Eve’s parents looked equal parts bewildered and relieved, as if these were the words they’d longed to hear but had never expected to. That, more than anything, spurred her on. Clearly, Eve had spent more than enough of her twenties avoiding responsibility—but that ended now. It ended today. Which meant expressing herself fully, being open and honest, being the best person she could hope to be for herself and for the people she loved. The people who loved her.
“The thing is,” she continued, “there was no need for what happened at Castell Cottage. It’s not as if I completely disappeared. I remained in contact with my sisters, and I’m an adult woman with a brown belt in karate.”
From the corner of the kitchen, she heard Zaf murmur, “Er . . . she’s a what?”
Eve plowed on. “Your worries for me were valid, but instead of expressing them, you skipped straight to—to DEFCON Five.”
“Actually,” Chloe interjected, “DEFCON One is the—”
“Shut up, Chloe! This applies to you, too, by the way. And you, Dan. I appreciate you all being worried for my welfare. But couldn’t you have asked me about the situation before you all showed up and created a scene at my place of employment? Couldn’t one of you have said, Hey, Eve, we have some questions and concerns about X, Y, and Z, so we’d like to come visit? Or did none of you believe I’d respond in a reasonable, adult manner? That I’d understand, and give you the information you needed to feel comfortable?” Eve waited for a moment, her jaw tight.
No one spoke, though Mum had the grace to look ashamed. Dad shuffled uncomfortably, too—as well he might, since Mum never did anything they hadn’t both agreed upon, and for all his quietness, Dad enjoyed and strongly endorsed his wife’s frequent bouts of bonkersness.
Focusing on her parents, she said, “If you want me to behave like an adult, you need to give me the space to do so. Instead, you treated me like a child. I got a job,” Eve went on, “for myself. A job I was committed to, and that I—that I loved—” Oh dear, her voice was wobbling. Stop thinking about Jacob. Stop it! She cleared her throat and continued. “I did exactly as you asked. But you interfered in a manner that damaged my—my chosen career.”
Dad, looking oddly pleased, interjected. “Career, is it?”
Eve desperately wanted to say yes, which gave her a flash of habitual anxiety. Sometimes (all right, fine: often) she felt as if wanting things too badly meant dooming herself to fail. But she wanted Jacob more than anything, and they couldn’t be doomed. So she refused to accept that feeling any longer. Refused to even consider it.
She’d lived in fear of failure for far too long.
“Yes,” she said after a moment. “Yes. My career.” Cooking to start people’s mornings off right, taking care of the little touches that made a house feel like a home, chatting with different guests every day and feeling as if charm could be meaningful rather than a glittering waste of time. That was her career, or it would be soon. Eve knew what she wanted, and she wasn’t afraid of it.
“I will always be grateful for the things you’ve done for me,” she told her parents quietly. “For the privileges and safety nets you’ve afforded me, for the ways you’ve supported me when I didn’t know who I was, even for pushing me to get a grip and make a change. I’m trying my best to make you proud, and I always will. But I’m never going to be like everyone else. I’m not even going to be like the rest of this family, as much as I love you all. I’m a different person and I need different things and I work in a different way, and that’s okay.”
It occurred to Eve that this would be a convenient time to mention her recent discovery vis-à-vis autism, et cetera, but she didn’t want that conversation to be a family argument in the kitchen. She wanted it to be something easy and familiar that she mentioned one day, all casually, and everyone else responded relatively casually, and everything was fine and no one looked at her for too long, and maybe Jacob was there and he held her hand.
So, not yet. Not today. Because this was her knowledge, to do with what she wanted.
Instead of blurting it out, then, she simply finished her outburst with a different truth. “I’m changing. I’m figuring myself out. You need to respect that, and let it continue, because I am an adult and I have been for quite some time. Even if I haven’t always acted like it. All right?”
There was a heavy pause during which Eve became distinctly nervous that she might have to put her foot down harder than intended. She found herself wondering WWJD: What Would Jacob (King of Boundaries, First of His Name) Do?
