A stunted silence crops up at our end of the table.
“We should never get used to that bull.” I lean in. “Come here.” I touch my finger under her chin and pull her toward me until our lips find one another. There’s not a whole lot our kisses can’t cure.
The girls break out in a round of oohs and awws and one audible eww.
Crap.
Izzy gets up and excuses herself for a minute.
Izzy is right.
People can be dumbasses.
Love Like This
Izzy
Dear Dad,
Sometimes I wish I had tougher skin. You would think between you taking off and a mother who says it like it is, I’d have my heart wrapped in barbed wire but I don’t. I’m open and exposed, all flesh, no bone. Words cut me deeper than knives, and I’m perfectly capable of bleeding out from the wounds.
Soft shelled in Hollow Brook,
~Iz
Cougar.
I make an excuse about the inability to control my bladder at my age and head to the bathroom, locking myself in the furthest stall possible—ironically the same stall Holt and I claimed for ourselves a few weeks back.
Who knew girls could act so ridiculous? Me, that’s who. I should know—half the teenagers at the dance studio create enough drama to power a nuclear reactor.
The door to the restroom opens, and two sets of heels click their way in.
“Why would she just take off like that?” A familiar voice vents in frustration.
It’s Laney.
I suck in a quick breath.
Great. Now I’ve ruined her party. My finger closes over the latch, and just as I’m about to open it, I hear her give an exasperated sigh.
“I mean, what did she think was going to happen?”
My heart sinks. This is Laney—my baby sister who I fought all those years to protect. Couldn’t she do the same for me for all of five minutes?
“It’s not that big a deal.” I recognize Baya’s voice. “She’s a big girl, and he’s a big boy. They both know it’s going to be tough at times. It’s a cruel world. You and I know that.”
Tough at times?
“Tell me about it. After all that B.S. that my mother and Ryder’s mom put us through—I know exactly how cruel it can be. And that was just from family. It’s never easy. But, you know, this is different.”
I try to even my breathing in an effort to hear them better.
“How so?” Baya asks the question for me. I’m starting to like her better by the minute. And why is Laney so narrow-minded all of a sudden?
“Izzy is—” she gives an exasperated sigh—“I don’t know. She’s just always been a little different.”
What? I’m not different. Am I different?
“Well, not always”—Laney continues—“but for a while now.” My stomach bites with heat because suddenly I know where this is going. “It’s like the entire world has her paranoid. It’s as if she’s afraid to admit she’s got some deep-seated psychological issues. She’s been skittish around guys for as long as I can remember, so it doesn’t surprise me she’s not in a normal relationship.”
Just wow.
I bust through the stall, and both Laney and Baya look as if they’ve seen a ghost.
“Excuse me.” I huff an incredulous laugh. “But I’d hate to hide out in a bathroom stall and exhibit any more of my deep-seated psychosis.”
“Izzy, I’m so sorry!” Laney steps into me, and tries to take hold of my arm, but I move out of the way. “Look, I didn’t mean any of that.”
“Yes, you did. You meant every word.”
“For the record”—Baya raises her hands in the air as if this were a stick up—“I swear to you, I think what you and Holt have is totally fine. In fact, my mom will be in town in a few days, and I really think you should talk to her. She loved my father. She would be your biggest cheerleader.”
“Yeah, well, too bad my sister won’t be making the team.” I speed toward the exit just as that sassy pigtail-wearing witch from the table makes her way in, and I jam my shoulder into hers on the way out. I may or may not have meant to do that. I can’t decide if it was a happy accident or if I finally grew some balls.
“Watch it!” Her friend barks in my direction.
“Never mind,” Pigtails shouts. “She can’t see well. She’s old.”
I can still hear their cackles as I dive into the crowd and try to lose myself in the congestion of bodies. The music is so loud my head pounds with its annoying hammer-like backbeat.
“Izzy.” Laney pulls me in by the arm. “I swear to you, I’m sorry.” Her features crumble as if she’s about to cry. “I didn’t mean any of it. It just bubbled out of me like verbal diarrhea. Please, can we just forget this ever happened?”
“No, because it did happen. And stop saying you didn’t mean it.” I bite the air with my words. “You were right. I am a freak. And you want to know why? Because I’ve been too busy protecting you! I wanted you to grow up without any of the bull crap I had to deal with. I wanted you to have a healthy, happy life. You’re the reason I’ve stayed in that crappy house all along. I didn’t go to college, Laney, because I stayed home to watch out for you. So next time, instead of telling the world what a nutcase I am, how about just saying thank you!” I bolt deeper into the bar.
Okay, so I may have left my mother from the equation temporarily as to why I’ve hung out at home for so long, but for the most part every word is true.
I thread through a thicket of bodies. I just want to find Holt and get the hell out of here. I want to head to his place and not come out for weeks.
An odd sight snags my eye. I spot Holt facing the other way while a tiny little hand slithers up and down his back.
What the…?
A bleached barfly hacks out a laugh while her hands continue to ride up and down his body.
Crap.
He gingerly plucks her off, but it’s too late, I’m too far gone. My sanity has already plunged off a cliff. I’m swan diving into the rocks below, and there’s no parachute, no one around to stop me from what I’m about to do next.
