by Jill Haven
I looked at Ewin’s retreating form, willing him to continue away when his steps slowed as if he might return to my station and check on me himself.
“Do you need the boss to come check on you, Lennox?” Jared suddenly appeared at my side. “Chef!” He raised his voice. “I think there’s something wrong with August.”
Ewin turned but seemed to take in my facial expression warning him away, and just waved dismissively. “I’m sure Jonas has it in hand, Jared, but thank you.” Then his face stiffened, and he headed toward his office out the back. Thank God. I relaxed for the first time all morning.
I gave Jared my full attention, a niggle of suspicion at his true motives taking hold inside me. “What are you doing? I’m fine. I’m outperforming you, even—as usual.” I waited a moment to watch the expression on his face sour then ignored him once more. He really didn’t deserve my time.
Chop, chop, chop.
My knife hit the chopping board rhythmically, marking time, counting the seconds until Ewin and I could be alone again. Alone and happy together, with no hiding or fleeting smiles and touches that no one else should see. My smile forced its way across my face again.
“You know—” Jared said quietly, at my shoulder.
I jumped. “Jesus, Jared. What are you, part cat?”
But he continued as if I hadn’t interrupted him. “We all might be as great as you think you are if we…” He paused and tapped his chin. “If we slept our way to the top.”
I froze, ice trickling through my body, making me instantly cold as panic splintered in my chest. “What did you just say?” My cold, hard tone matched the feeling inside me. In that moment, I flashed from happy to numb…and possibly deadly. After all, I held a knife in my hand.
I carefully put it down and faced Jared, letting him know he didn’t scare me. People could spout as much crap as they wanted, but he definitely didn’t have facts to back it up.
“You heard me.” He squared his shoulders, his lip curling.
“I don’t think I like what you’re implying.” I didn’t want to get into it with him. He didn’t get to piss all over my Ewin-sized parade.
But he didn’t have the good sense to let it go. “Then you shouldn’t be sleeping with Ewin Storm.”
Rage rushed through me. I rarely felt it, and I never displayed it, but it ballooned in my chest and burst out at top volume through my mouth. “Listen here, you piece of shit, you just can’t leave me alone, can you? Why is that, Jared?” I sneered his name. “Is it because you wish you could be me? Are you threatened by my talent, a talent you actually know you don’t have? Maybe you’re secretly worried you don’t belong here. But you know what? Instead of spending all your time coming after me, you should think about stepping up your game instead of trying to find excuses as to why you’re second rate.” I tapped my foot, then added. “And the deflection doesn’t work, you know? Everyone still sees it’s you with the problem, not me.”
When I finished, Jared’s mouth hung open, and his face had flushed a vivid crimson. His nostrils flared as he drew each breath, but he didn’t say a word. Instead, he slowly flipped me the bird as he twisted to walk away.
“Oh my God,” Jonas hissed. “Shit, dude. I thought you were gonna turn green and rip right out of your clothes.”
I shrugged. “I’ve had enough of his jibes all the time.” And it felt kind of good to slap Jared down. He definitely deserved it.
“Totally get it, man. Just never thought your balls clanked so loud, that’s all.” Jonas shook his head and checked the notes for the recipe we were practicing.
When I smiled again, I wasn’t thinking of Ewin. I was remembering the look on Jared’s face when I didn’t let him get away with his accusations. But I couldn’t let Jared get away with more of his lies and shit-spreading.
This kitchen was my happy place. I had my man and my career, and nothing would ruin that. Totally living my best life.
Phones around the room buzzed an alert.
Jonas glanced up. “What do you guys do? Synchronize your periods?”
I laughed. “No, doofus. It’s a notification from the town gossip site. See?” I held my phone out to him, but not before I flicked my gaze over the words.
Be careful not to play with fire, little babies—you might just get burned. If the heat is too hot, maybe you should just get out of the kitchen.
16
Ewin
July 16th
“You okay?” Ryker’s palm landed heavily on my shoulder.
