by Dani Wade
Seven
“I’ll be on the second floor if you guys need me for anything, okay?” EvaMarie said.
“No problem. Thanks, Miss Hyatt.”
With a deep breath, EvaMarie headed up the stairs from the basement, skirting the carpenters already measuring for their plans to widen the entryway. Sad to say, but she’d rather be down there helping with the packing, even with her sore palms. But she had another job waiting for her.
With the extra help, her family’s belongings were going into storage a lot quicker than she’d anticipated. Which meant she had to get her brother Chris’s room cleaned out ASAP. She was surprised Mason hadn’t asked about the other empty room on this floor, but she was grateful. She didn’t want movers in there.
Yet cleaning it out herself wasn’t a task she was looking forward to.
Her hand trembled as she reached for the doorknob. As if this wasn’t gonna be hard enough.
“Is this where you’d like the boxes, Miss Hyatt?”
EvaMarie almost jumped, but caught herself before turning back to the young man. “Yes, please.” After he set them and some tape down in a neat pile, she added, “Thank you so much for bringing those upstairs.”
“No problem.”
His gaze flicked to the still-closed door before he turned back toward the stairs. He might be curious, but he wasn’t going inside. No one had been inside that room except her and her mother for over twenty years. Not even her father.
Turning back, she took a deep breath and forced herself through the door. A quick glance told her everything was the same. A small part of her had wondered if her mother would take something from the room with her when she left, but it didn’t look like she had.
In fact, the room remained exactly as it had been when Chris had died in a tragic car accident here on Hyatt land. He’d been fifteen. The emotions of that day stood out so vividly in EvaMarie’s mind, though the actual images were mere shadows now. She’d been angry with her brother because it was one of those rare times he’d refused to let her tag along on his adventure. It was one of the few times he’d disobeyed their father. He wasn’t supposed to be in the vehicle unsupervised.
While he was out, he’d lost control of the truck, and it plunged headfirst into a ravine. His chest had been crushed against the steering wheel. By the time anyone found him, he was gone from her forever.
But his room remained full of old-school video games and a huge television, the best model from that time. Horses were everywhere, whether it was pictures or his collection of carved wooden figures. While Chris had been a typical teenage boy, he’d loved the family’s animals and looked forward to taking over from their father someday.
A Tennessee football bedspread and pillowcases. A BB gun and his very first rifle on the gun rack above the bookcase. Even a pair of discarded cowboy boots peeking out of the barely open closet door. How did she even begin to pack away the life of someone she loved and missed so much—even to this day?
She picked up the photo box she’d brought in the other day, along with some trunks to pack away the more valuable keepsakes, and walked over to the wall beside the bed. Pictures of Chris at various sporting events and horse shows, some of him alone, some with her or their parents, were barely hanging onto the wall. The tape had deteriorated over time. One by one she took them down, removed what adhesive was left and packed them away in the box. Her mom might not want them now, but eventually she might. EvaMarie had long ago made secret copies of the originals for the scrapbook she kept in her room.
“Whatchya doing?”
Whirling, EvaMarie tilted off balance before righting herself for a good look at Mason. “Oh, I thought you were gone for the day.”
He shrugged, but his gaze steadily cataloged the room around them. Her hands tightened on the box until the edges cut into her bandaged palms. She didn’t hide her wince soon enough.
“I took care of some stuff in town,” he finally said. “Then I came back to see how things were going. Looks like they are making steady progress in the basement.”
Her voice was breathless as she tried to justify herself. “Yes, I planned to get back down there—”
Again that nonchalant shrug. “You did fine. They were very clear on what you wanted done. You’ve gotten everything pretty organized.”
“I try,” she murmured. It felt weird to acknowledge the compliment, as if she needed to search for some hidden insult. After last night, she wasn’t sure what to expect.
Or quite how to react.
“How’re the hands?”
“Better.” She gestured with the box. “Awkward.”
“I’m sure. Let me know when you need some new bandages.”
Which just reminded her of the two of them in a dimly lit kitchen and how she had been half-dressed. That had been an ill-timed choice, but when your hands were on fire and you needed to get to the first-aid kit, putting on pants moved low on the priority list. At least he hadn’t seemed to mind...
A flush swept up her body and bloomed in her cheeks. She nodded and turned away, anxious to hide her reaction.
Behind her, she heard him moving, prowling the space. She bit her lip. Though she knew the reaction was unfounded, part of her ached to stop him. Her mother wasn’t here to care that there was a stranger in Chris’s room, but it still felt wrong.
“Can I ask whose room this is?”
Despite his gentle tone, despite last night, she was still afraid to say. Afraid of the condemnation or judgment that might come from the revelation. But it wasn’t as though she could hide it with him standing right behind her.
Gathering the last of the pictures into the box, she carefully put the lid on top and laid it on the desk near the door. “This room belonged to my brother, Chris.”
Mason’s slow nod didn’t give her a clue as to his thoughts. “You’ve never mentioned him before.”
