“It feels like a lot,” she finally says when it’s clear I’m not going anywhere.
“True,” I say. “But you can handle a lot.”
She rolls her eyes at me. “I don’t need a speech about how I can do hard things.”
“Apparently not. Seems like you already know it.”
“You don’t think it would be too much?” she asks. “For me to be there?”
“Not if you don’t let it be.”
“I’m not quite as good at being strong as you are.”
I snort. “Well, I learned the hard way what showing weakness does.”
“You seem to forget I was there when Lila first started her new job with you and was struggling with her new role. You gave her a whole speech about needing to ask for help and how it doesn’t make you less of a person,” Izzy says, scrubbing the pan I used to heat the spaghetti sauce.
“And I fully meant that,” I say. “But it’s different when you’re the owner, the leader. You know that. Lila hasmeto help her. I have to know the answer. There isn’t someone else I canturn to.”
My sister’s thick eyebrows pull together. “You have a lot of people in your life you can turn to.”
“Totally,” I agree. “They just don’t know anything about security.”
“Hey! I finally put a six-digit passcode on my phone,” Izzy teases. “I think I could add a lot to a security conversation.”
“Whatever you need to tell yourself,” I say, grabbing a thin white towel out of the drawer to dry.
After a few moments of silence, Izzy turns to me and says, “I’ll think about it.”
From the uncertain look on her face, I know she means coming to a Jaxon Steele concert, so I offer a simple nod, continuing to dry the larger dishes as she washes them by hand.
Once Izzy starts rinsing the smaller dishes and loading them directly into the dishwasher as she goes, I leave her alone, heading toward the sound of the TV coming from the living room.
As I walk into my parents’ living room, the one I grew up in, I look for a place to sit, annoyed to find couples subtly cuddling on both couches. Even my parents seem to have decided to join in, my mom snuggled up against my dad’s side as he rests his arm over her shoulders. Bryn and Jameo are on the couch next to them, my sister’s head leaning against Jameson’s bicep, their hands intertwined on his jeans-clad thigh.
I sigh, focusing my attention on the other couch, the one JT is taking up the majority of.
“How is Denver already down by two touchdowns?” I ask, shoving JT’s feet off the end of the couch.
He lifts his head from where it’s resting in Lila’s lap, a wildly inappropriate place for it to be in my parents’ living room, giving me an annoyed look.
I shrug. Where else am I going to sit?
He leverages his large body into a sitting position, pulling Lila into his side. “Thompson threw a pick-six two minutes in,” he responds to my question about the score as I curl up in the seat he vacated.
Less than two years ago, a send-off dinner would’ve just been me, my parents, and my sisters. I knew what spot at the table was mine, what seat on the couch would be left open for me.
I ignore the slight tightening in my chest at the sight of everyone in my life pairing up, moving on from the way things used to be. Change is good. And I’m about to cause the biggest change of all, leaving for seven weeks to undertake the most important contract of my entire life. The one that could finally put KH Security on the map. The one that would allow me to grow and expand into the company I’ve always wanted to lead—the one I was on the cusp of leading five years ago, before everything happened.
I focus my attention on the game, not interested in letting my thoughts dwell on the past. I learned from my mistakes. I started over in Wild Bluffs. Reflecting on it is not going to change anything.
Chapter six
Carter
IpullintoKelsey’sdriveway the next morning, five minutes before I said I would pick her up to carpool to the airport together. Well, technically, she thinks Trent arranged for me to pick her up, but I’m not supposed to tell anyone I handle Trent’s emails for him.
It’s better for everyone this way. Not only is Trent shit at actually responding to emails on time, he also tends to give people incorrect information. Unfortunately, he’s conceited enough to still want to be the primary contact for everything, so our compromise is that I monitor his email address and handle all the business that comes through it as if I’m him. Which is fine. I don’t care if people think they’re talking to me or him. I care that the company continues bringing in enough money to pay me my salary. The one I so desperately need these days. And we have a better chance of doing that if Trent gets nowhere near his email.