I glanced at him. “Nervous as shit. We’ve only got a week until opening night, and it still feels like there’s so much to do.” I scanned the crowd of my staff and additional guests Ryker had wedged into his bar, mentally picking out the weakest players.
“Have some faith.” Ryker smiled. “From everything you’ve said, August could pretty much run that kitchen on his own.”
“Yeah, who needs other staff?” But my heart lifted at Ryker’s mention of August, and I glanced again to the other side of the room, where he laughed at something one of his friends had said.
I wanted to run my fingers through his hair, crush my mouth on his full lips, sink my dick into him… but I forced myself to look away instead.
“Thanks for this,” I nodded at the full bar as I addressed Ryker again.
“No problem, Ew. I quite like hosting a private party now and then. Anyway, if you turn too rowdy, I’ll get some pictures and sell them to the nearest tabloid.” With the way he lifted one eyebrow, I couldn’t tell if he was joking or not.
Then he grinned. “Anyway…speaking of August—”
“Which we weren’t anymore.” As much as I aimed for annoyed at Ryker’s nosiness, another surge of warmth at August’s name made it impossible.
“Well.” Undeterred, he continued. “If we get back to the subject of August—”
I sighed and resigned myself to the conversation. Ryker was tenacious when he wanted to be, and this looked like a subject he wasn’t about to let drop, especially as he’d done his fair share of looking out for August over the years.
“You’re not being very subtle, you know. You’ve spent most of the night watching him. Even I can tell something’s up.”
Ryker had the intuition and sensitivity of a rock, so that was unlikely.
“Really?” I murmured, not too worried.
“Oh, absolutely.” He nodded. And took a thoughtful swig from his bottle of beer. “But I thought you would have tried to keep it on the down-low a bit. You know, keep him out of the publicity spotlight, or whatever.”
Or whatever, indeed. “You mean like not make myself look like I’m robbing he cradle, not have others think he’s slept his way to the top in his career, and all that good stuff?”
Ryker nodded, his eyes serious as someone jostled against his shoulder as they danced by to a beat playing just a little too loud for casual eavesdroppers to overhear our conversation. “Yeah, stuff like that.”
I glanced at the floor, at a stained cardboard beer mat destined for the trash, and I didn’t meet Ryker’s gaze. “It’s getting harder,” I admitted.
“Oh?”
“I think I’m falling in love with him.” The words were out, and panic flittered in my chest that I no longer held control.
Ryker threw an arm over my shoulders, squeezing me to him in the closest thing I’d ever known him to get to a hug. “Thank fuck, man. I didn’t know if you were ever going to acknowledge it. I thought you might be the town’s next Harland. But I’m glad you know how you feel. I’m happy for you.”
I wrapped an arm around his waist and squeezed back. “Thanks.”
“And as if I summoned Harland by using his name—here he comes now.” Ryker gestured to the group of my staff and their guests.
I looked at the crowd again. Sure enough, our friend approached, his short brown hair gleaming under the lights. He moved his head as if searching for something, his expression an unusual one. Harland usually wore a permanent, easy
smile, but his features looked pinched as if something had worried or distressed him, and I tensed in anticipation of bad news.
Before he reached us, he glanced at the corner where August was still laughing with his friends then he came to stand beside Ryker and me.
“You look like a man who could use a drink,” Ryker greeted him.
“Can we get it to go? I need to talk you both. Your office?” He headed off before Ryker could answer.
Once inside Ryker’s tiny office, Harland dropped onto the battered couch while Ryker perched his ass against the oversized desk. I just hovered by the closed door, on edge although I didn’t know why.
Harland looked at his feet and sighed. He twisted his hands together.
“You okay, man?” Ryker asked.
“Yeah, is it Coop?” I’d never seen Harland so anxious. He even managed to seem upbeat around his unrequited love situation, usually, like he had an image to protect.
He raised his gaze and looked at me. “Has…has… Do you know if August has spoken to Dawson recently?”