No, she hadn’t. Not even when she and Mason had been close. So his accusing tone was justified—this time.
How did she begin to explain that it was a barrier her parents had put up that she was almost afraid to cross? Especially since her own grief, never properly expressed, might have broken through the dam if a crack had ever appeared. Even now, she wasn’t sure what openly experiencing her grief would have been like.
“My parents—” she cleared her throat, trying to loosen the constriction “—they never talked about him.”
He shook his head. “How is that even possible? Not to talk about your own child?”
Now it was her turn to shrug, because she didn’t understand it as well as she wished she did. Even now, she couldn’t explain her tight throat or pounding heart. It made no logical sense, but the sensations were there, nonetheless.
Still, she forced herself to speak. “Once we came home from the funeral, he wasn’t ever talked about again. Everything about him disappeared, except this room,” she said, glancing around with a covetous look. “As if he didn’t exist—at least, it felt that way.”
She stroked a finger down a picture of Chris on his favorite horse that sat framed atop the desk. “Only I know that wasn’t true. At least, not for my mom.”
“How?”
She pursed her lips before she spoke. “Because mine is the next room over. I could hear her crying in here some nights.” She took a shuddering breath, remembering the eerie, sad sounds. “But no one mentioned it in the morning.”
Behind her, she could hear him moving but was too caught up in her emotions to turn around.
He asked, “So you were old enough to know him, to remember it?”
EvaMarie turned around and nodded. “He was quite a bit older than me, but the age gap didn’t keep us apart. Chris took me everywhere with him. Taught me to ride horses, swim. We were rarely apart. He was my champion.” Her voice trailed t
o a whisper. “My protector.”
He’d protected her from their father and his demands for perfection, even at her young age. After Chris’s death, her father had become her jailer. For a long time, she’d understood the need to keep his only living child safe. Until Mason. Until she’d become desperate to finally live.
“I don’t remember hearing about his death, but then I’m only a couple of years older than you.”
“It was sudden, a car accident here on the estate. When something isn’t talked about by the family, and no one dares ask, it becomes a matter of out of sight, out of mind.”
A few steps brought him closer, almost to within arm’s length. EvaMarie was amazed at how desperately she wanted him to close that distance, to hold her against him until the sad memories dissolved.
“But why would you never tell me?”
Her gaze snapped up to meet his. Unnerved by the intensity of his stare, she swallowed. For a moment, she considered giving some kind of flippant, casual answer. But something about that intensity demanded a true reason.
So she gave it. “You’d be amazed, I’m sure, at how deeply a family’s darkest moments can be buried. When something makes you happy, the last thing you want to do is remember the bad times.”
Which was why she’d never been completely honest with him about her father, even. Yes, she’d warned him they needed to be careful. That she wasn’t allowed to date. That her father would probably run Mason over with his truck if he caught them together—if he didn’t get his gun first. But she’d never told him that her father scared her. That he controlled every last second of her life, demanding that she be the perfect, compliant child.
Because she didn’t want to taint their time together with the darkness she lived with every day.
Her chest tightened, threatening to cut off her air supply. Time to change the subject. “Thank you, Mason.”
“For what?” he asked with a slight tilt of his head.
“For listening, letting me talk about him.” The words were rushed, but if she didn’t get them out quick, they wouldn’t come at all. “Though I wish I’d had more years with him, I try to remember how he lived while he was with me.”
His slight smile told her he could relate. “My father always said, the least we could do to honor my mother was to keep her alive through our memories, to keep her a part of our family. He talked about her until the day he died.”
“I wish we had.” EvaMarie’s heart ached as she looked over her brother’s possessions. “I’m so out of the habit now...it feels weird.” She lifted her head. “And it shouldn’t.”
And somehow, she’d find a way to change this...just like she was changing a whole lot of other things in her life. So with a deep breath, she got started packing.
* * *
Mason followed his brother into Brenner’s, breathing in the smell of grilled meats and a real wood-burning fire. This wasn’t a touristy place but had a huge local following—off the beaten path.
Though they had a varied menu, their steaks and Kentucky microbrewed beers were a superb version of man food.
Kane stretched in the booth, taking in the roaring fire nearby and the authentic aged brick walls. “Can you believe we’re here and eating at a place like this?”
“As opposed to the cheap burgers that were a treat growing up?” Mason shook his head. “Kinda hard to believe, even now. But dad would have loved this.”
Mason thought of the man who had worked so hard, taught them so much, and had still laughed and had a beer with them... He shifted, uncomfortable comparisons with what he now knew of EvaMarie’s childhood rising up in this mind. But before he could mention anything to Kane, the waitress appeared.
By the time their orders went in and their foam-topped beers had come out, Mason thought better of sharing. After all, it really wasn’t his story to share. Since EvaMarie would be working with Kane some too, he didn’t want her to be uncomfortable if Kane let his knowledge slip.
