by Olivia Miles
“Okay, you really need to chill out,” he said, but she noticed the amusement that flashed through his dark pupils.
“And would chill out include casually kissing, or friends with benefits, or whatever else you have planned?”
His jaw twitched, and his eyes fell flat. “I don’t have anything planned, Ivy. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want something.”
Her mouth went dry as she stared at him across the room, and suddenly her cozy little shop felt very small. Too small. Like the walls were caving in and she didn’t know which way to turn. Or what to believe. Or if what he was offering was good enough.
“You should get some rest,” he said, reaching for his coat and the sad arrangement of flowers. “Good night, Ivy.”
She stood still, watching as he slipped out the door and disappeared into the darkness.
So he was proving to be a nice guy after all. The guy with all the qualities she’d first noticed in him. That didn’t mean he was capable of giving her what she needed.
She’d have to reread Running from the Ring: Men Who Simply Can’t Commit again tonight. Lord knew she wouldn’t be getting any sleep.
The flower arrangement looked out of place sitting on the coffee table in the carriage house. He’d have given them to his mother if they’d turned out any better, but the sad state of things would only call into question who made them, and there was no disguising the fact that he had. No doubt his brother would tease him for months over taking this class, if Rosemary hadn’t already let everyone in town know about it. There’d be no explaining it, not unless he wanted to profess his feelings for Ivy.
Feelings. He’d made it his point not to have any. For women. For patients. Sometimes, even for his own family. And he’d failed on every account.
His gut stirred as it always did when he thought of that woman out there somewhere, with a baby by now. A baby who would grow up without a father. Just as Brett had.
He clenched a fist, trying to hold back the building emotions, but it was no use. Nothing could change the fact that a man was dead. Nothing Brett did could bring him back.
Just like nothing could have changed the fact that his mother developed cancer that he couldn’t wish away.
That Ivy had diabetes.
He’d promised himself a long time ago not to get close, not to care so much, to distance himself from that type of hurt and pain and potential loss that came with illnesses and diseases that could only be managed but not cured. He’d vowed never to cry himself to sleep the way he had so many nights when he was young, alone in the house with Mark, their mother still in the hospital hooked up to machines.
Headlights illuminated the backyard, and Brett stood, walking to the windows to see Mark’s car pulling to a stop in front of the garage below. Grinning, he unlocked the door and cracked it, then walked to the fridge and took out two beers.
“Saw your light on,” Mark said. “Do you mind?”
“Not at all.” He was grateful for the company. He handed his brother a beer and nodded toward the leather couch.
Boxes were still stacked along the far wall and Mark gestured to one. “Still moving in or moving out?”
Brett took a long pull on his beer. “I can’t stay here forever.”
Mark frowned. “The carriage house or Briar Creek?”
Brett shifted against the couch and considered his options. Mark understood him better than anyone. “Honestly, I’m not sure.”
He took another sip of his beer, unsettled. As much as he hated to admit it, now that he was back, a part of him would be sad to leave.
“What about the job?”
“It’s temporary,” Brett reminded his brother. “Through the end of the year. It’s not exactly what I set out to do, either.”
“Does Mom know that?”
He gave his brother a knowing look, and Mark whistled under his breath. “She’s not going to be happy.”
“I know.” Brett frowned.
“Neither am I,” Mark admitted. “But I get it. Briar Creek’s a pretty small place for so much history.”
Too much history, Brett considered. And now, after getting close to Ivy, there would be even more. He didn’t want Ivy to be a girl he looked back on or who triggered additional bad feelings and guilt about his hometown. He wanted… more than he could have with her, he supposed.
Her life was here. And his wasn’t.
“It won’t be easy to leave again.” If anything, it would be harder than ever. Last time he’d come to town was before his mother’s scare, before her cancer was foremost in his mind again. Before he started thinking of Ivy, caring about her.
Mark just shrugged. “You’ve done it before. I would have thought you’d be a pro by now.”
