Kyra pressed her lips together, turning her attention back to the wardrobe in front of her. “Well, knowing Cam and Lydia, I doubt this will be a black tie affair.” Thumbing through some hangers, she paused, grabbing a strapless buttery yellow eyelet lace dress. “What about this? It’s summery, casual…”
“Too casual for an engagement party, isn’t it?”
“I don’t think so.” Kyra held it at arm’s length, studying it. “Just try it on. It’s cotton, so it’ll be comfortable, like your T-shirts. It’s fitted and strapless, so it’ll be sexy for Steve. And it’s lace, so it’ll have a bit of sweetness and innocence that you won’t look like you’re gunning to steal attention from the bride.”
Yvonne peeled the black dress off of her and slid into the one Kyra picked out. She didn’t wear strapless dresses all that often—though she was small and lean, she was still really curvy… hence the reason she wore sports bras all the time. Something needed to strap the girls in. But as she looked down at her cleavage spilling out of the strapless dress, she sent Kyra a doubtful look, gesturing to her breasts. “Come on. I look ridiculous.”
“No… you look hot.”
“I need a cardigan or something—”
“If you put a cardigan over that cleavage tonight, I swear to God, I will shred it off of you.”
“What if it’s cold?”
“Fine! You can bring a cardigan, but when we get there, I’m taking it from you. You can have it back at the end of the night. You and Steve will both thank me.”
Yvonne couldn’t help her smile. She was lucky to have such a good friend in her life. When Ronnie walked away from her after the accident, Kyra managed to maintain both friendships—because that’s the kind of girl she was. She didn’t give up on people, no matter how hard or awkward it was for her back. “And what about you? You have a hot date tonight?”
She snorted at that, rolling her eyes as she dropped onto Yvonne’s bed. “Yeah right. This town is void of eligible bachelors.”
“Hey!”
“Oh, come on. You expected me to ever truly consider Steve Tripp as a potential boyfriend? My best friend’s ex-boyfriend? I would deserve to be stripped of my BFF title immediately if I pulled that crap.”
“There’s always Noah…”
Kyra shivered, cringing. “Ugh, no way. He’s a baby compared to us.”
“I thought you were dating that guy—the financial dude from Nashua.”
She didn’t answer and instead just lifted her half-lidded gaze to Yvonne. “It fizzled. As they usually do.”
She hated watching her friend go through this every time. She’d watched as Kyra fell into an infatuation with Cam for over a decade. And watched as he overlooked her all through high school and after Hannah passed away. Yvonne listened quietly to every date and every crush… and she was happy to do so. But she just wanted her friend to find someone who would know what an amazing woman was in front of them. Where the hell was she meeting all these idiots? Were they blind or just dumb? How could they not see how incredible she is? Not a diamond in the rough… no, Kyra was an actual diamond. Ready and sparkling. “You know what? We should get manicures before tonight.”
Kyra’s eyes lit up at that and she jumped to her feet. “Yes! Oh, thank God, girl. Your nails are atrocious.”
‡
Chapter Twenty-Three
Steve and Noah rode in tense silence for the better part of their two hour trip back to Maple Grove. It wasn’t that Steve hated his brother—not by a long shot. Noah just drove Steve a little crazy sometimes.
“Uh-oh,” Noah said.
Make that more than a little. It was the first thing he’d said since their hellos at Baggage Claim.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Steve muttered.
“Fuck. I think I left my cell on the plane.”
“It’s quarter past seven now, and we’re still twenty miles away. I’m not turning around—”
“I wasn’t asking you to turn around. I just have this stupid Skype audition tomorrow and my agent’s gonna kill me.”
Steve sighed, taking the wheel with one hand and pulling his phone out of his pocket. He held it out to his brother. “Here. Call your phone. Maybe someone at the airport will answer and we can find a way to get it back before your audition.”
Noah eyed the phone for a half second before grabbing it and dialing his number. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
“Oh, I know you are.” Noah was always sorry. He constantly had something to apologize for… and the women in the Tripp family just kept forgiving. If their dad were still around, this shit wouldn’t be happening. Mike Tripp had been a strict dad. Loving, but tough. And not afraid to dole out groundings and punishments when his kids messed up. Something Noah never really experienced with him. A lesson on responsibility he would never learn and from a man he would never know.
