Chapter 34

Ithrew that stupid skirt away with its one stubborn-as-all-get-up wrinkle. I didn’t need that mess in my life. I’d buy a new skirt with no wrinkles and keep it that way. Hang it up and never touch it unless necessary. Put it in our old room and leave it in there where no one could touch it.

I sighed as I dropped the lid on the dumpster. That was an unreasonable thought. I couldn’t just make a room for a single freaking skirt—even if the idea of a wrinkle-free, drama-free skirt was a nice one.

While the store was technically in vacation mode, I opened up The Treehouse to the public. Not that I expected anyone to show up. Mostly I just needed to feel like me again. Nolan’s shop was the closest thing to home I had—the books, the soft pillows, the reading corners. It was a sanctuary without all the bad memories and painful emotions attached to it.

No one visited, which I expected. It gave me the chance to sift through Nolan’s social media—rather, all of his social media for N. Bailey, the wolf shifter smut goddess. That was what Nolan’s readers called him. It made me giggle every time someone called him a goddess. If only they knew their wolf-shifter smut goddess was actually a nerdy bookstore owner in his mid-twenties.

God, they’d lose their ever-loving minds… in the best ways.

I’d always told Nolan he should be more open about who he was. Male writers breaking into romance was becoming more and more of a thing. His fans would’ve adored him. The only real issue was his social anxiety, but there had to be a way to manage that without hindering his career.

I scoured the internet for book conventions and information on hosting signings. Cedar Harbor was so small for something like that, even if The Treehouse was a perfect place for it.

My phone buzzed incessantly on the countertop while I scrolled his emails. I ignored it. It was probably the obligatory follow-up call my mother always made after breakfast together. She called every time with a list of improvements for my behavior, my attitude, my appearance, and more. Just this once, I could be busy.

But when the phone went off again, I sighed and resigned myself to hearing everything she had to say to me as I answered.

“Nemo,” Nolan whispered into the phone with a sense of urgency in his voice. Oh no. I stood taller. “Nemo, Nemo, Nemo.”

“Nolan,” I began and chewed on my lip, “I’m not there.”

“Nemo,” he repeated. “There’s a woman running my store like it’s okay to have it open when I’m on vacation.”

I grinned and hung up. Not even two seconds later, the shop door flew open, banging violently off the wall.

“Shit, I really need to get Declan to fix that,” Nolan announced. He wouldn’t. He’d been saying the same thing for years. “Is this enough coffee?”

He set a giant tote bag on the counter. I immediately dragged it close and peeked inside, squealing with excitement at the bags upon bags of my favorite seasonal coffee grounds stacked in it.

“I’m going to assume that’s a yes,” he said. “If it’s not, I have an entire carton in the car as well.”

“Yes, please.” I beamed. I’d have enough coffee for a whole year if he had that much. “Did you drive to Olympia for my favorite coffee?”

“I’d do anything for you,” he replied casually. He dropped into the chair next to me. “That, and I ran away from my brothers and their morning shenanigans by leaving stupid early to drive there instead.”

I laughed quietly. I could only imagine the shenanigans the Byrnes were into so early in the morning, considering most of them were probably still drunk.

“If that’s still not enough, I’m more than willing to take you into Olympia,” he continued. “I’ll buy you all the coffee you want until it’s enough.”

I eyed him for a long moment. He was far too willing to go into Olympia. He hated the city. Getting him to go into the city twice in one day? That was practically unheard of—a miracle in and of itself.

“Everyone’s on their way here for the last leg of the games, aren’t they?” I asked. Escaping chaos was about the only reason I could think of.

“Yeah.” Nolan sighed loudly, his head falling back against the chair. “My brothers are on their way back. The Ironwoods and the Stones will be leaving this evening to head our way. The chaos is coming to Cedar Harbor. Take me away. Beam me up. Nemo, Nemo, Nemo. We aren’t in Kansas.”

“God, you’re dramatic,” I scoffed. I loved that about him. “You only have to get through a few days, and then it’ll be over.”

“But what if they stay?” he demanded. “What if even just Roan stays? God, that man is like six idiots in one when he gets started.”

“I thought you liked Roan?”

“I love Roan like a brother, but even my brothers can act like idiots,” Nolan retorted. “And Roan leads the cavalry with an iron horse.”

“Did you just call his motorcycle an iron horse?” I snorted, giggling at his antics. “Nolan, it’d be made of steel.”

“Steel, iron, copper, bullshit, it’s all the same.” He shrugged while I laughed harder. “What? Roan’s going to ride in here on his bike and be drunk. For days! Weeks if we’re unlucky! What about the summer Roan came to visit for a weekend and stayed for four months?”

“Oh, what if he moves in with you?” I teased. “He could live on your couch. Or maybe cuddle you at night.”

“Stop!” He drew out the word with the utmost drama. “He’d actually do it! My life would come to an end. Call the papers. Put out a notice. End of life. Here I come.”

“You came back feisty,” I noted with a smile. I missed these conversations with him.

“I did.” He sighed and peeked at the laptop screen. “How are my ladies doing?”

