AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Though outwardly he gave her a calm nod, inwardly his stomach clenched. It was too soon. They’d made him think there was time before he’d have to assume the reins along with Cory, and from her expression, there clearly wasn’t.
If their retirement was progressing faster than Dillon had assumed while he’d been up to his elbows in copper pipes and linoleum, that meant Cory had to be drowning in paperwork. Not that he’d complain or ask for help. He’d seethe. His older brother was an expert at that.
When she gripped her hands together, his petty concerns fell away. “Is everything okay?”
“Yes. Yes,” she repeated as he edged forward on his seat. “Everything’s fine. Dad’s asthma is a bit worse than it was.”
“Is he all right? He never said anything—”
“He’s fine,” she soothed, giving him a reassuring smile. “But since we’re looking at retirement anyway, his doctor recommended we try a different climate. Dry air would help his condition, we’re told, so we’re considering a move.”
“To where?”
“A few places are on the list. Scottsdale’s leading it.”
“Scottsdale, Arizona?” Across the country? “What about the house?” And his mom’s horse, and the acreage, and… Christ, a clusterfuck of a headache was about to pound through his left eye.
“Yes, Arizona. If we decide to move, we’ll be putting the house up for sale, unless one of you boys wants it.”
Dillon snorted. “Cory lives in the biggest penthouse in Haven. You honestly think he’d give a rat’s ass about tending some chickens and a horse? He’ll sell Misty before you’re on the plane.” The sadness he glimpsed in her eyes shut him up, and fast.
“Cory knows his duty,” she said quietly.
Alexa flashed into his mind. Her smile. Her brief laugh. Especially her weary blue eyes. Did Cory’s duty include antagonizing dedicated small-business owners struggling to stay afloat?
And if so, he’d be shouldering that duty alone, because Dillon would have no part.
“Yeah, and I don’t.” He worked his jaw as he stared out the window beside her desk, noting the mocking cluster of smiley-face balloons by the welcome sign out front. Everyone was welcome at Value Hardware. His family had embraced the community, and in turn the community had embraced them.
“You’re not like your brother, and your dad and I understand that. You’ve always wanted to do your own thing. That’s why you kept Tommy’s name when your brother took Raymond’s. You never—”
“That’s not why.”
“No?” She appeared genuinely curious.
“No. I didn’t want Tommy to think we were both abandoning him.” Saying it aloud, knowing it was sterling truth, made him grind his teeth.
It figured he’d effectively excluded himself from his family to try to show solidarity with a man who thought being a dad meant visiting once a year on birthdays and giving his boys magazine subscriptions for Christmas—Cory got Sports Illustrated; Dillon got Popular Mechanics.
His mother sighed and rubbed her temple. Maybe he’d somehow telepathically shared his headache. “You’re a good boy, Dill. You always have been. You’ve also always been incredibly stubborn.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you.” With her smile, the thread of tension in the room eased. “You’re a rebel, baby, with the motorcycle to prove it. And the tattoos. Don’t you remember when you came home with that tribal thing on your arm and tried to convince me it was the greatest thing ever?” She shook her head, still smiling fondly. “Wings so you’d never be stuck in any one place.”
“I remember.” As a teenager, he’d chosen tattoos he probably wouldn’t now. But those markers on his body were permanent reminders of who he’d been—and who he wanted to be.
She reached out to straighten one of the family photos scattered across her desk. The one she touched was of Dillon and Cory as kids, standing in front of the paddock behind their family house. Arms around each other’s shoulders, grins as wide as the sky.
It had been years since they’d been that close. There had been a time in high school when they’d even talked about going to the same college, but that had disappeared after the differences growing roots between them had choked most of the friendship out of their relationship. Eventually Dillon had headed to NYU to study business with a focus on corporate social responsibility, and Cory had gotten an MBA from Wharton.
His idea of heaven was several hours on his bike, winding through the Pennsylvania mountainside with no agenda. Or venturing to the roof of the Rison to look out over the city and think. Not making plans to take over the world and glad-handing like Cory. Not sitting down for cozy fireside chats like his parents. Helping others—through his charity work, or hell, even when he assisted a customer at the store—made him happy, but when the world got to be too much, he escaped with his fishing pole to the lake. He wasn’t lonely, most of the time. The absence of people meant no expectations. And no chance of not meeting them.
When the silence stretched, she sighed. “Sweetie, Cory’s Cory and you’re you. Your dad and I love you, just the way you are.” She rose and came around the desk, then cupped his cheek in her hand. “Fighting to show ev
eryone what you’re not isn’t going to prove your worth. Only you can do that.” Her smile was indulgent. “Someday you’ll realize.”
When he rose, she enfolded him in a healing hug, saturating him in her comforting rosewater and vanilla scent.
