I give her a smirk and nod. “Negative focus, I knew it.” She flips it back into her deck and starts shuffling.
It’s the one card in the tarot that feels the most ominous at first glance. It’s riddled with negativity, but it’s the card that reminds the person who turned it to hunt for the silver lining.
“Ignore me, Wyn,” she says as she shakes her head and shuffles. Her bracelets clang as she does it. I love that sound.“Send in the short blondie wearing the blue dress,” she adds.
I move around to her side of the small coffee table and kiss her on the cheek. Rosemary and citrus mingle in the air and on her skin. “Love you.”
Her fingertips brush down my forehead and over my eyelids as I shut them. A simple gesture she’s done to my sisters and me since we were little. I take a deep breath, grateful for moments with her.
There have been times in my life when I knew whatever I chose next would change the direction I was heading, like a forked path that I was forced to go left or right. I know, as I walk down the spiral stairs and tell the blond in the blue dress to go talk to my grandmother, that I want to know all of it. Everything I’ve missed about being a Crowne. The things I’ve been too jaded to embrace.
I’m done with being in the dark.
Chapter Nine
Julian
“How’d you sleep?”Tommy asks as I come down the back stairs and into the kitchen. I’m not used to anyone asking.
“Great,” I lie. I was exhausted, but it took me forever to fall asleep. I kept running through the details of last night's dinner, the side conversations happening without words, and how the hell I’m going to convince Wyn that she can trust me. I watched her sleep for so damn long in that solarium, anxious about what would happen when she woke up.Fuck, this situation is complicated.
Moving around the stark white kitchen, it’s bright and a far better morning than waking up tied to a chair. Its stainless-steel appliances reflect the morning light coming in from thewindows. It’s polar opposite from Birdie’s place. “May I?” I point toward the coffee pot. He gives me a nod.
The Rackhouse Bed-and-Breakfast is as simple as it comes. Upon first look, I might guess the owner is meticulous, maybe leaning into clean and modern, but after walking through the space, it’s more like Tommy just didn’t have a plan for it. Most of the decor was white or navy, the fixtures seemed basic too, but the pictures that hung throughout were incredible. Old posters that had been repurposed and mimicked classically recognized art. I noted a few modern pieces in the stairwell and an intricately painted mural on the ceiling of the library when I had a look around last night.
“Uncle Tommy,” Nash yells as he comes rushing in from the side door. “Oh, hi, Julian.” He stops and waves, extending a fist for me to bump. Behind him is Stevie, who’s carrying a dino backpack and two grocery bags.
“Thanks so much,” Stevie says as she swipes away on her phone with her free hand. She does a double take at the cup I’m holding. “No, no, no.” Pulling a carafe of iced coffee from the refrigerator, she plops it in front of me. “If he made that, I wouldn’t drink it.”
“I heard that,” Tommy says, watching as Nash unloads his backpack with dinosaur figurines.
“Good,” she says, sending him a playful yet pointed look, making Tommy chuckle. “I made the cold brew. It’s safe and doesn’t taste like burnt paper. It’s good, I promise.”
“Not much of an iced coffee guy,” I tell her as I take a sip out of the hot mug. I try not to cringe at the way it does, in fact, taste like something burned at the bottom of the pot.
She sucks in a dramatic breath. “Do not let Wyn hear you say that; otherwise, whatever it is that’s going on between the two of you will be done,” she says sarcastically as she cracks a tray of ice and pours out a cup of her cold brew coffee.
“How does she take it?” I clear my throat before I add, “Wyn, and her iced coffee? What’s her preference?”
A big, wide smile takes over her face, and she lifts a hand to cover it. “I feel like I’m about to play an integral role in you sweeping her off her feet here.” She claps like this is exciting information, the level of excitement a bit aggressive for this early in the morning. “Okay, most of the time, she’ll do a splash of cream and three sugars. Sometimes four sugars. We’re Southern girls, we like to really crunch our sugar when we’re drinking. Same goes for sweet tea,” she says with a wink. “Anyway, if you can’t handle the cold brew and happen to wander into town, you might want to try Moonies. It’s one of our favorite spots.”
“Thank you.” I smile.
“There, right there, the interested questions and the smile.” She points and squints her eyes. “You’re charming. You went ahead and hopefully charmed her pants off.” She leans closer and whispers, “Don’t stop, keep going. She deserves a good one.”
I’m not sure I’d be considered a good one if Wyn’s sister knew what I was brought here to do, but in the short time I’ve been folded into this family, it’s felt good. I like to sit back and watch, observe people. It’s always challenging to get too close. The few friends I have know about my hand in my family cleaning business, the favors that are given and taken as payment, and the more public life I lead when designing jewelry. But I haven’t been to massive family dinners or folded into the nuances of people’s relationships like this. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like the idea of being a part of it. I understood why Wyn came back here when she could, I would have missed this too.
“Is that Nash I hear,” another voice says from behind us.
Nash runs toward him and yells out, “Sonny!”
When I turn, it’s the detective from dinner.
Fuck, I’m usually much better at knowing my surroundings.
Shoving through the double doors from the screened-in porch, Jameson takes off his aviators and crouches down with arms open to greet Nash.
If cops had poster boys, my guess isthatguy was one of them about twenty years ago.
