Page 20 of Hard to Hold

My long exhale stretches across the silence as I think of the two major clients I’ve lost over the past two months. Clients who I thought I had everything covered, but obviously dropped the ball somehow by not giving them what they needed. Clients I didn’t tell my sisters and Dad the whole story behind because it just painted me in a worse light than them leaving already did.

“So in a state of rebellion, you flew here to take whatever job it is you’ve been offered to prove it to yourself that you’re not that person.”

“Basically.” I shrug. “And to prove it to them too.”

“Have you ever thought maybe that’s what you’re hearing—that they don’t think you’re doing a good job—but it’s not what they actually think?”

And this is why I came here. Johnny always gets me on a level like no one else. He won’t push, but he’ll tell me straight every time and right now, I need that.

“Too many coincidences for me to think otherwise.”

“Says the woman who reads into everything,” he says while I glare at him. “Look, I hear what you’re saying, I understand why you feel the need to do whatever clandestine thing you’re apparently doing to prove your point, but know that so many of us love you because you’re the perfect mix of brains and beauty. Screw assholes like Sanderson who cause you to doubt yourself. We wouldn’t want you any other way.”

“Easier said than done when you’re the person escaping to your friend’s house instead of heading home, wondering if maybe they have a point and if maybe, you have in fact been resting on your laurels more than not lately.”

“The question is why are you resting on your laurels?”

I open my mouth and close it as I try to figure out the answer. Because I’m bored? Restless? Because, lately I’ve felt like there’s something more and I’m not quite sure what that more is yet? Maybe I just want to feel more independence—a little bit of me—instead of always being part of the Kincade family.

Not that anything is wrong with being a part of my family. We love each other madly (when we’re not bickering), but at the same time, my identity has never been anything but them. But the business.

But the beauty queen.

But the third daughter of four.

I lean my head onto the back of the chair and close my eyes for a moment. How do I put that into words for the person who’d love more than anything to be part of a family like mine?

Johnny Stance is the perfect example of parents throwing money at their son because they’re too busy building an empire and enjoying its riches to parent him themselves.

“Where’d you escape to?” Johnny asks.

“Nowhere. I’m here. I appreciate you letting me be.”

“You’re welcome to stay as long as you want. You know that.”

“Thanks,” I murmur and turn my head to the side where I can look into the house again. Rush leans over the counter with his forearms resting on it as he does something on a laptop. A pair of dark gray sweats with the Liverpool Football Club logo emblazoned on them hang low from his hips, and the green smoothie he made moments ago is half empty beside him.

“You’re looking again,” Johnny murmurs.

“Can you blame me?” I laugh. “I mean, Jesus. Look at him. He’s kind of perfect.”

“If you’re into broody assholes who every football player would kill to be and every woman would love to fuck.”

“Basically,” I say with a shrug and a laugh, as if it’s common sense.

“Like I said, Lenn, he doesn’t need you.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?” I ask, welcoming the change of topic and the playful tone that’s back in his voice.

“It means right now it seems he needs to be grounded . . . anchored. You don’t like to be attached, you like to have fun, and for him, fun is nothing but a media magnet. You like to rebel when you’re in this mood, and it seems he already has or he wouldn’t be here. Hell, it’s his middle name.” He ticks each point off on his fingers. “And you never shy away from what you shouldn’t be doing.”

“What I should be doing is him,” I murmur as Rush stretches his arms over his head causing his sweatpants to slip some.

“Jesus, Lennox. Really?”

I shrug and offer him a cat ate the canary grin. “Can’t fault me for being honest.”

CHAPTER SEVEN