I barked out a laugh, shaking my head. “Fuck, no. They aren’t on speaking terms.” I closed my mouth, then added, “Not that I blame him,” as if I somehow had to back August’s decision.
Harland bowed his head, took a deep breath and sighed, the shaky sound rattling through the office.
“Hey, what is it?” Ryker changed position, squatting near to where Harland sat so he could meet his eyes.
But Harland raised his gaze back to mine. “Dawson’s coming home.”
Shit. My mind flew to August, to the fact he was finally pulling his life together, and he didn’t need his big brother blundering back in and setting everything off balance for him again.
I opened my mouth to say so, but Harland rushed on. “He just signed up for his last service year. He’s going to be coming home.”
Well, that was shockingly detailed. I leaned against the door behind me. “Okaaaay.” I dragged out the first syllable, my mind still on August. “And how do you know?”
“Because I still talk to Dawson.” Harland’s voice was small, but something fierce blazed in his eyes.
“Shit.” Ryker ground the word out.
“Fuck me,” I muttered, leaning my head against the door and closing my eyes. When I opened them, whatever I’d seen in Harland’s eyes before had gone, replaced by the shimmering of tears.
“I’m so sorry, guys. I wanted to tell you. The guilt has been eating me up, but I didn’t want to betray Dawson’s trust.”
“Fuck that!” I exploded. “What has Dawson done to expect anyone’s trust? And if he can talk to you, why doesn’t he talk to August?” A surge of protectiveness for August rushed through me, and I clenched my fist.
The man who’d abandoned August, his own flesh and blood, still made time to communicate with Harland. I closed my eyes and focused on my breathing to calm my increasing blood pressure. I wanted to run out into the bar, grab August and take him somewhere he’d be safe. Except I couldn’t protect him from his brother’s effect on his emotions.
Harland spoke. “In the beginning, it was because Dawson needed a connection here, but he couldn’t talk to August because basic training was rough. It was really rough, and all he wanted to do was come back home to August, and if he’d spoken to him, he knew he couldn’t have stayed away.”
“But…” I had so many questions, but Ryker held up his hand.
“Let him finish. I’m interested.” Ryker’s words were quiet and strangely cold, mild in their curiosity but heavy with accusation.
I glanced at him but couldn’t read his expression, although the absence of one said everything I needed to know.
Harland swallowed. “And Dawson said he thought it would get easier to speak to August with time, but it didn’t. And he couldn’t risk the money he was earning—he was using it to fund August’s education. He wanted to talk to him, yet he’d be no good to him if he did.”
I shook my head. It was a horrible situation, no doubt, but still. My heart clattered at the thought of how hurt August would be.
As if Harland couldn’t keep any of his story inside now that he’d started to tell it, the words continued. “Dawson had a breakdown when August went through his emancipation. It got pretty bad. It was all he could do to keep the money coming. But now he doesn’t think August will ever forgive him.”
“There’s been a lot of water under the bridge,” Ryker said, neither confirming nor denying Dawson’s fears.
“You’re the master of understatement,” I murmured.
Ryker shrugged. “I don’t know what Dawson expects. August literally had to grow up without him. I mean, we’ve all pitched in, but…” He squeezed his hands over the edge of his desk, his knuckles whitening as he wrapped his fingers around. Then he looked at me. “What are you going to do?”
I glanced at Harland. He’d done his part when he unburdened himself and by proxy, unburdened Dawson, but he’d screwed me over at the same time and left me holding the fucking bag with regard to August. I sighed. Shit. Just when I thought everything was coming together, I got to play the bad guy who could blow August’s world apart with just a few sentences. As much as I wanted to protect him and shelter him from anything bad, if I didn’t tell him what I knew and he found out another way, he might never trust me again.
I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I have to tell him. I can’t keep this from him.” But, shit, I wanted to protect him from all of it.