Then Mum swallowed hard and nodded, her neat bob brushing her cheekbones as she stepped forward. “You’re right, of course, my darling. I apologize.”
Dad came next, catching Eve’s hands and giving them a quick squeeze. “We’re sorry, Evie. Really. We were just worried about you. But you’re correct.”
“We’re very proud of you,” Mum said, pursing her lips in a way that meant she was hiding a smile.
Eve didn’t bother to hide hers. “Well, wonderful. Glad to hear it. Very emotional reunion, et cetera, but now I’m afraid I’ve got to dash so I can win Jacob back, and so on and so forth, so . . . bye!” She kissed her parents’ cheeks, then turned on her heel and whipped out of the kitchen.
“Evie, wait!” She’d barely made it down the hall before Dani’s voice followed her. Pausing by the front door, Eve grabbed her shoes and turned to face her sister—no, sisters, Dani striding toward her and Chloe hurrying behind.
“What’s up? I’m on a tight schedule.” Actually, Eve was on no schedule beyond the one that went:
Find Jacob.
Insist she would never leave Jacob.
Proceed to never leave Jacob, regardless of how much he may protest.
But she was slightly—only slightly—distracted from that particular plan when she noticed the uncharacteristically nervous looks on her sisters’ faces. Chloe, in particular, might possibly be sweating. Chloe! Sweating!
“Are you all right, darling?” Eve asked. “Do you need me to open a window? Are you having a wobble? Is—”
“I’m fine.” Chloe flapped a hand, then sighed heavily. “Except for the part where I’m drowning in guilt.”
Eve blinked. “Oh. Erm. I see.”
“We’re sorry, is what she’s trying to say,” Dani interjected. “We were interfering cows and you’re absolutely right—we should’ve asked a few more questions before jumping to the sex cult conclusion.”
“Now your job is all . . . fudged,” Chloe said, “and it’s all our fault.”
“Not entirely,” Dani added. “It was also Zaf’s fault.”
“Safety first,” came a grim, rumbling voice from down the hall. Eve looked up to discover her sisters’ boyfriends were also hovering at the edge of the Group of Guilt.
“Oh, how wonderful,” Eve said brightly. “Now everyone is in my business. It’s a venerable party.”
“Did you mean veritable, darling?”
“I meant what I meant!” Eve snapped, her temper ratcheting up by the second. Jacob never asked what she meant. Jacob just paid attention and focused on what actually mattered and got the bloody hell on with it, and didn’t make her feel silly or frivolous or childish—which was understandable, since she wasn’t any of those things. Or rather, she wasn’t just those things. She was herself, and she’d demanded he respect that—all of it—and now she was going to demand everyone else did, too.
“Right,” Chloe winced. “Sorry, darling. I just thought I should admit that—well. That I might possibly have been the one who started the entire visit. Not Mum and Dad.”
Well, now. That was unexpected.
“Basically,” Red piped up from down the hall, “Chloe heard that voice note and decided you were in grave danger.”
“And I said,” Dani interjected, “in danger of what? Having her brains bonked out?”
“But then Zaf said,” Chloe went on, “that intimate relationships with superiors were dangerous ground, ripe for potential coercion,
and that we didn’t even know the man, and should therefore intercede.”
Zaf crossed his massive arms over his massive chest and glowered. “Actually, I said it all seemed a bit dodgy and we should give her a ring.”
“But then I accidentally asked Gigi for her opinion,” Dani said, “and she told Aunty Mary, who told Mother, and it was all over.”
All over indeed.
Eve sighed and squeezed the bridge of her nose. “You know what? It really doesn’t matter who started it. This entire family is a lost cause and I love you all very much, but we’ll pick this up later. I need to get back to Skybriar.”
Dani grinned. “Are you wildly in love with your boss? Zaf says you might be.”
Eve narrowed her eyes and pointed at Zafir. “Stop that.”
He flashed a shockingly pretty smile. “Which means yes.”
“Oh, bugger off, the lot of you. I have to go.” She snagged her car keys and opened the door.
“Er, hang on a second,” Zaf said, his eyebrows shooting up in alarm. “Didn’t you run someone over the last time you got behind a wheel?”
