5
Winnie
He’s gone when I head out for groceries and, more importantly, wine. But he’s back when I come home an hour later, with aching feet, sore arms and sweating like a stuck pig. I realized a few things on my walk to Super Shop and Save. First, I’m going to need a car if I’m staying. Second, I’m not going to be able to get rid of him. Which means I’m going to have to tell my family what I’m doing. I just hope I can wait long enough to figure it out myself.
I have no idea why I came back here. It’s not going to help. Nothing is going to help, but I figured at least here, I would be alone. And everything—I mean every single thing—about this place reminds me of my dad. When I woke up this morning, to the sound of Kidd’s truck hauling Holden’s trailer, for a brief second I forgot what happened. I thought I was here with the family—all of them, including Dad. But then I remembered. And then I had to deal with Holden.
I’m furious at my brother, which isn’t fair, but I can’t seem to shake the anger. He’s doing a good thing, renovating this place, but I just want to be alone here. I want peace and quiet. But Jude wants to honor Dad by creating the cottage he always dreamed of. I feel tears welling up in my eyes and try desperately to ignore them as I approach the cottage. Holden’s sprawled out in a lawn chair under the awning he’s opened on the side of his Airstream.
He’s shirtless, and I can’t help but stare. Holden Hendricks, who started out as a good-looking boy, turned into one hell of a specimen of a man. When he was a kid, he was athletic and fairly muscular from playing hockey. But now…well, now his muscles have muscles. He’s broad shouldered, with smattering of hair across his well-developed pecs and both his ample biceps are covered in tattoos. The tat on his left arm that I saw peeking out from his shirt on the bus the other night is an octopus, and his right biceps has a bunch of intricate images twisted together—a ship’s wheel, an anchor, a nautical compass and words I can’t catch without staring much longer than I should.
“See something you like?” he asks and it startles me back to reality. This man may look pretty on the outside but he’s not on the inside. I will never forget that.
“Definitely not,” I reply and turn to climb the stairs to the cottage.
“I need to do a walk-through,” I hear him say behind me and turn to find him at the bottom of the stairs I’m halfway up. His abs look like they’re cut from marble. And his well-worn jeans are so low on his hips I can see the waistband of his underwear.
“Why?”
“So I can get a feel for where to start tomorrow,” he explains.
“You’re starting tomorrow?” I repeat, stunned and annoyed. “Why so soon?”
“Because it’s my job,” he reminds me. “I promised Jude it would be ready in six to eight weeks, and I have other gigs lined up afterward.”
“And you just have to start tomorrow or you can’t make it?” I question and try not to sound as annoyed as I am. Again, Holden might be a dick, but he is just doing his job. It’s not just the fact he’s here that annoys me, it’s the fact that anyone is here—in my space. I came back here to be alone and grieve without an audience. Now I not only have an audience, it’s a childhood nemesis who used to make me feel like a loser on my best days…and I’m nowhere near my best days right now. “I was hoping to have a week before you started.”
“I was hoping there wouldn’t be a squatter on the property, but we don’t always get what we want,” Holden replies with a small shrug of those incredible shoulders. “You get today. Rest up. I work early and I work late.”
“Well, I’m not even getting today if you need to bother me with a fucking walk-through,” I snap.
He raises his eyebrows. “You have an inordinate amount of anger. Your boyfriend not giving it to you regularly?”
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me. You need to get laid to get rid of all that anger.”
“Sex doesn’t fix things.”
“Well, sweetheart, you should really try something because being that infuriated all the time isn’t going to do you any favors.” He gives me a wide, snarky smile. “Trust me I know. And if you’re trying to give me a taste of my own medicine, it worked. You are on my last nerve right now.”
“You haven’t changed at all.”
“I have, but damn you seem hell-bent on bringing out the old me,” he says and heaves a frustrated sigh. “Winnie…we’re getting off on the wrong foot.”
“We’ve been on the wrong foot for years. There’s no right foot for us.” I swing open the door to the screened-in porch. I can hear him climbing the stairs and as much as I want to stop him I won’t. I put the key in the lock for the oak door and glance at him over my shoulder. “Please be done by the time I finish unpacking my groceries.”
I swing open the front door and he steps in behind me, then walks past me, his head turns to glance into the grocery bag I’m carrying. “Not sure I can get everything done in the time it takes to unpack some junk food and wine.”
“Yeah you’re a dick,” I retort and stomp off to the kitchen before he can reply. I start to unpack my groceries, which include blueberries, yogurt, bread and four frozen dinners on top of the two bags of Humpty Dumpty potato chips and three bottles of pinot grigio that jackass noticed when he snuck a peak. I can hear him walking around. I walk into the dining room to put the wine bottles in the wine rack under the window and can’t stop myself from glancing his way. He’s crouched down in the bathroom measuring the width of the room with a tape measure he must have had in his pocket. Then he types the measurements into his phone.
He looks up and notices the Plexiglas box on the rickety shelf above the toilet and his eyes grow two sizes bigger. He looks at me and back at the trophy. “Is that a fucking Stanley Cup ring?”
“Yeah. Jude’s first,” I explain. “He gave it to my dad. Dad used to keep it here. It was a prized possession in his favorite place.”
“In the shitter?” Holden is both stunned and horrified as he rises to his feet and leans forward to admire it.
“He kept it on his dresser, where he could see it first thing in the morning and last thing at night,” I say and I almost smile as I explain the rest. “But Sadie, Dixie and I always move it to the bathroom. At first, Jude actually thought Dad kept it there, but then he realized it was our way of keeping him humble. Reminding him rings and trophies mean shit to us. He still has to be a good person.”
