by Scarlet West
The offices were all shut along the way downstairs. It was ten past six and most of the others had gone home. I strode down to the front door, slammed it and got into my car. I drove home.
When I got there, I sat down heavily on the couch. Looked at the ceiling. I had no idea what to do now.
I had more or less quit work. What was I going to do?
I had told Heath all the buried pain that I’d never let out—could I ever dare to look him in the eye again? I shivered.
He probably thinks I’m crazy.
Maybe I was crazy. I couldn’t help smiling bitterly to myself. Here I was, being all stupid about a girl I barely knew. But it wasn’t just her—it was what all this had brought out inside me. Those years of feeling neglected, inferior, unappreciated.
And now, like all those years ago with Dad, we were trying to share someone we all cared about. At least, someone I cared about.
“Dammit,” I said aloud.
I had made up my mind, though. I was going to leave Colorado. I didn’t want to live here anymore. Didn’t want to live in the shadow of my brother and work at the company our dad made.
I looked at my phone. There was a message from Donnell. I paused, not sure whether I wanted to open it. I didn’t want to know what he had to say.
Probably he heard us arguing. Maybe Heath told him.
I wasn’t about to have my younger brother preaching at me about brotherly trust. I put my phone down and thought about my options.
I had relatives in Michigan—an uncle we barely knew. I could maybe contact him and get something organized down there. As far as I knew he was a consultant for businesses or something. Well, maybe he could help me find a job.
I did a quick search online and found our uncle. He was working at FinConsult, a company that supplied business solutions. I read through the section for careers and found a job as a consultant that seemed to quite suit me. I sent in my CV. I would phone Uncle Richard tomorrow.
I leaned back in my seat, feeling oddly blank. It felt as if my whole life I’d been carrying the terrible weight of my brother’s shadow.
Now, finally, I was free of it.
I would hand in a notice of resignation tomorrow and start to make a new life for myself—a free one. Whatever Donnell or anyone else had to say, I was getting out of here. I had to.
18
Kelsey
“No,” I said on the phone. I was up in my room, the evening pale and setting around me. Donnell, on the other side, sounded insistent.
“Kelsey,” he said. “Please.”
“I don’t know,” I sighed. “Listen, I think I should just leave all this aside.”
“I really do understand,” he said. “But I just want to talk.”
“Okay,” I said. “In which case, shall we meet for lunch?”
Donnell sounded unsure. “Okay,” he said. “But it’d probably be easier if we could talk privately?”
I bit my lip. I wasn’t sure about the sound of that. I hadn’t actually told Donnell I wasn’t interested anymore. And I wasn’t sure I was willing to risk it. What would he do?
“Maybe,” I said. “Listen. Let’s meet for lunch and then see how we feel. Okay?” That seemed safe—whatever he was planning tomorrow, I would be able to get out of it if I didn’t want to go along.
He sighed. “Okay. At Sunnyhill’s Cafe?”
“Sure,” I nodded. It was around the block from my work, a modern establishment with quite a lot to offer. I could get there and back easily in lunch hour.
“Great.”
We hung up. I leaned back, looking at the ceiling. I had no idea what I wanted to do next.
I rolled my shoulders experimentally, noting how sore they were. I could do with a trip to the gym and maybe a massage afterward. But I had a deadline for work and I needed to get things done after dinner.
I checked myself in the mirror—I didn’t look as stressed as I felt, which was a good sign—and went down.
“Kelsey,” Daddy smiled, looking up from the dinner table. He’d already started eating. I raised a brow in surprise.
“Sorry. Am I late?”
“No,” he nodded. “I asked Rochelle to keep it hot for you. If you go down to the kitchen, she’s probably left it in the warming drawer before leaving.”
“Oh. Thanks,” I nodded. I collected the plate of Rochelle’s special bake and brought it up, the sweet scent of red onion wafting up to my nose enticingly.
When I was sitting down again, Daddy looked at me with a raised brow.
“Kelsey, you’re not happy.”
“Nonsense,” I said, feeling my heart squeeze painfully as he said it. The concern seemed to make all the pain collect, suddenly—almost as if, by acknowledging it, he made me aware of it for the first time. I wasn’t sure I wanted to feel it. The mix of remorse, regret and bittersweet sadness was simply too much.
“I know it isn’t nonsense,” he said. “You don’t need to tell me what’s up. But whenever you want to talk, I’m here. So’s your mom,” he added with a smile.
I nodded, smiling too. “But only if she’s not busy painting.”
“If that,” he nodded, reaching for the pepper. He sprinkled a little on his dinner, then sampled it, nodding to himself. “If she’s working, then I’m sure she wouldn’t notice the universe collapsing.”
“No,” I smiled. “Though she might add it into her work.”
We both sat, thinking about her.
“You know,” Dad said gently, “I sometimes think about how it would be if she came to live here, in the cottage. She always thought about it, you know.”
I stared. “In Colorado?”
“Yes. In the Springs House. You know—the one I always thought about for when I retire?”
“If you retire,” I quipped. My mind was racing. If Mom moved back to Colorado, and if they considered seeing each other more than twice a year, maybe I would worry less about them.