No, Steve didn’t get so angry with Noah because they were so different. He got angry because they were so much alike. Without his accident, Steve would have been going down that same path as Noah. He would have gotten the hell out of Maple Grove for good, probably moving to a big city, too. He would have been partying and drinking and bulldozing his way through life and relationships. His gaze flicked quickly to the rearview mirror, catching a glimpse of his scar. He hoped Noah didn’t have to learn the hard way, too. If their dad had been around, he would have knocked some sense into both of them long ago. If Dad had been around, maybe I never would have gotten in the wreck with Yvonne.
Guilt tightened in Steve’s throat and almost as though it was out of his control, his grip on the wheel tightened. Little beads of sweat broke out along the edge of his hairline and the car felt way too goddamn hot all of a sudden. The tie which he had carefully knotted now felt restrictive—like it was a boa constrictor going in for its final kill. Steve clawed at his neck, tearing the tie off and tossing it in the back seat.
Hot prickles like a thousand needles pierced is skin and he swerved for a second before catching himself and straightening out in the road.
“Steve—Steve!” Noah shouted from the passenger seat, but he sounded miles away. “Are you okay?”
No. No, he fucking wasn’t. A blue road sign caught his attention—Rest Area—and he yanked the wheel into the far right lane and pulled off into the parking lot. He unbuckled and stumbled out of his seat, barely making it to a grassy area. Bracing his hands on his knees, he hurled up his lunch, his stomach muscles contracting, until there was nothing but bile.
Two hands squeezed his shoulders. “You’re okay, man,” Noah said quietly.
Steve focused on his breathing. In slowly, to the count of four. Out just as slowly. The twins were young when he had his accident, but they weren’t that young. They remembered. They were old enough to understand they had almost lost their older brother in addition to their dad. And when they moved Steve’s recovery home from the hospital, Noah and Callie used to help. Or tried to. They’d make him peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and sneak him Dr. Pepper when he should have been drinking water.
“Thank you,” he said and his voice sounded like he’d swallowed a scrub brush. “I think I’m better now.”
“Let’s sit a minute.” Noah guided him over to a picnic table. “I can’t be on time for this party, anyway. It might give Mom a heart attack if I show up where I’m supposed to be when I’m supposed to be there.”
Steve gave a hoarse chuckle. “That ship already sailed, asshole. You were supposed to be home last night.”
They each sat. The sky had turned into a smeary mix of orange and blue where the day was closing into night. Crickets serenaded them from the tall grass and Steve closed his eyes, feeling the heat fading into a glorious coolness over his forehead. The summer breeze washed across his face eradicating the sweat that had built so quickly across his skin. “You got your anxiety medicine here with you?” Noah asked.
Steve shook his head. “Haven’t taken prescription medication for this shit in a year.”
/>
“Then what’s changed?”
Yvonne. Only Steve didn’t say that. Couldn’t say that—he couldn’t admit that she was potentially the reason for all this resurfacing. So, instead he said nothing.
“That was a pretty intense episode.” Noah said when Steve didn’t answer.
“I know.”
“You could have run off the road—”
“I said I know,” he snapped and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you… I’m mad at me.”
Noah nodded, not meeting his eyes, suddenly fascinated by his cuticles. “Sometimes it seems like you’re mad at me.”
His brother’s voice was so small, and when Steve glanced to his left, he didn’t see the twenty-three year old famous celebrity starring in some stupid vampire show. He saw the insecure little boy who used to sneak into Steve’s bedroom when he couldn’t sleep to play Nintendo. Steve swayed to the left, gently bumping Noah with his elbow. “Well sometimes I am mad at you. Sometimes you deserve it, shithead.” That got a small chuckle. “And sometimes you don’t deserve it. Sometimes it’s my own demons and you’re the easiest outlet for them to escape.”
Noah shrugged, his inky eyelashes nearly as long and curled as Yvonne’s. “That anger’s gotta come out somehow, I guess. I’d rather be a punching bag than see you hold all that in.”
Steve curved his arm around his brother’s shoulder, pulling him in for a hug. “But you don’t deserve that, Noah.”
“Well… sometimes I deserve it.”
A laugh bellowed out of Steve. “Yeah, sometimes you do. Like when you miss Father’s Day and then hardly ever visit.”
“Hey, I made it this year. And I came to Maddie’s art auction. That counts for something, right?”
“Yeah, it does.”
The smile that Steve had just gotten back on Noah’s face quickly disappeared like a drop of ink into a lake. “Can I tell you something?” he said, wringing his hands. But he didn’t wait for Steve to give him the go ahead. “I fucking hate Father’s Day. I hate our stupid tradition of honoring Dad’s memories. I can’t remember shit about him. I don’t have any memories that stand out to me about our father. How fucked up is that? I wasn’t that young when he died. Five is not young enough to justify no memories.”
Pressure built in Steve’s throat once more. “Our dad was an amazing father. Even if they’re dormant right now, those memories are still in you. Somewhere.”
Noah’s knee bounced nervously and though he tried to hide it, Steve saw him swipe his knuckle under his eye, brushing away a stray tear. “Yeah, well, I can’t access them.”
“You have a therapist back home?”
He snorted. “It’s New York City. Even the rats have therapists.”
Steve ignored the sarcasm. “You talk to your doctor about this?”
“A little.”
Steve stood up from the table, pulling his car keys from his pocket. “I’ll ask around—quietly—and see if I hear of any good recommendations. Sometimes therapists are like dating… you have to find the right match for your personality.”
“I trust your recommendation over my agent’s any day.” Noah nodded, standing as well as Steve tossed his keys at his little brother.
“Good,” he said. “And you’re driving—even with your suspended license, it’s safer if you get us the rest of the way there.” As Noah turned to walk away, Steve grabbed his shoulder, spinning him to face him. “And if you trash my BMW like you did that rental car they reported on TMZ? You won’t need a flight to get you back to NYC. I’ll have kicked your ass back to LaGuardia myself.”
Noah gave him a lopsided grin as he climbed into the driver’s side, starting the car. “I had nothing to do with that car that got trashed. It was my name on the rental, but my co-star took it out after I got back to my hotel.”
He started the car, pulling back onto the highway. They rode in silence for several minutes before Steve spoke again. “Could we keep my panic attack just between us for now? I don’t want to upset Ma or ruin Cam and Lydia’s night.”
Noah nodded, keeping his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel at ten and two. “On one condition,” he said. “Start seeing your therapist again. You don’t need to talk to me or Mom or Cam about it. But you need to talk to someone.”
Steve didn’t even need to think about it. He’d already made that decision himself. “Deal.”
‡
Chapter Twenty-Four
After popping by Steve’s house to let Molly out, Yvonne and Kyra entered the engagement party. It was being held at Giuseppe’s—Maple Grove’s local upscale pizzeria. It wasn’t the sort of place you went to and ordered a slice. Their gourmet pies rivaled anything you’d order in New York. The owner, Nick, was a gruff looking guy that usually spent his time either in the kitchen or behind the bar. Yvonne recognized him, knew he grew up in this town too and even went to their high school. But he was a bit older than her, and he was the kid who always wore dirty Ramones T-shirts and smoked behind the bleachers with other mohawked kids. Come to think of it, he was the exact kind of rebellious guy Yvonne would have dated just to spite her mother. Except back then, she was in love with Steve.
Kyra grunted from beside her. “Ugh, Nick Forrester.”
Yvonne was taken aback for a moment. “You know him?”
“Not really. Sometimes we do happy hours here after work.” She gave another snort, accompanied by an eye roll. “He always looks so bothered by us when we come in a large group. Like, as if he doesn’t want our money.”
From behind the bar, his gaze shot up. Only, he wasn’t looking at Yvonne, his eyes were set onto Kyra. “Maybe he’s just shy,” Yvonne said, feeling the tingles of awareness rushing down her body. His stare, even though not directed at her, made goose bumps raise against her skin.
“Maybe he’s just a dick,” Kyra snapped. With a shake of her head, her almost platinum blond hair brushed against her shoulders. “Why are we still talking about him?”