Brett narrowed his eyes. He and Mark had always gotten along, but he still wondered, and worried, what his brother really thought of him. Now his worst fear was being voiced. “Do you really think I’m that cold?”
Mark held his stare evenly. “I’m just saying that you’ve had no problem staying away for long periods of time in the past. Hell, we’ve barely seen you for more than a few days at a time in over a decade. I don’t see what’s changed now.”
“It wasn’t all by choice,” Brett said, feeling his defenses rise. His hours were unforgiving, always had been.
“I know. But it doesn’t change the facts.”
Nope, it didn’t. Brett shook his head and drained his beer. His brother had a point, one he didn’t want to hear, but it was the last part of his statement that hit him the hardest.
Something had changed. And that made him uncomfortable.
He glanced at the flowers, still on the coffee table, and wondered if Mark had noticed them yet. Instead his brother shifted topics to the restaurant and his wedding plans. When he stood to leave, Brett stopped him.
“Do me a favor and don’t say anything to Mom just yet about my plans. Nothing’s decided yet.”
Mark held his stare for a long time and finally nodded. “Hey, it’s your life. Only you know what’s best.”
Only he didn’t. Once he thought he knew, but not anymore.
He closed the door behind his brother and eyed the blinking light on his phone. The email from the hospital in DC, still unopened. His finger hovered over the button, so close it wouldn’t take much to press down, learn his fate once and for all and adjust accordingly. He’d always let opportunity be his guide—how could he justify ever passing it up? But emotions were starting to cloud his judgment, make him doubt himself. Make him rethink his past and his future.
He set the phone on the kitchen counter. Only a few weeks ago, the thought of checking that message would have filled him with hope and relief. But now… now it just filled him with dread.
CHAPTER
23
As Ivy had hoped, the sun came out just in time for Jane’s bridal shower on Sunday, filling the Madisons’ childhood home with light. Ivy shifted a vase to a better angle and stepped back from the dining table that had been set up as a buffet. She hadn’t been back in this house since the fall, and that visit was one she was trying not to remember.
Sophie skipped up to her, grabbed a cookie from a tray, and flashed her a big smile. Immediately Ivy noticed the grown-up tooth that was already starting to fill the gap where her front teeth used to be and realized the little girl was waiting for her reaction.
“My, my, is that a big-girl tooth I see?” She couldn’t help but smile as Sophie nodded proudly.
“Yep! Hopefully this one won’t fall out any time soon or my mom will start crying again…”
Ivy laughed. “Hopefully that tooth never falls out. I like your dress, by the way.”
Smiling, Sophie smoothed the skirt of her dress. “Henry bought it for me. Is he your brother?”
Even though this had been established, the concept was still a lot for Sophie to take in. “Yes, he is my brother. The best brother a girl could have.”
“I have a brother,” Sophie said quietly. Thoug
h it wasn’t talked about much, Jane’s ex and his new wife had welcomed a baby boy in the spring. “Mommy said maybe after she and Henry get married, I’ll have another one.”
Ivy’s heart swelled for her brother. Just seeing how he was with Sophie, she knew he would make a wonderful father. “How do you feel about that?”
Sophie scrunched up her nose. “I told Mommy that sounded all right, but only if it’s a girl this time. Boys aren’t fancy.”
With that she took another cookie and darted into the living room, where the rest of the women were gathered. Ivy watched the little girl go, her pink dress trailing behind her, and eyed the buffet. Cookies. Cakes. It had been Sophie’s idea to make the shower a tea party, and Jane being Jane went along with it.
Of course that meant there was next to nothing that Ivy would be able to eat, unless she wanted to increase her insulin and spend the majority of the party monitoring her sugar levels. She’d reassured Jane over and over that she didn’t care, that it was her party, after all, and Ivy could eat a cucumber sandwich or something… but she hated cucumber, and the truth was, she did care. Even now, all grown up, she still felt singled out and different. Like an outsider, instead of one of the group.
