Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

Brynn

O nce again, I wake up to an empty villa.

It’s like Groundhog Day —the bed is put away, the blankets and pillow neatly stacked on the end of the couch.

The only new thing is our decorated tree. I know we’re going to earn the win today. The other trees were adorable in their own right, but ours is out of their league.

I pull on a sweatshirt, slide into my boots, and trek across the paved path to the main lodge, careful not to slip like I did last night. As soon as I open the door, I hear my mom’s laugh.

I figured Pierce was working out, but he’s in the kitchen with my mom, the two of them moving around one another as if they’ve done it for years.

Mom catches sight of me in the doorway. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

There’s no one else in the villa, so I don’t understand how I could be the last one awake.

“Where is everyone, and what are you two doing?” I rub the sleep from my eyes and reposition my ponytail. I thought I had time to make myself presentable, since yesterday the guys didn’t come back from working out until much later.

“Everyone is relaxing in their villas, I suppose. Your dad had to run out to get more eggs.”

I slide up onto the breakfast stool. “You’re not working out this morning?” I ask Pierce, who is mixing up pancake batter.

“I’m a little sore from yesterday. I’m used to standing at a podium the majority of the day.”

“What’s it like being a professor?” Mom asks while I climb off the stool to get my coffee.

“I’ll get it.” Pierce stops me with a hand placed over mine on the counter. My gaze lifts to his, and he gives me a sweet smile.

“I got it.” I slide my hand from under his and walk over to the beverage bar. I pour coffee from the carafe and add my milk and cinnamon as Pierce tells my mom about teaching at the university.

“I was just talking to Brynn about it last night. I enjoy it, but I think I want to do more than just teach about it now, and I figure I’m only getting older.”

“How old are you?” she asks, pretending to be less interested than I know she is while she cuts up fruit for her yogurt parfait bar that’s a staple in this family.

“Careful, Pierce, she’s got her shovel,” I say before sipping my coffee, walking back to the stool.

“Oh, stop it, Brynn. I’m getting to know our guest,” she says innocently.

“I’m thirty,” he answers.

If he was smart, he’d have waited to see if she was going to ask again.

“That’s not too much older, right, Brynn?” She looks at me, reaching for a bag of granola.

“Too old for what, Mom?” We both know what she’s implying.

“To start a new career,” she says, winking at me.

Oh, Mom, stop matchmaking.

“That’s why I was interviewing at the same place as Brynn.”

The bag slips from my mom’s grasp, and granola pours over the counter. “Oh crap.”

I slide off the stool to help her clean up. Pierce stops measuring the pancake mixture to help too.

“Sorry, I’m a little clumsy this morning. I actually forgot that the two of you were going after the same job.” She finishes with the granola while Pierce and I scoop up the pieces that fell and walk over to the trash can at the same time.

Life isn’t fair. His hair looks just fucked, and I can’t help but wish I was the reason it looked like that. No, I don’t. What am I thinking?

“Well, Pierce is going to get it,” I say, turning away from him and closing my eyes to get the ache between my thighs to dissolve.

“I don’t think so. Your accomplishments in the workplace are impressive.” Pierce takes the whisk, and his forearms flex with the movement of stirring the batter. Corded muscles, deep veins. God help me, I’m describing his forearm as if it’s his dick.

“Maybe there’s room for both of you?” my mom asks.

I laugh and shake my head. “Doubtful.”

Thankfully, she lets the topic go and doesn’t ask any further questions.

“Are you going to hit the runs today?” Pierce asks me.

“I’m not sure. I might scratch another movie off the list.”

“You can watch movies after vacation. The two of you should be out there on the mountains.” Mom arranges the yogurt parfait bar on the butcher block behind the table. She goes back and forth to make sure there are bowls and spoons.

“I’d love to go with you,” Pierce says, turning on the burner and plopping butter on the griddle.

“Where did you learn to cook?” I ask, surprised by his skills. He doesn’t seem like the type.