“Yes, if that,” he chuckled mildly. “Though whether I do or not, I’ll probably stay here. Fulton’s my home.”
“I know,” I said, nodding. My dad owned five properties, Fulton being the biggest and his favorite. All the others were smaller, and he rented them out. Except the cottage, which he only let for a few weeks a year, to preserve it as best he could.
“She always liked it,” he said.
“I know.”
The cottage had a wonderful vista. Mountains on three sides, the mountain it stood on making up the fourth. It would be perfect for someone who lived to paint natural phenomena. I had never thought about the possibility before.
“She said she’d thought about it,” he said mildly. “Last time we talked.”
I stared at him. “She did?”
A whole range of thoughts went through my head, chief of which was, why didn’t you tell me?
All my life, I’d felt the burden of my reclusive father. Worrying about him isolating himself here in Fulton had been a major motivating factor in my life. And now he told me he was talking with mom? That she was planning to live here? I felt frustrated even as the soft wind of liberation seemed to, metaphorically, blow through my hair.
He smiled. “Well, I didn’t want to say yet.”
I sighed at him. “You mean, until you were sure?”
He swallowed, nodding cautiously. “Yes—that was it.”
I smiled. He had probably been worried about committing to it and then having mom change her mind on him—something she was more than capable of doing. If he’d told me, it meant she was fairly sure.
“Well, then,” I said. “That sounds wonderful.”
“It does,” he nodded.
We finished the meal talking quietly about less consequential things. When we’d finished, I went up to my room, my head reeling with thoughts. It felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off me. My parents and their happiness had always weighed on me, always seeming like a big responsibility I had to bear. Now, I felt lighter.
I worked,
finishing the task I set myself quite promptly. Then I headed off to bed, my last thought being of Donnell and what he wanted to tell me tomorrow.
Lunchtime eventually arrived. I headed to the cafe.
“Kelsey?” Donnell stared at me as I walked in. He was at a table in the back, reading a newspaper.
“Hi Donnell.”
I sat down opposite him, reaching for the menu as a distraction. He was looking at me with those intense brown eyes and I wondered what he wanted to talk to me about. I felt uncertain.
I don’t want to play this game, but how to let him know?
I wasn’t sure.
“I ordered water for both of us,” he said, frowning. “It comes in big bottles.” He gestured at the counter, where the pitchers of water, with added fruits to flavor the ice-cold beverage, stood ready.
I nodded. “That’s good,” I said distractedly. He seemed so on edge—it was really unlike Donnell to talk so randomly.
“There isn’t much variety,” he added, indicating the menu. “But what they do, they do well.”
“Mm,” I agreed, selecting a Thai wrap. I leaned back, studying Donnell’s face. He looked strained.
“I’ll have the four-cheese sandwich,” he said to the waiter when he arrived. I placed my order and then leaned back and studied Donnell.
“What is it?” I asked.
He sighed. “There’s a lot I need to say, Kelsey. Maybe it would be better if we talked somewhere else?”
I looked around the restaurant—it was far from full, even though it was lunchtime on a Friday afternoon.
“It’s not like anyone is listening—not really,” I pointed out.
He sighed. “Yeah, you’re right. Oh, thanks.” he took the water that arrived at our table, chilled and packed with fruit, and poured some for both of us.
I sipped it, considering.
“Is this about…what happened on Tuesday?” I asked. I meant him and I.
He raised a brow, his brown eyes lighting up. “Well, I hadn’t planned that,” he admitted ruefully. “Though if you want to chat about that, I wouldn’t mind. No, it’s about something else.”
“Oh.”
“It’s about my family.”
“Oh?” I frowned. Lifted my glass and studied it, noting absently that the grapes floated better than cherries. I must really be stressed, if I was busy trying to work out why that should be. The stones in the cherries, perhaps? I tried not to focus on Donnell, though my curiosity was almost catching fire.
My family, he’d said. Grayson?
“Yes,” he said. “And I need to ask you if you’ll trust me.”
I stared at him. Put my glass down. All thoughts about grapes and cherries, and Grayson, fled. I felt my heart start to thump, slowly and insistently, in my chest.
Would I trust Donnell Bradford?
“Maybe,” I said.
I looked at him, considering. His dark eyes stared gravely back and I felt a twist of something—excitement, danger?—start to move in me.
“Okay,” he said. “But let’s have lunch, first, huh?”
I nodded as the waiter delivered a plate of something spice smelling and delicious to the table in front of me. I realized I was starving. As I ate, I couldn’t help considering what had happened and wondering what this was all about.
“Okay,” I said, when we’d both finished. We’d been conversing sparsely, mostly about the good quality of the meal and how it was weird there were fewer guests in the place. Now it was time. “Let’s talk.”
He leaned back. He looked at me levelly. “I need to ask you to do something for me,” he said. “Something important.”
I stared at him. “What?”
“You know Grayson’s falling for you, right?”
I dropped my fork. It landed on my plate with a crash, making people look steadily in our direction. I flushed, embarrassed, and sat back in the chair.
“You serious?” I hissed. I had suspected it, I had to admit. But to have Donnell say it, as mildly as if he’d asked if I was aware that trade in the property sector was rising…well, it shocked me.
