Chapter 20

CHAPTER TWENTY

ROWAN

I didn’t mean to fuck her. I specifically didn’t bring a condom because I wasn’t going to fuck her…and because I would have felt like a creep to sneak in here in the middle of the night with a condom in my pocket to give her the news that our friend is all right, but, oh, my grandmother basically poisoned him. I definitely didn’t mean to fuck her like that , like it meant something. But I can feel deep in my bones that it did.

If I’m in trouble, and I’m pretty damn sure I am, I can’t bring myself to care. Kennedy is like an elixir restoring me. A balm to my wounds. When I’m with her, it’s easy to forget all my failings.

She looks up at me from where she’s nestled in the crook of my arm. “You said you’d show me your cars earlier,” she says. “I’d like to see them.”

Something warm unfurls in my chest, but I tell myself I’m just pleased she remembered. Many people wouldn’t.

I get up and locate my pants, pulling out my phone.

I’m not surprised to see I’ve missed texts from Holly and Bryn, but I’ll look at those later. I pull up photos of my two latest projects and pass the phone over.

“You made those?” Kennedy asks, her eyes widening. I can tell she’s actually impressed.

That warmth in my chest spreads, feeling dangerously like pride, but I insist, “It’s just a hobby. I work on them when I have time and donate them at Christmas.” Delight fills her gaze, and I laugh as I slip back into bed beside her. She burrows into me, and my smile widens. “I know what you’re thinking. It’s definitely not because I have a thing for Christmas.”

“Then what is it, you pretend grinch?” she asks, still beaming at me.

I draw the blanket up and over us, not wanting her to get cold. It’s an old house, drafty even when I’m not messing with the radiators. I pick up a lock of her long, glossy hair and run it through my fingers. It’s grounding in a strange way. “I know what it’s like, is all. To live in the house where Santa doesn’t stop. I might think it’s bullshit now, but it’s not bullshit to those kids. I don’t want them to feel like they don’t matter because Kris Kringle didn’t stick the newest iPad in their stocking.”

Her face stricken, she puts an arm around my waist, her grip stronger than I’d expect. “Oh, Rowan.”

I laugh. “No need to Oh, Rowan me. It’s bullshit that kids are taught they’ll get gifts if they behave a certain way, when the truth is, some kids aren’t going to get them at all. It makes them think they’re no good. That’s why I do it. They shouldn’t have to think they’re worth less than anyone else.”

“That’s beautiful,” she says, but a crease forms between her eyebrows. “Is that a problem here?”

This time my laugh is harsher. “Poverty? Last I checked, it’s a problem just about everywhere, but yeah, there are a lot of families below the poverty line in Heber County.”

A look of determination steals over her face. “I’m going to talk about it on the show. There must be a local organization that I can get the producers to donate money to.”

I don’t like her mentioning the show. It sours my mood like milk left out too long. Because as much as we’ve been pretending otherwise, our situation hasn’t changed. She can’t be my woman, and I sure as hell can’t be her man.

“We can’t let my grandmother get away with this shit.”

“I agree,” she says. “I have some thoughts about what we can do.”

I should let her tell me, but suddenly the truth is pressing at my lips, demanding to come out, because fuck, if ever there’s a time for honesty, it’s now. “I’m going to do what I can to stop this show from happening, Kennedy,” I blurt.

“What?” she asks, pulling the blanket up. I feel a pang of regret, because I can tell I’ve damaged something between us. “Why?”

I start to get a little pissed. “You’re seriously asking why I want to stop the show?” I ask, sitting up abruptly. “For one thing, I don’t want those assholes following you around, trying to lure you into—”

She lifts her eyebrows.

“Well, I don’t. You said you understood that.”

“I do,” she says with consternation.

“And for another, my grandmother has obviously lost what little sense she was born with. For fuck’s sake, she basically poisoned Harry.”

“That’d be twice now,” she says with a nod.

“He told you about the sweet tea incident, huh?” I run a hand through my hair, then grab my shirt off the floor and tug it on.

“He did.”