“Izzy.” He steps back, his face darkening as if he were embarrassed.
“No—I get it.” I close my eyes for a moment. “You’re attractive, and look at her—she’s beautiful.” I swallow hard while examining the bimbo who was molesting the hell out of my boyfriend a moment ago. Boyfriend. What a joke. “Laney was right. We’re not normal.” The girl backs away, and Laney and Baya take her place. I glance to Holt and his stunned expression. “There are tons of girls your age and younger who would die for a chance with you.”
His features flex with a cloud of grief.
“Iz, I swear, she just sprung out from nowhere. I plucked her off as soon as I could.” Holt wraps his arms around me, but I’m quick to push him away.
“Look”—I nod over at Jemma’s sister, Marley—“there’s someone who’d be perfect for you. She’s nice, and I know she likes you.”
“I’m not into her. I’m into you.” Holt doesn’t take his eyes off me. “What the hell happened?” He turns to Laney. “What the hell did you say to her?”
Ryder and Bryson show up, ready for a fight.
“I have to get out of here.” I slip out of Holt’s grasp.
My phone goes off, and I fish it from my pocket. It’s a group text from Mom to my sister and me.
FYI, your father just walked through the door.
“Oh my, God,” I whisper, leaning against the wall to keep from passing out.
Laney and I head for the exit. She rides home with me, but we don’t say a word.
Somehow we’ve both fallen through the rabbit hole tonight.
Things were getting pretty wild back there, and, now—dear God, my father is back.
But something tells me it won’t be such a happy ending. Today has already been hit by a crap storm. After all, I’ve just lost the only other man that has ever meant anything to me.
I just
lost Holt.
Laney and I hit the driveway and storm into the house. There’s no car out front. No news crews or crowd amassing at the door to document our miracle.
“Mom?” I shout, tearing through the empty living room and into the kitchen.
“Come here, girls.” Mom stands with her face slicked with tears.
A tall, muscular man, older with a graying goatee stands alongside her. I recognize those navy eyes, that stern, lantern-jawed face.
“Daddy.” I rush over and collapse my arms around his thick, solid waist. Here it is. I’ve finally lost my sanity and willed my father into being. Tears brim to the surface as I drown in a sea of unfathomable emotion.
Holt and Ryder burst into the room.
“Izzy?” Holt comes at me as if I might be in danger.
“I’m okay.” I wipe down my face with the back of my hand. “This is my dad.” I look up at him, this phantom, this ghost I’ve pulled from deep in my memory. “Since the minute he left, I never stopped believing he’d be back one day.” I run my hands over his shirt just to feel how real he is—how believable my fantasy had become. He’s older—with far more silver in his hair than the jet-black I remember. He looks hardened. His eyes say they’ve experienced two lifetimes worth of grief.
“Where were you? And why did it take so long for you to man up and come back?” I can hardly believe the words as they spill from my lips.
“Prison.” He doesn’t hesitate with the answer.
Ryder wraps his arms around Laney, and suddenly I want to do the same. It’s always been Laney I’ve wanted to protect against the madmen my mother brought into the house. And now I wonder if the most deranged of them all was my father.
“Your dad never left us.” Mom buries her face in her hands for a moment. “They took him away.” She looks to my sister, her lips quivering out of control. I’ve never seen my mother so distraught, so fragile. “Sweetie, we didn’t think he was coming back. Once they threw the book at him, we thought it best to just move on.”
“What happened?” I’m not so sure I want to know, but we’ve come this far.
“Killed a man in a bar fight.” He gives a weak smile that dissipates as quick as it came. “He was going after your mother, and I lost my cool. I cold-clocked him. He fell to the ground and never woke up.”
Oh God. I shoot Mom a look. “Find a man who’ll kill for you, and that’s your pot of gold, huh?” I think I’ve demystified her macabre riddle. It takes all of my effort to restrain my anger for being lied to all these years. “It sounds to me like you omitted a few important details.”
“I was never out to trick you.” Mom wags her head with attitude. “I said he left, and he did. Your father and I decided it was best you not know. We didn’t want you thinking he was a coldblooded killer because he’s not. What happened was an accident. And, at the house, we never talked about it in depth. You never probed, Izzy—you never asked questions.”
“That’s because I didn’t know what I needed to ask!” My voice reverberates over the small room. “Did you ever ask why the hell I was so afraid of every damn man you dragged into the house?”
She inches her head back as if she had just been slapped.
“That’s right. Remember Chuck? I believe your cute little pet name for him was Chuck the F-bomb? Well, guess what? He was trying to screw more than just you.”
“Crap!” My father thunders as he slaps his hand down onto the table, and now he looks as if he wants to kill my mother, too.
My body goes numb. My stomach turns into lava, and vomiting doesn’t sound like such a bad idea.
Here my father is back, and, instead of appreciating the moment, instead of accepting it for what it was, I threw every form of misery I had ever encountered into my parent’s faces.
“I’m sorry.” I bolt out of the house, and Holt appears beside me on the porch.