He raised his shoulders in a shrug. “You said you trusted me,” he said.
I put my head on one side, giving him a considering stare. “I said I might.”
He grinned then. I had forgotten, almost, what a hot guy he was. I felt my body respond to that smile before I’d really thought about it.
“Yeah,” he said. “I should have noticed that very important distinction. Anyhow. You know I’m right.”
“Yes,” I nodded briefly. “I know you are. So? What d’you want me to do?”
I leaned back while he cleared his throat, gathering my thoughts. My heart raced at the memories of Grayson—that first night, then being together recently. That walk in the park, where he’d spoken so intimately to me, as if we’d known each other for years though we’d only just met.
Grayson was falling for me?
I knew only that I was falling for him.
“I want you to talk to him. Yes, I know you don’t want to go there. So I have an idea.”
I frowned. “What idea, Donnell?”
Again, it came to my mind that it was just possible he was leading me astray; that he had some other plan in mind and another agenda altogether. That I had no reason for thinking him honest.
“Well,” he paused. “I’m just planning to have a dinner at my house. For three. Would you come?”
“Oh no,” I said, shaking my head. “You’re not thinking about, well…three of us?”
He stared at me. To my surprise, he looked angry.
“Kelsey?” he said. “You don’t really think I’d do that?”
I shrugged. Recalled the other night and the hedonism of that.
“Maybe,” I said lightly.
“I asked you to trust me, he said, sounding wounded. “And that’s what you think of me?”
“Well?” I shrugged. “It’s not like I called you a mass murderer or something,” I said softly. “It’s just that I thought, well…it’s not simple.”
“No,” he admitted. “But some things are simple. And that’s the stuff in here.” He put his hand on his chest, over his heart.
I stared at him. Very slowly, I nodded.
“Yeah,” I agreed softly. “Yeah, it’s true.”
He smiled hesitantly. I nodded. I felt my heart expanding. It felt, stupidly, as if just by mentioning it, he had allowed me to feel all the things I’d been suppressing for so long.
We finished the water and talked a bit more.
“So,” he said. “Saturday evening? Work for you? My place?”
I nodded slowly. It would be weird, meeting Grayson there, with so many memories. But with them both there, for dinner, the space would be entirely different.
“Yeah,” I said. “That’d be nice.”
“Great,” he said. He sounded, if anything, like someone who’d unburdened himself.
“See you,” I nodded. “Six thirty?”
“Right,” he nodded. He poured me water and frowned.
“The cherries have sunk.”
Looking into his eyes, I burst out laughing.
“I know,” I said. “I think it’s the pips inside them.” I was laughing hard and then he was laughing too. We both looked at the jug and leaned on the table, laughing with relief and the sheer lightness of being.
The other customers must have thought we were a bit odd, because we got some funny glances as they settled down.
I didn’t care. I was so happy.
I had talked with Donnell. The matters of the heart—mine, and Grayson—were out in the open now. And we were going to do something about it, together.
19
Grayson
I was surprised when Donnell called me. It was Friday afternoon. I’d reported in sick from work that morning—I just didn’t want to face anyone, least of all Heath. Not before I’d made up my mind.
“Hello?” I said, surprised. I leaned back on the
couch, the afternoon sun shining down on me warmly. I felt a little better as I heard his voice.
“Hi, Grayson,” he said. “I just wanted to call to make sure you’re okay? It was weird not having you there today.”
“Thanks,” I said. “I think.”
He laughed. I felt my spirits raised a little by his warm concern.
“Well,” he said, “I mean it. Listen, I wanted to invite you over for dinner tomorrow evening? I’m trying a new recipe and I thought that it’d be nice to have someone to share it with?”
“A fellow victim?” I laughed. “Not really. You’re good, Donnell.” I knew cookery was a hobby, and one he prided himself on. And rightly so—he was good at it.
“That’s good to know,” he said. “So?”
I sighed. “You’re inviting Heath?” I asked.
Of all our brothers, I had absolutely no inclination to see Heath right now. I still felt raw after our altercation the other day. I really didn’t want to have to face him and thrash through all that—not now. Possibly not ever.
“I haven’t,” he admitted. “Or Clarke. Anyway, Clarke’s out of town this week.”
“At that training thing? I know.”
“So?” he asked again.
I sighed. “Okay,” I agreed. “Sounds good. What’re you going to make for us?”
“It’s a British thing,” he said. “Like, with parsnips and stuff in the oven, and trout…”
“Count6 me in,” I said. “Is this from that new cookbook you bought?”
“Yup.”
“Awesome.”
I could already feel my stomach twisting expectantly and realized that I was actually hungry right now—I’d been too distracted all day to remember to go to the store. I’d called my uncle that morning and we’d agreed to meet, maybe next weekend, to plan.
“So,” my younger brother continued. “Six thirty?”
“Great,” I said. “Listen, I have to go out to get some groceries. I’ll chat later, huh?”
“You do that,” he said. If he noticed that I seemed to be wonderfully healthy all of a sudden, he didn’t seem surprised. “See you tomorrow.”
“Excited for it,” I said. I was.
