With my knuckles curled, I bump his arm. “It’s okay. Say nothing. You’re doing far better at taking the news than Summer did. And I’m too hyped up on adrenaline to even contemplate how this day is going.”
“Cookie?” Stuart asks as he holds up a basket, oblivious to the tone of our conversation. I forgot he was in earshot.
“Not the time, Stuart.” But they are great chocolate chip cookies that guests get at arrival and departure, even at turndown service. I reach over. “You know what, give me a cookie.” I slant a shoulder up. “For the road,” I justify.
“Damn, that’s a little crazy,” Holden finally comments.
I take a bite of the sweet goodness. “I know, right? My brother conspires even from beyond. Kind of never thought he had it in him, but alright, on this ride I shall go. I’m sure Summer and I can keep enough distance between us. We’ll just get into a routine, honor my brother, ignore our past, pretend all is well,” I list with a full mouth, treating this moment far too casually because that’s how I’m adjusting to shock.
“I don’t even know the background of…” His eyes swim side to side. “Doesn’t she kind of hate you?”
My lips roll into my mouth, and I tip my head to the side in contemplation. “Probably.” Because there are no labels when it comes to my history with Summer, everyone just assumes we dislike one another.
Holden looks relieved with my answer. “Anything I can do?”
I shake my head. “Nah.” I hold up my cookie. “Just save me when the shock wears off,” I plead.
“You got it,” he says as I brush past him.
But then I stall when I get a few steps further and pivot on the balls of my feet.
“Hey, Holden.” I’m not sure I want to hear the answer of what I’m about to ask. He stares at me, waiting. “Summer… how has she been holding up?”
He scratches his chin. “Oh, I guess she’s doing better than we would all expect. Keeps herself busy. Focuses on Bo. You know… she’s been eager to move her life forward.” His shoulder raises then drops. “I’m not sure if it’s a cover or not, nor do I have any idea what it’s like for her when she heads home. But here at the inn, she manages to smile.”
Relief hits me. I’m not sure I could handle another answer. I’ve always stayed away to save us all, and if I were to blow back into town needing to rescue Summer, then I’m not sure I would have it in me to keep things on a neutral level with her.
“Thanks. Well… I, uh… I should go.”
His eyes seem to study me, and he nods once. If it’s understanding that he is offering, then I’ll take it.
Knocking on the door,I’m still wondering why I’m standing here about to embark on a request from my brother.
The door opens, and Summer’s scowl greets me, but for a few ticks our eyes hold in silence.
“I’m here. Can I come in?”
She steps to the side and holds the door open. “Surprised you asked since this is now your home, too.” Zero enthusiasm seeped through those words.
I mosey past her, and already I’m observing the setting as we walk into the living area. Examining the room, it’s cozyand airy. The wood of the shelves is painted white, and the floors are a light pine shade. A contrast to the dark pines surrounding the house as seen through the double doors in the living room.
“And here we are. Nash knocking on our door and waltzing on in to uproot our lives.”
“That’s what you think. I’ll always be the villain in your book.” I give her a steely stare.
Rage brews inside of her, and I see her face etched in annoyance. “It’s because this request is near insanity. When I got married, you sent a damn waffle maker with a note.”
“It’s a classic wedding gift,” I defend coolly.
She’s not amused. “When Bo was born, you sent a stuffed proboscis monkey and a note. Who the hell sends the ugliest freakiest choice when a normal monkey should have sufficed.”
I shrug, and I’m doing my best to shove down a smirk. “It’s different.”
“And now you want to upgrade to moving in? I’m surprised you didn’t just drop a note with one sentence through the mailbox to inform me. It’s more your style,” she says dryly.
Feisty Summer. It doesn’t happen often, except when she’s around me.
I don’t answer, instead pinching the bridge of my nose and bowing my head down.