She looked around at the beautiful house she’d spent so much time in as a child, always finding comfort and happiness here and always feeling the abrupt sting of reality when it was time to go home. To her real home. With Henry, and her mother, and the unknown…
“There you are.” Kathleen Madison’s smile could be heard in the warmth of her voice, and Ivy felt her eyes tingle a little as Jane’s mother set an arm around her shoulder. “The flowers look lovely. Thank you for being such a good friend to my girls.”
“Sisters now,” Ivy marveled. It still hit her every once in a while that her brother was marrying her best friend’s little sister and that somehow, in a roundabout way, she was almost a part of the family now, too. An official part.
“Come on in and join the others. Did you try Anna’s cake?”
“Oh. I saw it. It’s beautiful.” And it was, white and pink with such pretty piping and sugar flowers that it was nearly too pretty to eat. But as she followed Kathleen into the living room, she saw that its aesthetics hadn’t stopped the others, who were happily scooping silky frosting onto their spoons and bringing it to their mouths.
Anna noticed Ivy’s empty hands and looked startled. “Didn’t you get a piece? There’s more.” She stood and cut a perfect wedge for Ivy.
Ivy picked up a fork weakly and eyed the three perfect layers of the cake.
Anna was watching her expectantly, as was Kathleen, and for lack of anything else to do in the moment, Ivy winced and lowered her voice. “I’m actually having some stomach problems today…”
Anna’s blue eyes popped. “Oh. Oh, you poor thing. Here,” she said, taking the plate, “I’ll wrap it up for you for later.”
“Thanks.” Ivy smiled in relief. The party was going to be a success—not overshadowed by her drama, like Grace’s had been.
But as she looked around the room at all the women, she started to feel the walls pull away from her. Most of them were married or engaged, several already had children, and the closest thing she had to a love life was a guy who couldn’t figure out what he wanted and seemed hell-bent on leading her on and letting her down.
It had been a week since the night of the flower arranging class. A week since Brett’s kiss. A week with no phone call, no sight of him, nothing.
Just like before…
Ivy spotted Kara across the room and quickly made her way over to her. “Is it just me or does it seem like we’re the only two single girls here?”
“Tell me about it,” Kara sighed. “I’m on my third piece of cake. If my mother notices, I’ll never hear the end of it.” She shoveled the last bit into her mouth and chewed woefully.
“She means well,” Ivy said.
“That’s easy for you to say. She’s not your mother.” Kara set a hand on Ivy’s arm when she winced. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be so insensitive. It’s just…”
“I understand,” Ivy said, and she did. Rosemary had a big personality, and Kara wasn’t as self-assured as her mother. It couldn’t be easy living in that shadow.
Ivy should know.
“No, I shouldn’t make comments like that.”
“I’m your friend. You don’t need to treat me with kid gloves,” Ivy reassured her, or maybe pleaded was a better word. All her life, she’d been treated differently because of her mother, and she didn’t need that following her into adulthood. “Is she still trying to set you up?”
“Oh, probably.” Kara pursed her lips. “I’m just tired of feeling like nothing I do is ever right.”
“What about your cookies?” Ivy brightened. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen them on the buffet table. The ones Sophie kept snatching were from Anna—she’d come to recognize them over the years. “You should have brought some today.”
“No,” Kara said quickly. “This is Jane’s day, and Anna’s her sister. I didn’t want to overstep.”
“About the cookies,” Ivy suddenly remembered. “Jane told me Anna gave her your box for Sophie’s school bake sale.”
Kara looked at her with interest. “The box I gave her as a gift?”
Ivy nodded. “Apparently Jane forgot about the event and went to Anna to see if there was anything on hand.”
“So she might not have commented because she still hasn’t tried them…” Kara beamed.
Ivy surveyed the room. The conversations were winding down, and they’d be opening gifts soon. While they were discussing Kara’s cookies, she decided to indulge in a topic she had promised herself all the way here she would avoid, because, well, she couldn’t resist.