Kennedy’s watching me with these sad eyes that make me feel like I punched a puppy, but it feels wrong to be naked for this conversation. I don’t want her to feel vulnerable too, so I hand her the cutesy nightshirt she had on, which is a desperately sexy thing for a grown woman with curves to wear, it turns out. The way it clings to her breasts and hips makes it a masterpiece.

She takes it without comment, pulling it over her head as I locate my underwear and work jeans and pull them on.

“I guess there’s something I should tell you,” I say, shoving my phone into the pocket of my jeans.”

“Oh?” she asks. She’s sitting up on the bed, watching me from it, and I feel a pang of regret because minutes ago we were nestled there together, pretending the rest of the world didn’t exist—or that it could go fuck itself. I wish I could rewind the clock, but I know from experience that it’s impossible. Pointless to even think about. I try not to take part in pointless things whenever possible.

“I’ve been trying to get this show canceled since the beginning.” I didn’t mean to say it defensively, but it sounds defensive. “This isn’t good for my family. What Jay told me about my parentage…my mother wanted my grandmother to talk about it on air. And my sisters and me…we’ve gone through enough with our grandmother. We don’t need her to have a platform for her bullshit. No one in this town does. She’s always caused more harm than good. Always .”

Something flickers on her face, but I can’t read it. What I can read is her body language. She’s crossed her arms over her chest. She’s not happy, not that I expected otherwise.

“What have you been doing, exactly?” she asks.

I suck in a breath and rock on my heels. I don’t like the way she’s looking at me, but I probably deserve it. I know this show is important to her, and I was trying to fuck it up. Those are facts. I nudge the floor with my foot. “The radiator malfunction. The power going out. The hole in the fondue pot.”

“The beeping alarm,” she continues. “The leaking sink. The howling noise.”

I shrug self-consciously, because it all sounds pretty stupid when it’s listed out like that. “A dead fish in the back of the toilet tank in a bathroom near the guys. I guess Jonah’s complained about the smell.”

One corner of her mouth lifts up, and she gives a little shake of her head. “You lack your grandmother’s killer instinct, you know. She’d have had half the guys holed up in bed by now, nursing injuries.”

“I know,” I say, because she’s right. “I didn’t want to hurt anyone, but I figured if there were enough annoyances they’d give up. People like them aren’t used to putting up with shit like that. They’re not patient with it.”

“You mean people like me ,” she says, tightening her arms over her chest.

Christ, I really didn’t, but I can see how it sounded like that.

Then she gasps and shoots an accusatory look at me. “Did you turn me orange? The makeup artist said she’d used that tanner before and it had never had that result.”

I swear under my breath but nod, because the truth is out now. Might as well be fully honest.

Her eyes look glassy now, like she’s holding in tears, and I feel like a prize asshole. First, I upset Willow, then Ivy, and now Kennedy. I can’t do anything right.

“Are you really doing this for your family, Rowan, for your town? Or is it because you’re sick of being called Cupid?”

I clench my jaw, because there’s a grain of truth in what she’s accusing me of. Defensiveness rises up within me like toxic sludge. “Don’t you see? My grandmother’s lost her mind. She’s spying on you, poisoning Harry. She needs to be stopped.” Then I remember what Kennedy said after—

Don’t remember what it felt like to be inside her, don’t remember the feeling in your chest when she fell apart around you .

It sounded like she had an idea for stopping my grandmother.

“Didn’t you say you had some thoughts about how to deal with Nana?”

“I did,” she says, her arms still wrapped across her chest like they’re armor. “But I’m not so sure it’s a good idea anymore. You’ve made it clear just what you think of me, Rowan. You should leave.”

But I can’t leave her like this. I can’t .

“I didn’t do any of that shit after our evening at the pool, Kennedy,” I say, sickened by the note of pleading in my voice. Has it come to this?

Maybe I’m like my father after all, my real father, consumed by a woman.

Maybe I don’t care.

“Okay,” she says.

“Okay?”

“I need to figure out a way to make this work without getting the show canceled,” she says firmly. “Leto’s Hands needs this to work.” She lets her arms drop, and I’m happier about it than I probably should be. There’s still a severe look on her face, one that reminds me of that first day, when she came off as regal and cold. Like she was better than me and knew it. Now, I guess she does know that she’s better than me. “Those kids you help, Rowan. I’m trying to do the same thing on a bigger scale.”