He looks out of the corner of his eyes at my mom, then back at the pancakes. “Um… boarding school.”

My mouth falls open. “You went to boarding school?”

He nods and spoons the batter onto the hot griddle.

Mom is obviously intrigued because she leans her hip along the counter. “From what age?”

“Eleven to eighteen.”

I’m not sure how comfortable he is talking about it, based on his body language. He’s more closed off than I’ve ever seen him.

“Oh… did you enjoy it?” my mom asks.

“Mom,” I say, giving her a look to say stop asking questions.

“It’s okay.” He picks up the spatula and stands straight, looking from my mom to me. “My parents died when I was eleven, so…”

I feel my mom’s eyes on me, but I can’t look away from Pierce. “I’m sorry,” I whisper.

He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. In their will, they asked for Andrew’s parents to be my guardians but wanted me sent to boarding school. Andrew’s dad wanted to respect his brother’s wishes, and so he did.”

He studies the pancakes, flipping each one, and I take the moment to look at my mom.

There are tears in her eyes, but she doesn’t let them fall, placing her hand on Pierce’s shoulder. “I’m sorry to hear about your parents. They’d be proud of the man you’ve turned out to be. I mean, I know I don’t know you very well, but from what I do know, you’re a good man.”

“Thank you, Gwen. Like I said, it was a long time ago… anyway, everyone had to work in the kitchen at some point, so I learned a lot.” He nods and takes the pancakes off the griddle.

The door opens, and my dad stands there, holding bags full of groceries.

“Let me help you,” I say, rushing off the stool before anyone else gets a chance.

“Thanks,” Dad says. “What’s going on in here? You all look like you’re at a funeral.”

“Oh god.” I squeeze my eyes shut.

“Abe,” my mom says with annoyance and takes a bag from me.

“What did I say?” He sets the other bags on the counter and unpacks them.

“I just told them that my parents died when I was eleven.” Pierce says it so nonchalantly, as if it wasn’t devastating.

My dad frowns. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Like I said, it was a long time ago.”

Pierce keeps saying that same thing, but can time really change the fact that you lost your parents at such a young age? That has to leave scars. I understand that you can get used to living alone, but it just confirms what I already feared—Andrew is Pierce’s only family.

I can’t imagine not having the support system of my parents and siblings. What must that feel like? And then your parents ask for you to go to boarding school to live with a bunch of strangers in the midst of your grief?

My dad doesn’t ask any other questions. “Those pancakes look good,” he remarks, walking by the stovetop and putting something in the cupboard.

“Abe, can you see if Carter and Faith are back while I go see about the other ones? I don’t want breakfast to get cold.” Mom leaves the lodge.

“I just saw them get back from somewhere, so I’ll knock and let them know.” Dad follows my mom out the door, leaving me alone with Pierce.

Neither of us says anything, and I watch him.

“Please don’t look at me like that,” he whispers, pouring a new round of pancakes onto the griddle.

“I’m not.” I shake my head, but I know that’s why my parents left. To compose themselves.

“You are. I’m fine. I’m in one piece, living my life.”

“Pierce…”

He finally glances up. “This is why I hate telling people. I hate that look on your face right now.”

I walk around the island, unsure of my actions, but I’m going on gut instinct because it’s what I would want if I was him. I wrap my arms around his waist and lean my head on his back. It rises and falls with a deep breath. He doesn’t turn around or place his hands over mine on his stomach. But most of all, he doesn’t push me away.

My heart would break for anyone who went through what he did, but I can’t ignore the extra layers his story dug through me because I do care about him. No matter how much I push away these feelings for him, they’re there.

The door opens, and I quickly unwrap my arms from around his waist, wiping my eyes and opening the fridge to pretend I’m looking for something.

“Yogurt parfait. Tessa’s favorite.” Tre comes in with Ryah in his arms.

She’ll be a good distraction from the puzzling emotions for Pierce I can’t piece together yet.