While he and his brother both sat in thoughtful silence, Mason couldn’t help but think about the changes in their circumstances that were so unexpected, so welcome, and yet made him long for the man who had made it all possible. Their lives could have been very different if their father had been a different kind of man.
As if on the same wavelength, Kane raised his mug. “To the man who sacrificed so we could have all this.”
They tapped beers and drank. The smooth amber liquid had just enough bite for Mason’s satisfaction. “Dad loved us,” he said. “That much is clear.”
“Was always clear,” Kane agreed.
Again Mason came back to EvaMarie, her childhood, her family. He’d had something she’d never had for all her privilege: the unconditional love of a parent.
Kane went on, “I’d like to think he’ll be happy with us naming the stables after him. He was so excited when we told him what we wanted to do.”
But not about them moving back here. The one and only time Mason had mentioned that idea, his father had become visibly upset. Maybe through the years he’d realized just how hard the persecution had been on Mason, and had probably known that if he got within a hundred miles of the Hyatt family, revenge would be the only thing on his mind.
“You okay, Mason?” his brother asked.
Suddenly he realized he’d been staring into his drink. But the last thing they needed right now was his confused thoughts on the Hyatts complicating their vision for their racing stables. “Yeah,” he said. “Harringtons. Quite an upscale ring to it, I’d say.”
They shared a grin before Mason raised his glass once more. “We’ll make it everything he would have wanted.” If he could have had what he wanted in life...or rather taken their money to build what he’d wanted. “He was a selfless man, you know,” Mason said, preaching to the choir. “Makes me wonder if I can even attempt to live up to the man he was.”
Kane raised a brow in query at the sudden turn of the conversation. “Living in the same house with EvaMarie got you thinking a little differently?”
“How’d you guess?” Mason hated a know-it-all.
“Brother, there’s a reason I opted to oversee the transition at the home farm when we decided to buy the Hyatt estate. You need time to work through things, good or bad.”
“I didn’t expect it to be good. Didn’t expect...” Her. He shook his head. “This isn’t going how I planned.”
“Told ya so.”
Mason had a suspicion his brother was making fun of him. Now the smirk made it obvious. “I’m glad you’re enjoying this.”
“Then we’re both happy.”
“Smart-ass.”
“And practical.” Kane winked. “EvaMarie seems like a nice, capable, intelligent woman. How can she possibly complicate your life that much?”
“You’d be surprised,” Mason mumbled.
“Then I guess you shouldn’t have hired her then, huh?”
Mason hated it when his brother had a point. Luckily the waitress brought their food just then, filling the table with enough plates of steaks and sides and bread to keep them busy for quite a while. Then she headed back for another round of beer.
Mason was savoring his first bite of succulent meat when Kane’s grunt drew his attention. Kane’s gaze followed the activity over Mason’s shoulder.
A quick glance and Mason wanted to grunt himself. Daulton and Bev Hyatt were making slow progress across the main part of the restaurant floor, patiently accompanied by the friendly hostess who was chatting with the one and only Laurence Weston. Mason’s very own kryptonite, all at one table.
He turned back to his food. “Well, that’s great.”
And it only got worse. The hostess was making for a table not too far away. In fact, it was directly across the fireplace from the booth Mason and Kane occupied. Right on the edge
of Mason’s peripheral vision.
So much for enjoying dinner.
He pushed back, wiping his mouth with a few rough strokes of his cloth napkin. “I’m done.”
“Admitting defeat already?” Kane asked with an arched brow.
Why did his brother have to be such a voice of wisdom? “Are you thirty-two or eighty-two?”
Kane shrugged, that trademark Harrington grin making another appearance. “Not my fault someone has to be the adult.”
He wasn’t joking, no matter what that smile said. Only two years Mason’s senior, somehow Kane always played the adult role. He wasn’t prone to the same emotional outbursts as Mason. Very few people had seen his serious side—and they definitely regretted it when they did. When crossed, snarky, joking Kane turned cold and calculating.
A scary thing to see, even for Mason.
So he acknowledged his brother’s point with a short nod and returned to his food. No reason why the other family had to impact his and Kane’s dinner, which had started on such a bright note.
The brothers’ conversation turned desultory before they regained their normal rhythm. Their refreshed beers helped.
But it wasn’t long before the weight of unwanted attention settled on Mason. He considered ignoring it, but he just wasn’t that kind of person. A casual glance to his right showed him that, sure enough, the Hyatts were staring. Laurence had his gaze trained almost defiantly on the couple, as if he refused to lower himself to looking Mason’s way.
Mason dipped his chin in a single nod of acknowledgment, then returned his attention to Kane. “Was that adult enough?” he asked, hoping to lighten the mood.
Kane grinned. “Sure.”
But apparently it wasn’t enough for Daulton. Within minutes, snippets of the conversation across the fireplace struck them like pellets from a BB gun.
“—just a shame, in this day and age, people like that can come in and steal everything you’ve worked for.”
The low rumble of other voices answered. Mason met Kane’s look across their table. His brother sighed. “This is going to be interesting.”