She probably didn’t mean for that to make me feel like shit.

“I’ll leave you to it, then,” I say. “You don’t need help from someone with such mediocre ambitions.”

I turn to leave, catching sight of the stupid Christmas tree as I do. Another dumb thing for me to have done, especially when Christmas has always served as a reminder of all the things I don’t have.

She says my name as I’m leaving, but I don’t turn around. My blood is pumping in my ears, and I feel fucked up and wrong, like everything I do is a mistake. Even this, leaving now, feels like a mistake. But I don’t know how to do anything differently. I don’t know how to do things the way they should be done—if I did, I’d do them right the first time.

I don’t want to see anyone. I don’t want to talk to anyone. But I have the misfortune of living with two roommates, and when I arrive at my house, the overhead lights are on in the living room—the Christmas lights too. Seeing them feels like being knifed in the gut, but I swallow back my emotions. I hope to God Cole and his daughter are gone by now. Maybe that’s a shit thing to think, but I guess I’m a shit person.

I try to go in quietly, but the house is old, and despite all the time I spend tuning it up and oiling the hinges, it creaks like a casket in a horror movie.

Fuck.

The three people on the couch in the living room turn toward the door as one, preventing me from escaping up the stairs like I was hoping.

Oliver. Harry, with pink welts all over his face. Holly.

They’re sitting by the tree, which looks much better than you’d think, considering it was decorated by an eight-year-old. They all have mugs of something. It’s a cozy scene, and I feel a little prick of loneliness because I’m not a part of it. My mind returns to Kennedy, shut up in her room in that cavernous house, with only those assholes and some production assistants and cameramen to keep her company.

I shouldn’t have left her like that, but I can’t even call to apologize. And what would be the point? I did turn her orange. Is there any coming back from that?

“Want a drink?” Oliver asks, lifting his mug.

I’d prefer to climb into my bed and forget everything for a while, but that feeling of loneliness intrudes.

Kennedy is alone. Maybe you should be too.

But I ask, “Is there alcohol in it?”

Harry laughs this time. “Your friend makes very stiff drinks.” He pulls a face. “Your grandmother too, but at least I knew this one was alcoholic going into it. That makes a difference.”

“Should you really be drinking after—”

“He was only given a topical cream,” Holly says in an undertone, as if it’s a sensitive subject. Judging by the unhappy tilt of Harry’s lips, I guess it is. Oliver gets up to fix me a drink, thank God.

“They refused to take me seriously,” Harry says. “The same thing happened to Willow one time, and they gave her a steroid shot.”

“Huh,” I say. “Yeah, I remember that.” Back when Harry lived in Asheville, he and Willow were roommates, and they made the mistake of using some cheesy unicorn face masks that triggered an allergic reaction in my sister. “Maybe the ER is more reactive there.”

“I wish she hadn’t left tonight,” Harry says mournfully. “But I also didn’t like her seeing me like this.”

I jolt a little. “She came by the house after visiting Jay?”

Holly studies me and nods. Is that the nod of someone who knows I’m the product of an affair?

“She seemed upset by something,” she tells me. “Any idea what that’s about?”

“You assume it was my fault?” I snap.

She sets down her drink, cocoa, I can see now, and lifts her hands palm outward like I’m a feral dog. Apparently, I’m not the only one who thinks so, because she says, “No one said it was your fault, Cujo. She just mentioned she’d seen you at the hospital, so I figured you might know what’s up.”

Oliver chooses that moment to return with the drink, thank God. I take it from him and then take a big slug because right now, I couldn’t give a shit if it burns my mouth. It does. But it’s not a bad burn because it’s chased by the taste of whiskey, and the burning in my gut is not unpleasant this time.

I lower into a chair across from where the three of them are nestled on the couch, Oliver and Harry on one side, Holly on the other.

“You decorated the tree,” I say.

“Yes,” Holly says. “We like to make merry around here.”

