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I don’t let myself think too long about why the idea of a friend or client catching her there, seeing her exposed like that, got me up in arms, got my blood burning.
It’s just a safety issue.A safety issue she isclearlyignoring.
That is all,I tell myself as I jog down the stairs and unlock the door that leads to the back room of my shop.
This place was once a pipe dream, something that only came to mind when I daydreamed, drawing designs in the margins of my notes for the business administration class I took. And yet somehow, it defied all laws of science, becoming a reality.
I wave at Hattie, who is already getting her station sanitized and organized before clients roll in, and I’m about to do the same when my phone rings.
The screen shows the name of my younger brother, Tanner.
Shit.
I don’t want to do this right now. I have had enough strange and uncharacteristic thoughts and feelings already today. I don’t need to add talking with my brother, who, in the eyes of my family, did what I wassupposedto have done all those years ago.
It also doesn’t help that I know why he’s calling. I groan, looking at the ceiling before swiping and putting the phone to my ear.
“Brother,” I say, leaning my back against the wall and looking down at my boots.
Despite not following the family profession, it seems blue-collar runs through my veins because unless I’m running or attending the yearly charity auction, you won’t find me in anything but old, beat-up work boots.
“Ben. I’m shocked you answered,” my brother says with a laugh. Two years ago, that sound would have been uncharacteristic. Now, with a good woman by his side and the family business finally making money, he sounds free. My hand moves to my hair, combing through as I laugh at his calling me out.
“Super busy. Don’t take it personally.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Remember that Hattie and Jordan are friends now. Hattie loves to report on your very empty personal schedule,” he says with a laugh.
My coworker and best friend, Hattie Jones, is a pain in my ass, making friends with literally everyone she meets, despite her occasionally scary appearance and always scary excited personality. The last time Tanner and his girl Jordan were down in Ocean View, Hattie made a new best friend.
Apparently, they chat.
“Fuckin’ Hattie,” I say.
“You know why I’m calling.” I sigh.
“Yeah, I know.” I move toward the backroom, sitting down at the break table and grabbing a sharpie I keep there, doodling to distract myself. “I don’t think I can make it,” I tell my brother, juggling the device between my shoulder and ear while I draw a bow on the table in a blank spot.
“Come on, man, are you kidding me?”
“Shit’s busy here. I can’t just head home for the weekend whenever you make some crazy plan.”
“It’s not some crazy plan—it’s Mom’s 60th birthday. And it’s in two months. Plenty of time to plan ahead, block off the weekend.” He’s not wrong. I could—I’m typically booked out for six weeks, with more appointments scattered in there through six months. I could move things around, and it wouldn’t be too much of a problem. “Fuck, even just the day. The drive isn’t that long.”
I just don’twantto head back to my hometown, and the shop is the perfect excuse.
“It’s not that easy, Tanner. We’ve got a lot going on over here. Summer is peak season. The boardwalk is packed. I can’t just close for a weekend; that’s not how businesses work.”
“That’s exactly how businesses work when you own them, Ben. You and I both know that.” The knife in my gut turns. We both know that because years ago, I ran out on my family responsibility of running Coleman Construction and never looked back, leaving my younger brother to pick up the slack of the failing business and turn it around.
I don’t go to Springbrook Hills for that reason. The reminder that I followed my heart instead of my mind, that I left Tanner to that . . . It’s too much.
“I don’t see you enough, Ben. Shit’s changing. We’re all getting older.” I sigh. “I want you to get to know Jordan.” Again, the knife turns. Somehow, although Tanner spent ten years breaking his back to fix the family business, sacrificing his own dreams and ambitions to make it happen, he found the perfect woman. One he treats like a total fuckin’ princess, but who also won’t take his shit.
Jordan is perfect for Tanner in every way, and I hate that they’re so far from me so I can’t get to know her better. Sure, they come down for a night or two, but it’s not the same.
And I have successfully avoided Springbrook Hills and the threat of facing my father in his own home since I left for art school.
“You guys come down here for a weekend, and bring Mom and Dad. I’ll put you all in a hotel, do the beach thing. It’ll be fun.” That’s usually the best solution. It makes Mom happy to be down the shore, and my dad won’t bring up shit that’s dead and buried for fear of upsetting Mom. I can also avoid any conversations I don’t want to have by heading back to my place or faking an appointment.