Eve glared. “The second to last time, actually.”
“Still, though. And aren’t you in a rush?”
“Yes, which is why I’d appreciate it if you’d—”
“All right,” Red interjected, pushing off the wall—did the man do anything other than lean?—and strolling past her out of the door. “This is easily sorted,” he said as he approached the gleaming blue Triumph parked innocuously on her parents’ gravel driveway. “All things considered, Eve, how’s about I give you a lift?”
Chapter Twenty-One
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Jacob growled.
Tessa shot him a look from the driver’s seat. “Don’t you curse at me, Jacob Wayne. I’m a lady.”
“I think he’s cursing the traffic, actually,” Alex piped up from the back seat.
“Yes,” Jacob gritted out. He’d assumed that was obvious. It had been over an hour since he’d left the B&B in Mont’s hands, yet they were barely eighty miles closer to the address Eve had left on file, an address belonging to one Chloe Brown.
Jacob’s original plan had been to get up bright and early this morning, jump in his car, drive or possibly fly to Chloe’s house, get Eve’s whereabouts from her—or, ideally, find Eve in the guest bedroom—and then . . . er . . . fix things. He was still a little hazy on that part, but he had the necessary passion and determination, and he was also going to grab some flowers on the way so he could get down on his knees and apologize as profusely as she deserved. Seriously. He was going to apologize so goddamn hard, and then some more, and then some more, just to really emphasize the point.
Well—that had been the plan, anyway. But things had gone horribly wrong from the moment Mont had pointed out Jacob shouldn’t drive himself with a fractured wrist, and it had all gone downhill from there.
“Then again,” Alex continued thoughtfully. “Maybe he is cursing at you. You never can tell, with Jacob.”
Jacob turned to glare at her. “Why are you here again? I’m quite sure it takes one Montrose to drive a car.”
Alex grinned, looking unnervingly like her brother. “I’m here in case you break down, Jake.”
“Bullshit. You’re here for the drama.”
“Who, me?” She pressed a hand to her chest and pasted on an expression of shock. “God, man. Have a bit of faith.”
Tessa giggled.
Jacob let his head fall back against the seat. “I’m going to die of frustration before I ever see her again.”
“Was that a sex joke?” Tessa asked.
Alex snorted. “Save those for Eve, my guy.”
“Maybe he’s practicing.”
“Ha! Maybe he’s—”
“I appreciate you driving me, Tess, I really do,” Jacob said, “but would you two please shut the fuck up?”
“Woo. Touchy.” Tessa smirked, hit the brake for the thousandth time in the last ten minutes, then pulled up the handbrake. In front of them, what looked like a mile of cars sat bumper to bumper in the late morning sunlight. It was, Jacob thought dully, a beautiful day. Pity he wouldn’t be able to enjoy it after his head inevitably exploded.
“You’re thinking about Eve again, aren’t you?” Alex prodded. “You ever consider, I don’t know—calling her?”
Well, there was a diamond fucking idea. Except . . . “I’m trying to be romantic. You know, like in books. She’s into that stuff,” he mumbled. “Anyway, you know I’m better in person.”
“Oh, yeah. Good point,” Alex allowed.
“I think it’s sweet,” Tess said. “I think she’ll be thrilled.”
Jacob’s heart leapt. “Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. Unless she hates your guts for sending her away, in which case she might laugh in your face and tell you to jog on.”
Jacob’s heart sank. “Oh.”
Tess winced. “Oh my God, Jake, no, that was a joke! I’m sorry. I was joking.”
Unfortunately, the situation she’d laid out seemed all too likely. But Jacob couldn’t see a world in which he didn’t try his fucking hardest for Eve Brown, and if that meant setting himself up for the most brutal rejection of his life, well. He supposed he’d just have to deal with it.
“Leave him alone, Tess,” Alex ordered, leaning between their seats. “Hey, do you hear that? Wicked purr.” She squinted at the road. “Is that a Triumph?”