“Jane told me it was hard to look at me,” Harry says sorrowfully. At another time I would have laughed. Cole’s daughter is nothing if not direct, but I can’t muster any humor. My mind is Willow’s visit. Had she wanted to tell Holly about the Jay thing?

Probably. She’s gotten more into talking about her feelings lately.

I should just get it over with and tell them he’s my father. Except Bryn might get offended if she finds out last.

I scrub a hand over my face. “Let’s FaceTime Bryn,” I mumble.

“Are you okay?” Holly asks with genuine concern. She’s eyeing me like she’s no longer certain I’m her brother.

“Oh, for Christ’s sake,” I say. “I know what FaceTime is. I don’t live in a cave.”

“No, you’d just like to,” Oliver rebuts. Despite the smartass comment, there’s a look of concern on his face too. He’s trying to keep things light because he thinks I need him to. Maybe he’s right. I’m not really sure what I need right now, but my mind is conjuring images of a princess room with a discount tree in front of the shuttered window.

I take another mouth-burning gulp of the hot chocolate. “Just do it, okay?”

“Is it okay if I hang out in the background?” Harry asks, lifting a hand to his welts. “No one else should have to look at me right now. I probably gave Jane nightmares.”

Oliver gives him a fond look. “I don’t know. I think they’re kind of cute.”

“Okay, enough flirting,” Holly says, pulling out her phone. “My brother is clearly going through some sort of personal-slash-existential crisis. The next thing I know he’ll be asking us to use TikTok.”

“What’s TikTok?” I ask.

“There he is,” Holly says with a grin as she clicks away at her phone. Despite Oliver’s assurances, Harry gets up. Since I’ll presumably need to be seen, I get up from my chair and gesture for him to take it, then steal his place on the couch.

The video call rings twice before Bryn picks up. I feel like crap when I see her rubbing her eyes, the headboard of her bed in the background. It’s past eleven on a weeknight. She’s pregnant, and her fiancé is the CEO of a billion-dollar company. Multi-billion dollar. Of course they’re fucking asleep.

“What happened?” she asks frantically. “Is Jay okay?”

I hear her fiancé, Rory, muttering in the background.

“Shit. I’m sorry,” I say. “I just. I wanted to tell you and Holly at the same time because our other sisters already know. I…”

“Are you sick, Rowan?” Holly asks, her face ashen.

I almost laugh. Almost.

I’m very aware of Rory in the background, listening whether he’d like to or not. Of Harry and Oliver. But secrets haven’t done anyone in this family any favors, and they certainly haven’t done me any favors—I see a flash of Kennedy’s hurt face—so maybe it’s time to unburden myself of mine. “No… It’s just. Jay told me something the other day, after his heart attack. I guess he’s my real dad. Turns out, he and Mom started an affair after she married my dad, but I guess they called it off for a while after she got pregnant with me. Until Willow was a couple of years old.” I clear my throat, feeling awkward now. “I guess Mom wanted to bring it up on the show. She figured it would get her some screen time, but Jay refused to cooperate, and Nana didn’t like the idea anyway. I’m guessing she thought it would take attention away from her and her boy toy.”

“Oh, fuck,” Holly says, dropping the phone on the table. She leans over and wraps her arms around me, engulfing me in a hug. Oliver shrugs and gets in on the action.

“Hey, what’s going on over there?” Bryn asks. “Are you hugging?”

“You want me to drive you over there so you can hug them?” I hear Rory ask. If another man had said that, I would have assumed he meant it sarcastically, but I’m pretty sure he really would drive her over here if she said yes.

“I’m hugging you in spirit,” Harry says. “My skin itches too much.”

My eyes feel hot, and shame cascades through me. I was taught from a very young age that real men are stoic and strong and they absolutely do not, under any circumstances, cry. My father told me so…or at least the man I thought was my father. My grandmother taught me the same thing. Now, here I am, on the verge of it again. My emotions, usually so willingly stuffed away, have been engulfing me lately. My mind shoots to Kennedy again, to the way I left her, and my eyes feel hotter.

I break free of the group hug and grab up the phone. “No need to come over,” I tell Bryn, who stares at me with all the concern of a big sister who’d like to solve everyone’s problems. “I just wanted to let you know at the same time so you wouldn’t feel left out.”

