’s head.”
She nodded. “But this dress needs sandals, not sneakers, so . . . I asked Daddy for new sandals.”
Mindy gave her a long look.
“Momma, I can’t go to camp without shoes!” She stuck out her lower lip. “But Daddy said that he wouldn’t buy me new ones, either, because you two are a team, so . . .” The girl thrust out one of her feet for inspection. She was wearing the sandals. The broken one had been fixed with Band-Aids. “He said a Band-Aid will do it.”
Something in Mindy’s chest tightened and warmed. “Maybe you’ll think twice about throwing things at your brother’s head.”
Millie did an impressive eye roll and walked out. Probably to go find a new way to terrorize her siblings.
But Mindy did appreciate her baby’s ability to solve her problem. Seemed she could learn a lesson or two from that, if only finding her happy was that simple.
THAT NIGHT, MINDY sat in her big bedroom all by herself. The kids were asleep, and Linc had been called for an emergency.
She knew that was out of his control, but she wouldn’t want to come home to her, either. Turning on the kid monitors, she slipped out the back door. Back when she and Brooke had been young, they’d often have big blowups, and after, the one at fault would sneak into the other’s bed late at night to apologize, and then they’d sleep together holding hands.
It’d been a whole lot of years, but Mindy was hoping the gesture would still mean something. The moon was nearly full, reflecting off the water of the pool, lighting her way to the guesthouse. She knocked softly, and when she got no response, she pressed her face to the window and peered in. She could see Brooke on the futon beneath a blanket, turned away from the door, watching a show streaming on her laptop.