For the first time, I didn’t feel giddy with excitement as I headed to August’s. By the time Harland, Ryker, and I emerged from Ryker’s office, the party had started to slow down, and August and his friends had left. Ryker seemed secretly glad not to have to play host for too much longer after our tense conversation, but the hard part had only just started for me.
I glanced longingly at my car in the parking lot but tallied up my beer intake. It wasn’t worth it, so I set off. The walk would give me time to think about what to say.
Except it didn’t really help.
I arrived at August’s and I still didn’t have the necessary words to reveal all Harland had said. I swallowed as I knocked on his door. August ripped it open as if he’d been standing behind it, waiting for me.
His scent enveloped me as he pulled me into a hug. “I hoped you’d come.” He smiled as he spoke. “I left the party early so we’d have plenty of time.”
I couldn’t help but smile in return. Just seeing him seemed to make everything in my world better. When his lips found mine, I didn’t resist. I let him draw me in, and tease me with his clean, green woodland scent.
He broke away. “Would you like something to eat?”
I laughed at his suggestive wink then sobered. “Can we talk first?”
August’s fingers gripped mine. “Everything okay?” He paled and his features tightened. “Is it your mom? Or…or… Is it us?” His voice all but faded away on the last word.
“Shit, no…not that talk.” A flicked of panic chased through me. I was already messing this up. “But I do have a couple of things to tell you.” We reached his living room. “Maybe sit down?”
Worry marred his beautiful face again. Shit, I was still making a mess.
I kissed his lips. “It’s okay,” I murmured. “It’s about Dawson.”
“Oh, God!” He slumped into a sitting position on his sofa and covered his face. “Is he injured?”
“No, he’s not—”
“Dead?” August’s pale face peered up at me from between his fingers. “Has Dawson died?”
“Shit, no.” Fuck, I was never this ineloquent, and I hadn’t even had that much beer. August was just the last guy on the planet I wanted to hurt.
I sat next to him, pulling him as close to me as I could get, then drew the same throw over us we’d used the first time we talked about Dawson. But I still hesitated when it came to just spitting out the news, which was ridiculous, given that I had no problem hurting the feelings of the chefs in my
kitchen when they failed to meet my standards… This was different. This was August, my August, and his pain was my pain.
I shook my head to clear my worries. “He’s coming back.”
For a moment, I thought August hadn’t heard, and I shifted from resting my cheek against his hair to look at him. He sat perfectly still, his eyes wide, his expression neutral, as if whatever usually animated him had stepped out for a moment.
“August?” I prompted. “Did you hear—”
He nodded, the movement almost in slow motion, and a single tear tracked down his cheek. I caught it with the pad of my thumb, wiping it away as though it had never existed, but I couldn’t do the same with August’s sadness, and I tightened my arm around his waist, attempting to hold him together if he needed to fall apart.
“I don’t want to see him.” His voice remained flat. “I’ll never forgive him.”
I stayed quiet, waiting for the rest.
And it came. “I mean, he can’t just expect to come back and pick up where he left off. The key word there is left, right? He left. He left me.” August’s voice rose until he was shouting into the quiet of his apartment. “He left me, and I don’t want him anymore.”
As he fell silent, I pressed a kiss to his temple. I’d never leave this man like that, never let him down.
Four days later, August sat next to me in my car as we headed toward The Cedar House. His hand rested lightly on my thigh.
“What did they say?” He half turned toward me.
“Not a lot. Another bad day.”
“She asking for you again?”
I shook my head. I didn’t know. They hadn’t said, and that omission worried me. “It was a short conversation.” My words came out tense and snappy, but instead of pulling away from me, August stroked his thumb over the denim of my jeans, tiny movements, as if letting me know he was there.
I almost skidded into the parking lot, sending up a fine spray of loose gravel and dirt, and I jumped out of the car and strode toward the house, barely waiting for August as he jogged behind me to catch up. I wasn’t used to sharing my worries with Mom about anyone. I coped alone. And I was strong. I also didn’t want to unload my fears onto August and make them his, so I clamped down my feelings behind the set of my jaw and my lack of words.