Her lips tip up. “Thank you, Rowan. That means a lot to me.”

There, I got something right. I’m obviously messed in the head, because I’d like to tell Kennedy about this, but I won’t be talking to Kennedy, will I? I should stay away because I hurt her. I should stay away because she makes me feel like I’m veering out of control, and I already feel that way most of the time.

“Now, what are we going to do about Nana?” Holly asks. “She has to be stopped. She tried to poison Harry twice!”

Bryn’s brow furrows in her worried look. “Should we press charges?”

“No one can prove she poisoned Harry,” I say. “She’ll just claim she didn’t know he was allergic to lavender.”

Holly guffaws. “Anyone who’s met him knows. He tells literally everyone inside of two minutes.”

“Do not,” Harry says sullenly. “It just tends to come up sooner or later. That’s not my fault. It’s part of the natural flow of conversation.”

“I like your natural flow of conversation,” Oliver tells him with a smile. “It’s unlike anyone else’s.”

“We don’t do anything,” I insist, earning me surprised looks from all of them. “We leave the decision to Kennedy.”

“Way to bait and switch, Ro,” Holly tells me. “You’re the one who’s been gung-ho on the sabotage mission from day one.”

“Wait, what?” Harry says, frowning. Half a second later, his eyes widen and he points an accusatory finger at me like Donald Sutherland in that peapod people movie. Yeah, it’s old. We only owned about five movies as kids. “It was you. You turned Kennedy orange.”

I sigh and hand the phone over to Holly, who takes it with a look of contrition in her eyes. “Yeah, I did,” I say. “She knows already, so I’m not going to ask you not to tell her.” He still seems upset, and I remember that he’s dreamed of hosting a dating show for years. So I’ve been shitting on someone else’s dream. Fantastic. “I’m sorry man. I fucked up. I just…my grandmother shouldn’t be in a situation of power. She’s not a nice person. I thought it would be best for everyone if I could pull that out from under her while it was still possible.”

“So your solution was to turn Kennedy orange?” he sputters in disbelief.

“Yeah, it sounds like a pretty shit plan when you put it like that.” I rub my beard. “Turns out I’m not very good at sabotage.”

“No, your grandmother’s much better at it. Still, I wish you’d told me.” His mouth twists to the side, then he flinches, so maybe the sudden movement aggravated the hives. “I actually thought you liked Kennedy. I told her—” He cuts himself off and shakes his head, miming that he’s zipping his lips. “You know what, I’ve gotten into too much trouble from opening my mouth when I shouldn’t. I’m going to mind my own business for once.”

Shit. Does he need to start now? I’m suddenly desperate to know every last word he said to her.

“Harry…I do like her.” I swallow, thinking of the disappointment and hurt on her face. “A lot.”

Holly’s eyes immediately widen, and she looks gleeful.

“Yes. Yes ,” she says with feeling. “I knew this was going to happen. You were such a Debbie Downer when I fell for Cole. You said you’d never let yourself fall in love, and now look how the mighty have fallen.”

“Are you calling him mighty?” Oliver snorts.

I simultaneously blurt out, “No, I’m not in love with her. That’s not what I meant.”

Except…I might not be all the way in love with her, but I can’t totally lie to myself. I’m partway there.

“Maybe I should come over,” Bryn says from Holly’s hand, surprising me because I’d forgotten the FaceTime connection was still open on the phone. “It feels like a lot of significant things are happening over there.”

“No, don’t,” I say, but it came out too harsh, so I add, “I’m going to bed soon. I’m really tired. Why don’t you go back to bed too, Bryn?”

“I like that plan,” I hear Rory say in the background. “But, hey, if you need anything, let us know, Rowan.”

Again, I know that he means what he says.

I hate asking my future brother-in-law for help. He’s beyond rich—he’s loaded. Which also means he has people asking him for favors every minute of the day, probably every second. I don’t want to be one more person holding out a hand. But some things in life don’t come cheaply, especially if you need them quickly.

So I sigh and bite the bullet. “Do you think you can get me a bulldog puppy?”