“So, um, have you… talked to Brett lately? About the cookies and the fundraiser and all that?” Smooth, Ivy. Real smooth.
Luckily, Kara was too busy scraping what remained of the frosting on her plate to notice the eagerness Ivy felt. “Oh, not recently. I think he went back to Baltimore for a few days.”
This news came as a surprise. A ping of hope surged through her. Maybe that was why he hadn’t called.
“Knowing him, he’s probably already making plans to go back,” Kara added, and walked into the kitchen to deposit her plate.
“Ivy! Come sit here!” Sophie was calling across the room, grinning ear to ear. “My mommy just told me that when she marries Henry, I get another aunt… and it’s you!”
Ivy blinked away the tears that had now formed in her eyes and crossed to give the little girl a hug. Only she wasn’t so sure what was hitting her harder: the fact that she was finding that perfect little cozy family she’d always dreamed of or the fact that yet again, it felt a little secondhand.
The first place Brett stopped when he got back to Briar Creek was Hastings. It had been a long drive from DC, and he was still wound up from the interview. As surprised as he was to admit it, only one thing could ease his agitation right now, and his mother would be pretty pleased to hear it.
“Chocolate chip pancakes,” he said, sliding onto a stool.
She poured him a cup of coffee, even though it was late afternoon. “How was the drive?”
“Long,” he said. Too long and too quiet. He’d been up since light broke, and he had a solid nine hours to replay the interview, oscillating between worrying he would get the job and worrying he wouldn’t. It was a first-class hospital, one of the best emergency departments in the Mid-Atlantic and a place he’d be proud to put on his résumé. But it would also be much like the position he’d come from. High stakes, high pressure. High stress.
But it was also the kind of job he’d set out to have. The kind he’d stayed on the path for. Sacrificed for. How could he turn it down?
He eyed his mother as she took another order, laughing at something one of the regulars said. The old man had been coming here since Brett was a kid. Brett had left town, gone on to build an entire life somewhe
re else, and all this time, Mr. Adams was sitting here, sipping his coffee and reading the paper.
For a moment, it was hard not to envy the guy.
The same thought took over every time he considered the path he’d not chosen. What his life might have looked like if he’d stayed. He’d eased the guilt by telling himself the outcome would have been the same. His mother would have gotten well, and then she would have relapsed. Being here couldn’t have changed that.
He was hoping one day he’d finally accept it.
“Heard you went to that flower arranging class last week,” his mother said with a gleam in her eyes.
Brett set his forearms down on the table and sighed. “Who told you?”
“More like, who didn’t?” Mark’s voice boomed behind him. Sliding onto the stool beside him, he slapped Brett on the back and grinned. “Heard you broke more than a dozen flower stems. Are you causing Ivy trouble?”
Brett stilled, then, after he realized what his brother meant, tried to relax. His laugh felt strained as he reached for his mug again, only to find it empty.
Causing Ivy trouble was the last thing he wanted, but he had a bad suspicion that was exactly what he was doing. There was no point in getting involved with her now—not when he could be leaving town as early as next month.
“What were you doing in that class anyway?” Mark asked, walking around the counter to help himself to a carafe of fresh brew. “I told you all the girls were going—” He stopped, his eyes lighting up like they used to when they were little, when he discovered Brett had kept that snapping turtle in a box behind the garage instead of marching it back to the lake per their father’s instructions.
Setting the pot back on the burner, he folded his arms over his chest and asked, “Who is it?”
“It’s no one.” Brett scowled. There was no getting out of this one. Mark wasn’t dumb. Not dumb enough to think Brett would ever take a flower arranging class for the sheer hell of it. “It was just… research.”
Mark lifted an eyebrow. “Research?”
“For the fundraiser. I was thinking of asking Ivy to auction off a series of classes. I wanted to see what they were like.” He considered the idea. He’d bring it up next time he saw her.