“Alexandra,” Jacob said, “I truly could not give a fuck.” But he saw the Triumph—couldn’t miss it, a flash of blue on the other side of the road, steered by a lanky bloke in leather, winding through the traffic with enviable speed. Still, when the temporary traffic lights on that side turned red, the bike had to stop just like everyone else.
Jacob sighed and screwed his eyes shut. Maybe he should call Eve. Because with every second he spent not fixing things, all he could think about was the look on her face when he’d pushed her away. And if he thought about that too much, his heart might break as surely as his goddamn wrist.
* * *
Red’s motorbike turned out to be an excellent idea, because on the way to the Lake District they hit unbelievable traffic. Eve squeezed her eyes shut, took shallow breaths to minimize smog inhalation, and tried not to die of nerves.
Grand gestures were supposed to be executed immediately, otherwise one got all tangled with violent emotion. Like the growing fear that words might not be enough, and the urge to see Jacob now, now, now, anyway.
Then, out of nowhere, she did see him. Jacob, that is. She looked up through the visor of her helmet as they reached a temporary traffic light, and on the other side of the cones sat Jacob’s car, with Tessa at the wheel and Jacob himself in the passenger seat.
“Oh. My. God.” The wind whipped her words away. Which is why, instead of screaming for Red to pull over properly, she pinched him in the ribs. Then she screamed. “Pull over pull over pull over pull over pull—”
The lights turned to green, but instead of racing away, Red guided them steadily to the edge of the road and kicked off the engine. “What?” he demanded as he yanked off his helmet. “You dying or something?”
Eve barely heard. Her braids spilled over her shoulders as she removed her own helmet and shoved it at Red before getting off the bike. The other lights would change soon and then Jacob would be gone. He couldn’t be gone. She pinned her gaze to the sharp lines of his profile, the glint of his glasses and the sheen of his perfectly neat and tidy hair, and ran—
Except no she didn’t, because Red grabbed her wrist in an iron grip and yanked her back. “Eve! Would you watch the road? If I let you get hit by a car, your sister will fucking garrote me.”
She spun around to scowl at him. “I was watching! Sort of.” She really hadn’t been.
“Where the hell are you going? I thought we had to find this guy in—”
A flat, impenetrable voice rose over the rumble of traffic. “Let. Go. Of. Her.”
Eve turned to find Jacob standing beside her like a column of frost and fury. Judging by the look on his face, if Red didn’t respond in an appropriate manner, Jacob might commit roadside murder in her honor. Which was very romantic. She nearly swooned, in fact, but then she decided that losing consciousness would not be conducive to getting him back.
Red’s coppery eyebrows flew up as he stared at Jacob. Then his surprise faded into a slight smile, and he released her hand. “You good, Evie?”
“Mmm hmm. Yep. So good. Super good. Thank you for the lift okay bye now!” She grabbed Jacob’s arm and dragged him away.
This road was long and narrow, bracketed by the copse-heavy edges of two country fields. Sections of daisy-dotted grass and massive, ancient trees lined the tarmac, and it was into their sunlight-dappled shadow that Eve towed Jacob like an unusually agreeable boat. His out-of-character docility could bode well or ill; she hadn’t decided which. Then again, she was struggling to think straight enough to decide anything. All she could do was stare at the man in front of her, from the starched collar of his perfectly ironed shirt to the familiar name tag on his chest that read HELLO, MY NAME IS: JACOB with more cheer than he’d ever managed to offer a stranger. She swallowed hard, her throat drier than a desperation desert. Now seemed like the perfect time to speak, to say the countless things she’d rehearsed on the way here—except her heart was melting like chocolate on a summer’s day, dripping down through her rib cage to pool in her stomach, and the sensation was rather distracting.
Jacob’s jaw bunched and he shifted his weight ever so slightly from one foot to the other. His hand rose toward his glasses, faltered, fell. Rose again, smoothed over his already smooth hair, and fell. He opened his mouth, closed it, and Eve wondered vaguely if he was having trouble telling her that he still didn’t want to see her ever again and, since he’d established she wasn’t being kidnapped by a giant tattooed biker, she should go away now.
Act Your Age, Eve Brown Page 29