“Come here.” He wraps his arms around me, and I lose it. I bury my face in his warm, familiar chest and sob for what feels like weeks. It’s safe like this with him. Holt is the only real and tangible thing in my life right now.
“I’m sorry.” His voice cracks as he takes in a quick breath. “I’m so sorry about what happened to you.” He presses his lips over my ear, panting into me with his grief. “Just say the word, and we can be anywhere.”
“Little Bit?” My father’s voice resonates from the living room as he makes his way over, and I melt straight down to my soul. “I’ve waited twenty long years to see your pretty face again.” He chokes on his words. “I understand if you don’t want to see me.” He steps outside, wiping down his cheeks. “But I’d sure appreciate it if you’d stay a minute longer.”
Here he is, alive and in the flesh. He’s real, not some figment of my imagination. This is happening. It’s no dream.
Holt and I head back into the house together. We sit for hours listening to my mother and father tell stories about the past, filling Laney in on a world she never knew.
My father thought they had locked him up and threw away the key. He and my mother were simply trying to protect us.
I take in the beautiful man by my side, and the beautiful man in front of me. I have two wonderful men in my life—Holt and my father, the only two men that I’ve ever really needed in order to breathe.
And here I am wondering if I should let either of them back into my world.
Holt
The night before the wedding, Cole and I take Ryder and Bryson out for their last meal as free men.
The Carving Board is a ritzy steakhouse that sells cow carcass for the price of gold per ounce.
“Where the hell do they get their cattle? Middle earth?” Cole nearly passes out as he scans the prices.
“Take it easy,” Ryder says it calm while perusing the menu. “Tonight, it’s my treat.”
“No, it’s mine,” I offer. “You two are the ones putting your balls in a noose. It’s the least I can do.”
“Balls in a noose?” Bryson shakes his head. “Say one more boneheaded thing around Izzy, and you’ll be begging her to noose your balls as she’s walking out the door.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means she’s sensitive, in the event you haven’t noticed. And I’d like to see you make things work, so put a muzzle on it.”
“Got it.” For once it seems he’s right. “We’ve spent the last few days and nights together, and she still hasn’t opened up to me about what happened.” I guess I got the rough and dirty side of it. I thought she might want to have a private conversation about it. I don’t need a lot of details. I just thought we should at least try to process it together.
Ryder tips his beer in my direction. “Laney said his name was Chuck Dupree. Said he was a crazy jackass who drank the day away while their mother slaved at the studio.”
Chuck Dupree. I tuck the name away for later.
“So tomorrow is the big day, huh?” I change the subject. I’m in no mood to share my thoughts on what I’d like to do to Chuck the F-bomb. Things are going to get screwed all right. He singlehandedly destroyed the woman I love, and I plan on returning the favor—after the wedding of course. No use in screwing up the wedding day photo-shoot with a black eye in the event Chucky plans on fighting back.
“Big day is right.” Cole slaps Bryson over the shoulder. “We’ve come a long way from the scoreboard era.”
“Damn straight.” Bryson knocks back half his beer.
Bryson and Cole once had an infamous monument to the chicks they bagged, etching them on the wall by way of tally marks. But Baya and Roxy cured them of that. Laney cured Ryder of walking around like he was a big shot, even though he sort of was one. And Izzy, well, I do believe she cured me of not believing in fairytales. I think I might deserve someone—might even deserve a happily ever after with Snow White herself.
Bryson knocks me in the shoulder. “What’s the goofy grin for?”
“I think I’m finally settling into the idea of being with som
eone. I feel empty without Izzy, and the thought of doing this life thing without her makes me sick to my stomach. She’s the one—and I’m damn glad about it.”
Bryson lifts his beer, and everyone at the table does the same.
“To finding the one. By some miracle we all seemed to find her.”
“To the one.” We toast and spend the rest of the night laughing our asses off at the stupid idiots we used to be.
The girls made us better people.
Something tells me they always will.
Saturday, the sun is bright, the weather a toasty seventy-nine degrees as we stand in the perfectly manicured yard of Ryder’s parent’s estate. Miles of white lawn chairs are laid out in rows, and every single one is filled to capacity. I’d bet the Black Bear that all of Whitney Briggs showed up for the big event.
The gazebo is decked out with enough white roses to outfit every prom in a sixty-mile radius. It looks beautiful, elegant, and I’ll be damned if it doesn’t bring a tear to my eye. I take in a hard sniff, trying to avoid the boo-hoo fest welling up in my chest.
Bryson and Ryder stand at the base of the gazebo, with me next to my brother.
My father and mother sit side by side down front, and my heart breaks for them but not in the traditional way it usually does when I see them together. This time there’s a genuine grief that has very little to do with what happened that day back in high school. A thought comes to me, and I hold my breath a moment. This is a day of new beginnings, of fresh starts. For a second I toy with the idea of letting everyone in on my dirty secret—but then the memory of Mom’s face, the horrible cry that escaped her throat that day comes back to me. Who the hell was I to rip open old wounds? To pour battery acid in them for the hell of it just to try and make myself feel better. Nope not going there. My stomach twists in knots.
Summer Breeze Kisses Page 17