“Feral as always,” I said. So freaking accurate. Nolan was such a good writer. The way he weaved romances and created characters had readers eating out of the palm of his hand. I remembered his first book years ago. It’d been a weird little endeavor he didn’t think would work. It took a few years, but he made a name for himself—rather for N. Bailey. All of which he didn’t want, so I helped him deal with the people while he wrote all the words. “I had an idea.”

“No,” Nolan replied immediately, and I frowned.

“You didn’t even hear what I had to say!” I exclaimed.

“You have that look!”

“What look?”

“The one you always get when you’re about to say something I don’t want to admit is right.”

“Maybe you should listen to me more,” I stated, arching a brow. “I was thinking we should talk about your public image.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “I don’t like that idea.”

“Nolan—”

“I like my public image where it’s at,” he cut me off. “I like not having one. At all. I like being a bookshop owner who secretly writes porn.”

“What if we hired Finn to be your public image?” I asked jokingly.

“Nah, you’d have to go with Lucas and that pierced dick he’s so incredibly proud of.”

“God,” I scoffed. “He’d end up dancing around the convention with it out just to get laughs. Obviously a reasonable choice.”

“No, the only reasonable one would be Declan,” Nolan said. Oh, good Lord. He wasn’t wrong. Maybe Sam could’ve pulled it off, but Sam would’ve cussed someone out for asking the wrong question. Only Declan would’ve had the mindset to handle all of it. I giggled.

“Can you imagine Declan trying to be a smut writer?”

“Can you imagine Raven if we asked him to?” he countered. He paused, his lips pursing together as he drifted off with the thought. Oh, he was going to ask Declan. “I might just ask him to mess with him.”

“Make sure I’m there,” I said. “Should I table this thought for another time?”

“You can. I won’t change my mind.” He kept saying that, but I had a feeling he would. Nolan was on the cusp of his writing career. I just knew it. “What else do we have going on?”

“Your editor will get Mac and Ella’s manuscript back to you next week.” I pulled up my notes list for him. “She asked that you have your read-thru done in two weeks, so she can do a once-over for you after.”

“Makes sense. I’ll adjust the shop schedule once I get it back, so I can prioritize that.” Of course, he would. He did so every time.

“I already shot an email to Raven about that. Your trailer will be ready in a week too.”

“God, I hate that trailers are a thing,” he muttered.

“They’re great for marketing,” I reminded him. “And we have several ads prepped for running, your street team is going wild with promotion.”

“How did we incentivize them again?” Nolan frowned. He never had a clue about half the things I did with his street team. He just shoved money in my direction and told me to take care of it.

“Artwork. Very… detailed… artwork.” God, I could feel my ears burning just thinking about the piece his illustrator had created. I’d never get that image out of my head.

“Good deal. What else?”

“Wutherford and Dart are helping with the next book’s announcements, your pre-order is set for submission when you’re ready.” I continued scrolling, prattling off the very long list of things I’d managed to accomplish or needed to be done. It just kept going and going and going. While I did, Nolan’s frown grew increasingly more intense until it drove me mad. “What? What’d I do wrong?”

“When did you get all this done?”

“Most of it I got done today.”

“You went to breakfast at your parents’, didn’t you?” Nolan sighed. I knew what he thought of my parents, but he couldn’t understand. He never would. Parents like Maeve Byrne were rare. We all weren’t that lucky.

“It’s fine.” I waved him off. “I’m fine.”

“You’re overcompensating,” he said.

“I am not!”

“You are. All of this didn’t need to be done this morning. The shop didn’t need to be run. You could’ve taken the morning off for you.”

“I don’t need to focus on me,” I told him. I didn’t want to. Alone time not working meant thinking. Thinking led to thoughts of Killian. I didn’t want those thoughts. The more I had, the more I felt myself fracturing, and I refused to break. Not now. Not again. Not ever.

“Ginny,” Nolan began quietly as he reached over and closed the laptop. I pursed my lips together, but I refused to look at him. “I’d like to talk about how you’re doing.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Nolan.”

“Ginny, he’s coming back, and I’m worried about you,” he continued. Damn man, knowing better than he should have. My eyes burned, and I blinked back tears. I refused to cry. I wouldn’t. “After everything you went through, I can’t imagine what you’re thinking.”

“I told you while I was drunk—”

“But you did tell me,” Nolan interrupted. “And I think that’s important to remember, no matter what the circumstances. He’s coming back, Ginny, and all of that… it’s going to come up again.”

“It doesn’t have to,” I whispered.

“Do you believe that?” he asked. I wanted to. I closed my eyes, wishing I could tune him out and pretend none of this was happening. “Don’t hide on me, Ginny. Please.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not—”

“Please, just let me pretend I’m fine, Nolan,” I begged pathetically, my voice cracking. I inhaled sharply to push back the sob trying to claw its way out of my chest. “Let me be fine. Please. Nothing has to change.”

His chair scooted across the carpet, and his arms wrapped around my shoulders. I went willingly as he pulled me tight to his chest. My eyes squeezed shut, but that didn’t stop the silent tears.

I was a liar.

I lied to him.

I lied to myself.

There was no way Killian could come home and nothing would change. Just the thought of being around him threatened to blow open all the little boxes I’d shoved memories into as a way to survive.

I didn’t know if I could handle what would happen when I lost control of them. I’d drown. I’d drown in all the memories and emotions. And I didn’t know how I’d survive them.