AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Is it true? It can’t be. My family property is everything to me. I love my home.
But the business . . . my heart has never been in the manual labor and transactional duties involved.
I never went to college. I barely went to high school, attending just enough to graduate, since most of my time was spent training and competing.
Dad paid a lot of money for choreographers and coaches, something I didn’t quite realize until I took over the business and got a look at the finances.
On top of that, Jacob will never leave, not for anything, and he needs me.
But what if I’m making excuses? What if I can’t give it up because I’ve been focused on it for so long that I can’t even remember what it’s like to make decisions for myself?
What if throwing myself into saving the cabins is my own form of escape? Something I can control, since I can’t control so many things. It’s not much of an escape though; it’s more of a duty. It’s like if I keep our home alive, then I’m keeping Aria alive too. At least her memory. And maybe our family will come together again, someday, if only we still have our home.
Archer has been quiet for a few minutes, letting me fester in my thoughts.
But now he asks gently, “Do you even want to do it anymore?”
I grip the armrest. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
“Of course it matters. It matters most.”
I stare out the window at the passing scenery, not wanting to examine my own thoughts. Not now, not ever. I tilt my head to observe Archer as he passes a semi-truck.
All the questions that were tumbling through my head last night, after he left me in the hallway when he made his pronouncement, reappear.No one, he said. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it. I shouldn’t want to know anything about him. I don’t want to find him so intriguing, and I shouldn’t care. But I can’t help it.
“How did you meet Oliver?”
He tosses me a quick glance before answering. “We met when we were kids.”
“School?”
“Summer camp.”
I take that piece of information and slide it into place with the rest of the puzzle that is Archer Weston, and something clicks. “Wait. You met at a summer camp, and he wants to turn Fox Cottages into a camp for disadvantaged kids . . . Is that how you met?”
He nods. “Yes. At Camp Velveteen in New Hampshire. We were bunkmates, and he hated me at first.” His smile is wry. “He even tried to fight me a couple of times.”
My brows lift. “Really?”
He chuckles. “He was a scrawny little thing, and I’ve never been small. It wasn’t much of a fight. I didn’t hurt him too much though.”
“How did you become friends then?”
He doesn’t answer for a few long seconds.
“Sorry. Too personal.” I wince. “You don’t have to tell me.”
“It’s not that.” His hand shifts on the steering wheel. “Well, it’s partly that. Some of it is more personal for Oliver than me, and it’s kind of a long story.”
“Short version?”
He considers his answer before speaking. “We had to band together against some rougher boys.”
“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”
“Something like that.”
Curiosity prods me. I want to know more, more about why he was there—what was Archer’s childhood like? What about his family, his parents?
