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“You’re always the smartest person in the room. You have your shit together, and you kick ass at your job. I like that about you.”
His eyes twinkled with his grin, and my heart gave another tricky beat. “You kick ass too,” I returned with a firm nod.
“I don’t recall kicking any asses lately,” he lobbed right back at me.
“You do, and you know it.”
His gaze sobered a little, and he shrugged. “Maybe.”
I nudged one of my knees against his. “You do. I know you don’t always believe it, but you do. You play it off like you’re not the smartest in the family. Maybe Adam’s a genius with numbers, but you’re just as smart as he is. You’re also flexible. That’s why you’re a fixer.”
“You make it sound like I’m in the mob,” he teased
I rolled my eyes. “You know what I mean.”
ChapterSeventeen
KENAN
You know what I mean.
Quinn’s words repeated in my thoughts. Reminding me, yet again, why she was such a good friend. It wasn’t as if I contemplated it often, but I knew she respected me. I knew she didn’t dismiss me. Not that I thought others did. But somehow, I tended to feel as if I slipped unnoticed between the cracks in my family.
I loved being a part of a big family because you never felt alone, yet our family could be defining. I would never complain about the privilege I had. We were financially very comfortable. Even though I could tell myself it was because our family worked hard, which was true, it was still a privilege, and there were a few strokes of luck to it. Our world tended to forget that detail. Oh sure, people did work hard, but timing and opportunity didn’t always strike. Those factors had worked out for our family.
While I loved being a part of a messy bunch of siblings, we carried our own share of trauma and skeletons in the closet, some of them more public than others. My mind spun to our grandfather, who had recently been sentenced for embezzlement.
He was old enough that it would hurt for him to spend time in jail. But it was nothing compared to the crimes he should be paying for, the emotional abuse, the verbal abuse, the casual slaps against some of us, and the sexual abuse of our oldest brother, who’d likely drank himself to death as a result of that trauma.
Jake had chased after the numbness of losing himself in a haze of alcohol. It was a bitter twist, knowing that our family’s initial fortune had been built from the winery and brewery, which we still ran and still made lots of money from. Fireweed Brewery was a high-end beer and wine business. Our grandfather had invested the initial rush of earnings wisely, creating the massive business we now owned.
I gave my head a shake. I didn’t need to be contemplating my family. It was part of my identity, and I was the brother who had the least defined role, the one called upon to do the odds and ends jobs. