Hometown Troublemaker

by Brighton Walsh

She ran her thumb up and down the screen of her phone, debating with herself if she should reach out to him. She wanted to. Desperately. The only problem was she had no idea what she’d say.

  You were right.

  I’m sorry.

  I’m a mess.

  Please forgive me.

  Please…please wait for me.

  Instead, she pulled up a group text between her, Will, and Mac. They’d stayed with her the night of Gran’s party, after they’d taken her home from The Willow Tree. All three of them had piled into Rory’s bed as they’d laughed and talked and stayed up until all hours of the morning watching Fixer Upper.

  Nothing had been solved—she hadn’t had a sudden epiphany on how to make things work between her and Nash, but she’d felt…peaceful. Surrounded by her sisters, she’d felt peace.

  Here, alone, swaying on the porch swing Nash made for her while her daughters spent the night with their new, expanded family, she didn’t feel an ounce of it, and she needed to. Just a bit.

  What are y’all up to?

  She stared at her phone, hoping at least one of them would text her right back. After several minutes with no response, she blew out a deep breath, set the device next to her on the cushion, and took a long drink of her wine. She closed her eyes, dropped her head back on her shoulders, and forced out everything but the sounds of her home. Grasshoppers and whippoorwills and mourning doves and…a motor?

  Rory lifted her head and glanced toward the noise, squinting in the waning light. The sound got louder until a small white golf cart whipped around and skidded to a halt in her driveway, a plume of dust billowing behind it.

  Will tumbled out, gripping the side of the cart and looking like she was about three seconds away from vomiting all over the driveway. “Were we in some kind of timed race I wasn’t aware of? Holy shit, Mac.”

  Mac stepped out and rounded the front of the cart, carrying a six-pack of beer. “I got your ass here safe and sound, didn’t I?”

  “Barely,” Will mumbled as she climbed the front porch steps.

  “I didn’t realize I was cartin’ around such a delicate petal. I’ll get you a helmet for your next ride.”

  Rory glanced from her sisters to the golf cart currently parked behind her very used Honda, her eyebrows raised. “Since when do you have a golf cart?”

  “Since Gary bet me he knew more baseball stats than me,” Mac said.

  Rory’s mouth dropped open. “And you held him to it?”

  “Of course. It’s not my job to babysit every dumb-ass man in this town. That’s what they’ve got mommas for. ’Sides, I wasn’t gonna pass it up. It only takes three minutes to get from my house to yours this way. The girls are gonna love it.” Mac set down her six-pack, cracked one open, and settled on the swing next to Rory.

  Without a word, Will slipped into the house and came out a minute later with her own wineglass and the bottle Rory’d opened earlier. She topped off Rory’s and poured herself a good-sized amount before settling on Rory’s other side.

  “Y’all didn’t have to come over, you know.” Rory tugged at the hem of her long-sleeved shirt, feeling uncomfortable and relieved at the same time. “If you had plans.”

  Mac snorted. “Yeah, I was gonna have a riveting time tonight fallin’ asleep in front of the TV. Again.”

  “Shouldn’t you be out livin’ it up? Findin’ a nice boy to have some fun with? You’re not even thirty.”

  “I keep tellin’ her that,” Will said. “But she doesn’t even wanna look. Hasn’t had more than a passing interest since—”

  “Will,” Mac warned in a low voice.

  Rory split a look between the two of them, her brow furrowed. “Since…what?”

  In the past year, Rory’d come to realize just how much of her sisters’ lives she’d missed out on. She’d gone away to college and had been in her own world, completely unconcerned about what was going on at home. She couldn’t get that time back, but she soaked up every tidbit of history she could get.

  Will lifted her brows, and Mac simply glared at her in response.

  “I’m not sure what’s goin’ on, and I understand if it’s something you don’t want me to know, but—” Rory swallowed, her throat suddenly thick. It’d been like this on and off for days. Since Nash had stepped off her porch and walked away. She’d be fine. Totally and completely fine, going about her day as if nothing had changed. And then all of a sudden, the realization of what she’d lost came crashing down on her, and it was hard to even suck in a breath. “But I could use the distraction.”

  She didn’t need to look up to know her sisters were having a silent conversation around her.

  Finally, Mac sighed and slumped back against the swing. “Fine.”

  Rory turned toward her. “You’ll tell me?”

  “A very brief and incredibly condensed version of the worst time of my life? Sure, why not.” Mac patted Rory’s knee. “And then you’re gonna tell us what’s been goin’ on.”

  So, yeah… She’d, um…she’d kind of neglected to tell her sisters anything. At all. Like the fact that she’d been in a relationship with Nash for months, or that she was pretty sure she was in love with him, or that he’d left—not because of the myriad of issues trying to tear them apart, but because she couldn’t get her shit together enough to keep him.

  The night her sisters had come home with her, they’d let her just be. They hadn’t pushed and she hadn’t offered up anything, and it’d been a wonderful respite while everything inside her had been a jumbled mess.

  Everything was still a jumbled mess, but maybe that was part of why she’d texted her sisters in the first place. Maybe their insight would help her work through everything she needed to. Or at least point her in the right direction.

  “Deal?” Mac asked, her eyebrows raised.

  “Deal.”

  Mac sighed and rested back against the cushion. “The week before I left for college, Hudson and I had a…thing.”

  Rory blinked, then slowly twisted to face Mac. “Hudson. Miller. As in your best friend since elementary school? That Hudson?”

  “The very one.”

  “Define ‘a thing.’”

  Mac shrugged and took a pull of her beer. “We slept together. He basically told me he loved me, and I told him the same. Then I left for the college we were supposed to attend together, and he…didn’t.” She said the words like she’d rehearsed them. Like they didn’t mean anything—like they’d happened to someone else.

  “And…”

  “And…that’s it.”

  “What do you mean, that’s it? Is that why y’all lost touch? Have you talked to him since? What’s he doin’ now?”

  “Uh-uh,” Mac said, shaking her head. “I held up my end of the deal. It’s your turn.”

  Rory huffed. “That’s hardly fair.”

  “Consider it payback for you not tellin’ us a damn thing about what’s goin’ on.” Mac lifted her chin toward Rory’s wineglass. “Drink up if you need to. Your time for secrets is officially over.”

  Rory drained the rest of her liquid sanity and closed her eyes, sure it’d be easier to say if she didn’t have to look at them. If she couldn’t see their reactions. On an exhale, she said, “I’ve been sleepin’ with Nash since July.”

  When nothing but silence greeted her, Rory cracked one eye open, then the other, and glanced between her sisters. Will stared at her with an open mouth, and Mac smirked.

  Mac reached around and held out her hand to Will. “Pay up.”

  “Dammit.” Will leaned back and pulled a twenty from her jeans pocket before slapping it in Mac’s palm. “Next time, tip me off or something, Rory, will you?”

  “What the hell?” Rory split a look between them. “Y’all bet on my misery?”

  Mac snorted as she pocketed the cash. “It was real miserable fucking him, was it?”

  “That part? Not in the slightest.” Nothing at all had been miserable about that. It’d been enlightening and nothing shor
t of life-changing for her. And it hadn’t been only the sex that’d done that. Rory took a shaky breath and pressed her hand to her chest. How could it feel tight and hollow at the same time? “It’s the aftermath that hurts so bad.”

  She hadn’t cried. Not once since Nash had walked away had she let the tears fall. But as her sisters wrapped their arms around her, she couldn’t stop the tears now. She let them flow down her face as she told Mac and Will everything. From that night last year at The Willow Tree when Nash had sat by her after she’d found Sean cheating, until the night he’d stood right here on her porch before walking away.

  On a quiet, shaky whisper, she admitted something aloud for the first time in her life. “I don’t know what to do.”

  “What do you want to do?” Will brushed a hand up and down Rory’s back.

  Rory shook her head. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says life. Things don’t just happen ’cause I want them to.”

  Mac raised a brow. “I legitimately thought that’s how things worked for you until I was about fifteen.”

  Rory breathed out a watery laugh. “I don’t think that’s gonna happen here.”

  “Okay,” Will said, “if there weren’t any obstacles standing in your way, what would you want?”

  The answer came to her without thought. She’d want Nash in her life. She’d want him there to watch scary shows with and then join her in bed, where he’d wrap her in his arms and keep her safe. She wanted him there to teach Ella how to build furniture and repair sinks and encourage her curiosity instead of stifling it. She wanted his tips on how she could find a knock-off of the dream bed Ava wanted that would fit in her budget. She wanted his arguments and his challenges and his smiles and his dirty, dirty words. She wanted to never ask him for help, but to know he’d be there anyway, reminding her she didn’t need him because she could do it herself.

  She wanted him. By her side. For always.

  “Him,” she said simply. “I’d want him.”

  “Then what’s the problem?” Mac asked. “He’s into you, Rory. I think that’s pretty damn clear.”

  “That’s not what the issue is.”

  “Then what is?” Mac held up her hand in question. “Because from where I’m sittin’, it’s a case of you lettin’ everyone else in Havenbrook decide if you get to be happy or not. I figured you’d gotten enough of that between Daddy and your ex-husband, but maybe I’m wrong.”

  “Mac,” Will said, a warning in her voice. “Don’t push.”

  “Fuck that.” Mac shook her head. “I’m pushin’. Because if the tables were turned, she’d push us.” Mac slipped one leg under herself and twisted to face Rory. “I’m not tellin’ you what to do or how to do it. I’m just tellin’ you maybe you should stop lettin’ other people dictate your life and go for what you want. How many times have you given up something because of someone else?”

  Ballet. Her major in college. A career. Interior Design. Nash. Plus a million other small decisions that hadn’t even registered because it’d become so ingrained. For more than thirty years, she’d done exactly what everyone else expected of her because she’d thought that was what she had to do.

  “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Mac said. “If he’s what you want, I say fuck everyone else. Fuck the people who say you’re too. Too old, too much, too demanding, too whatever.” She waved a hand in the air. “It’s all bullshit. You’re exactly the right amount. And Nash was the first man in your life to actually appreciate every ounce of that.”

  Nash had been not just the first but the only man who’d shown her, time and again, that she was perfect just the way she was. Ironic that it’d happen after she’d vowed to let go of that unrealistic expectation of perfection.

  But knowing he thought that wasn’t enough. She was still wrestling with shit she didn’t even understand, and she needed to work through it before she opened her life and her heart to someone else. She could only hope Nash was telling the truth when he’d said he’d be there when she figured everything out.

  Life went on.

  And on.

  And on.

  It’d been too damn long since Nash had walked away from Rory, and he had to fight himself every day not to slide right back into their old habits. Not to run his finger down her arm at a client’s house, brush the hair out of her face, back her into the wall and kiss her senseless. And he’d forced himself to turn around more than once as he’d headed to town hall just to see her smile.

  But he couldn’t allow himself any of it. He’d decided at an early age he wasn’t chasing anyone who didn’t want him. He’d learned that lesson when his momma’d walked straight out of his life and hadn’t looked back. And he’d learned it again in the years living with his old man. Things like that had a way of sticking to a man.

  He ran the sander along the posts of the headboard he’d made, smoothing out the rough wood. He’d secretly been crafting it since he’d seen the picture Ava had circled in Rory’s magazine. He had no idea why he was still working on it. Had no idea if he’d give it to them when he was done, and if he did, if she’d even let him into her house to do so.

  None of it mattered much, though, because working on this made him feel closer to her, so he was going to keep right on doing it. Which was sad and little pathetic, but it was what it was. When he couldn’t sleep or quiet his mind—which had been all too frequent of late—this was where he went.

  The front door to the warehouse opened, and he glanced up to see his old man strolling toward him. Nash clenched his jaw, his thoughts immediately snapping back to what Rory had told him. How his dad had hit on her. And, in doing so, had started the domino effect that caused Rory to push him away.

  He hadn’t spoken to his dad since. Hadn’t wanted to. He’d been too worried he’d say something he’d later come to regret.

  “Hey, kid. Workin’ on something new?” His dad smoothed his hand over the footboard propped against the wall. “Figured you for something a little more masculine, but whatever floats your boat.”

  The whir of the sander and the cadence of the music coming from Nash’s phone were the only things filling the space between them.

  When Nash didn’t respond, his dad said, “Wanted to let you know Bozeman’s been puttin’ on the pressure. A deal’s on the horizon.”

  Perfect. Just the news he wanted to hear. He’d figured it’d been a lost cause to continue busting his ass in the hopes of buying out his dad since learning the vague details from Bozeman. But he’d still tried. Now, it seemed he didn’t need to.

  “Not in a talkative mood?” his dad asked.

  Nash shut off the sander and set it on the workbench before pulling off his safety glasses and tossing them aside. “What do you want me to say?”

  “Dunno, just thought—”

  “You want me to tell you what a bad fucking idea this is? How it’s selfish and short-sighted and not what Granddad had intended? Or maybe we should shove all that aside and just talk about you.” He crossed his arms, his anger too volatile to continue repressing. He’d been doing it for twenty years, and he couldn’t hold it in anymore.

  “Me?”

  “Yeah, you. Let’s talk about how you can’t go a single day in this goddamn town without tryin’ to get your dick wet.”

  His dad laughed, like they were buddies sharing a joke. Just two pals talking about how much pussy they were going to score for the weekend instead of a father and son.

  “Oh, yeah, it’s real fucking funny, isn’t it? You have any idea what that’s like for someone who shares your name? Your looks? Your everything? Who’s comin’ in behind you, tryin’ to atone for your sins? You have any idea how hard I had to bust my ass to gain a solid reputation for this business after you nearly ran it into the ground? Bet you never thought about any of it, did you?”

  The smile dropped off his dad’s face, and he ran a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. “Look, kid…so I like to have a good time,
so what? I always wrap it up, and the women know the score goin’ in.” He shrugged. “It’s never been an issue for you before.”

  “How the hell would you know? You’ve never asked.”

  “And you’ve never spoken up, so what changed?”

  Nash fisted his hands at his sides so he wouldn’t be tempted to start throwing the thousands of dollars’ worth of tools surrounding him. “What changed was you tried to sleep with my girlfriend.”

  His dad’s eyebrows shot up, and he rocked back on his heels. “Your girlfriend? I didn’t even know you were seein’ someone. Who?”

  Nash didn’t know whether to be incredulous or downright pissed. Apparently, his dad had hit on so many women in the past two weeks that he couldn’t even remember whom he’d done it to. “Rory. Just had to snag that fresh meat, right?”

  “Rory Haven? Shit, I had no idea you were together.”

  “Yeah, well, we’re not anymore, no thanks to you.”

  His dad held up his hands and shook his head. “All I did was tell her I’d be happy to help with anything around the house.”

  “Nice cover, Pops, but you and I both know that was a bullshit excuse to get in her bed. She knows it too.”

  He shrugged, not bothering to deny it. “She’s… Well, she’s…”

  “You better watch whatever you say right now.”

  His dad closed his mouth and studied Nash for a few tense, silent moments. Finally, he asked, “Aren’t you a little young for her?”

  “Aren’t I a little young for her?” He blew out an incredulous laugh. “Aren’t you? I’ve done more livin’, more growin’ in twenty-five years than you’ve done in double that because I had to. Because I had a mom who left me and a dad who checked out after that. I had no choice but to grow the fuck up. So, no, I don’t think I’m a little young for her.”

  “Okay, all right. I’m—”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but Rory and I were good together. Really fucking good. And now you’ve fucked up everything between us.”

  “I’m—I—”

  “And in doing so, you’ve screwed me over with the only chance I had of buyin’ King Construction and keepin’ it in the family before the fucking Bozemans get their hands on it. But when the hell have you ever given a damn about family, right? When have you ever given a damn about anything but yourself and your next piece of ass?”