Without realizing it, Yvonne had brought a finger to her mouth, nibbling on the edge of her newly painted nail. Kyra curved her hand around Yvonne’s, her skin warm and soft, lowering her hand back to her side. “Don’t be nervous,” she whispered. “Come on,” she said, giving Yvonne’s hand a tug toward the bar. “I don’t know about you, but I’m willing to deal with Nick the dick in order to get a Limoncello.”
“Maybe we’ll get one of the other bartenders?” Nick wasn’t the only guy behind the bar, but he was the one who was hustling the most.
Yvonne swept her gaze across the room that was getting more and more crowded by the second. It was full of all the people she loved. Everyone from town… Elsa, Lila, Frank, Amanda, and Lex, just to name a few. But then why the hell did she feel like an outsider among all these friends? Having the bar to cling to was helpful, and Yvonne didn’t mind for a second that it was taking a while for Nick to come take their orders. Where the hell was Steve? Shouldn’t he have been there by now?
Kyra was rattling on beside her. “I told you that dress would be perfect. It’s not too fancy and not to casual. Steve is gonna go crazy—”
“What can I get you?” A rough voice cut through the noise of the restaurant.
“Two Limoncellos,” Kyra said, not missing a beat. She gave a quick look to Yvonne, waiting for her nod of approval.
Yvonne looked to Nick, giving him a small smile. “Please.”
He turned his attention back to Kyra as she held out her acrylic nails, inspecting the bold red color she’d chosen. “Do you think these make me look too witchy?”
Nick pressed his palms into the bar, leaning over—no, make that towering over them, and the intensity and pressure Yvonne felt emanating off of this guy was a lot to take. And it wasn’t even directed at her. “Uh, Kyra,” Yvonne said, her voice meek in comparison.
“I mean, red isn’t usually my color, ya know? I’m more of a pink girl—”
From beside them, Nick gave a guttural, inte
ntional throat clearing cough that finally stopped Kyra mid-sentence. She met his glare and raised him a scowl. “Am I supposed to pay first?”
“It’s an open bar,” he answered. “But a ‘please’ or ‘thank you’ would be nice.”
She inhaled a quick laugh that could have doubled as a hiccup. “You’re joking, right?”
“Please,” Yvonne jumped in, quickly smiling at Nick.
“You already said please,” Nick answered, his eyes not leaving Kyra. He grabbed an empty glass, pouring a bottle of yellow liquid over ice and slid it to Yvonne. His eyebrow lifted in challenge to Kyra.
“Okay,” she said, putting her palms up. “Please. And I’m sorry I didn’t say it sooner.”
He grunted something Yvonne couldn’t understand and filled another glass, handing it to Kyra. “Your mom would be so proud,” he added sarcastically.
Uh-oh. Kyra’s chin jerked up, her brown eyes flashing like fire and she darted a hand out, grabbing his sleeve before he had a chance to walk away. “My mom is dead, you asshole.” Her voice was near a whisper… and when you got to know Kyra, you knew that her normal volume was loud. Louder than loud. You really were in danger when she got quiet.
“I’m sorry,” he said. And it seemed genuine.
Yvonne placed a hand on Kyra’s wrist, coaxing her to let go of the man. “Kyra, he apologized. And he’s the keeper of the booze tonight. A night that I’m really gonna need some drinks.” Kyra’s eyes glittered as moisture covered them in a sheen. But in a blink, that moisture was gone, and she released Nick’s shirt.
“You better keep ’em coming,” she said, gesturing to their drinks, then added, “Please.”
Yvonne spun, keeping her arm tightly around Kyra and guiding her away from the bar. Away from Nick. Only, she turned and bounced from one angry face right into another. Ronnie Tripp stood behind her, her hands on her hips. She wore a deep purple wrap dress that was casual and cute. Her dark, curly hair fell around her tanned complexion, and subtle makeup complimented the rich color of the dress perfectly. All that anger—all those feelings of betrayal that she had worked so hard to let go of with Steve—slammed into her like a sledgehammer to the head with Ronnie.
Healing You Page 18
