“You turning this round on me. I know how your brain works.” He shook his head like he wasn’t having any of it. “You think you can twist it back on me. It’s like youwantme to go. Youwantme to prove you right so you don’t have to lighten up and take a risk.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She bristled defensively.
“Have I given you any reason to think I’m going to leave?” He cocked his head as he stared right back at her.
There was a pause. The air suddenly pumping with tension again but a different kind from the previous evening. This seemed more fragile, like a line spun from silk that was already stretched as taut as it could go.
Maeve swallowed as she looked into his bright accusing eyes and wondered briefly what it would be like not to worry, to trust him at face value and willingly take that first step on the tightrope.
But she was too certain of the drop.
With a sharp shake of her head, she said, “No, but you haven’t given me any reason why you’re going to stay, either.”
The clock ticked in the background, marking out the fading of time. It felt suddenly more like the fading of what they’d had. She could almost see it receding into the distance. “Are you going to stay, Brodie? Live in Autumn Falls? In your condo? Here with your family—your dad—right here?” She pointed to the table like it marked the whole town itself.
It was Brodie’s turn to be silent. To let the clock tick on.
Maeve smiled weakly, however much she’d expected it, still crushed by foolish disappointment. “There’s your reason, Brodie.”
ChapterThirty-Six
Noah’s house was three-quarters built. Noah liked to do everything perfectly, and do it all himself—with Ren’s help, of course—so it took longer than it might most people who’d bring in tradespeople. The house was situated by the side of Halfmoon Lake where the brothers used to camp as kids; building dens, sparring, fishing, making fires. It was on the opposite side of the land to the main ranch house and sat underneath the towering pines of the forest and the shadow of Starlight Mountain.
Brodie was quite jealous of the peace. As he sat on a plastic lawn chair on the grass out the front, he gazed up at the peak of the mountain, thought about the many treks they’d made up those craggy rocks, backpacks on, sandwiches in plastic wrap, trudging on with the purpose of getting as high as they could. There was that word again: purpose.
Brodie sat back, hands behind his head and stared at the shadows of clouds drifting over the mountain.
Noah came out with two Dr Peppers and sat in a lawn chair next to him. It was new and cheap and creaked when he sat down, like it might break under the weight.
Noah and Ren hadn’t bought proper outdoor furniture yet, they had barely bought anything for inside, the place was still all ladders and workbenches and sawdust. But it was getting there. When it was done, Brodie could see it would be awesome. It was all very Noah. Nothing too big or flashy but precisely made and exacting. The timber cladding was black and cleverly insulated, the roof was lined with solar panels, the wraparound deck had been angled so that each room got the sun at the right time of day. It was impressive.
As Noah handed Brodie a soda, Ren came out with a pot of paint in her hand. Zoey followed behind her, in coveralls rolled up at the sleeves and ankles, brandishing a paintbrush.
When Ren had opened the door to Brodie earlier she’d taken one look and said, “Oh, dear.” While Zoey had walked inside poking her nose into various half-built rooms exclaiming how fun the place was, he’d checked himself out in the mirror and said, “What? I don’t look that bad, do I?”
Ren stuck out her bottom lip in pity and said, “You look like a sad puppy, Brodie.”
He’d laughed it off, but she’d ushered him outside, telling Noah to stop working and go talk to his brother while she taught Zoey how to paint. Now she was leaving them to it, while she and Zoey got to work on the window frames. They looked cute together, both in matching bandanas to protect their hair from paint, with their brushes in their hands.
“So, what’s going on?” Noah asked, taking a long gulp of his drink. He’d been working on the house since finishing for the day at the ranch and his clothes were all sweaty, his face smeared with dust.
Brodie sat forward, hands clasped around his can, and said, “I don’t know.” Then he proceeded to fill him in on what had happened the previous day, what had been said.
He’d spent the day with Zoey, trying not to think too much about the earlier conversation with Maeve. He kept seeing her face when she said, “There’s your reason.” Big eyes full of disappointment. She thought she was a closed book, didn’t have any idea how visible her emotions were—something he both adored and couldn’t bear. It wracked him with an unfamiliar guilt, played on his ingrained desire for no-strings, carefree attachment. He didn’t suit family life, relationships, commitment. He liked to move on at will, not be tied down. He itched for new adventure. Or he always had.
He had taken Zoey to play basketball, had lunch, gone to the diner, for a milkshake—if there was a reporter there, he hadn’t seen them. A couple of people had snapped covert pictures on their phones, and when that happened, he tended to smile and wave and encourage them to come over and take a proper one. He’d chat for a little while, pose with them—if they liked him, they were less likely to try and take photos on the sly. And he liked people, liked talking to them, smiling with them, he didn’t see much of a problem with having his picture taken, but he didn’tneedit, didn’t crave it, like Maeve had accused him of. He was almost glad for feeling a sense of injustice at some of the things she’d said—accusing him of wanting the media attention, and then there was the lie… the advice she’d given him about her parents—it allowed him to take the high ground, nurse the feeling of being wronged, rather than dwell too long on what else had been said about his future in Autumn Falls. But it was still there, sitting in his stomach, making him confused and uncharacteristically on edge, which in turn had led him here—to Noah’s house.
“Areyou staying?” Noah asked.
“I don’t know!”
His brother shook his head, the movement made his jaw-length hair fall forward and he pushed it back with hishand, holding it there for a second as he looked at Brodie despairingly and said, “You’re real annoying, you know that?”
Brodie sat back, throwing his arms wide, defensively. “I can’t say if I’m going to stay or not.”
Ren walked over to where they were sitting and said, “Noah, have you got the measuring tape?”
He dug in his pocket to get it, while saying to Brodie, “I don’t see why not.”
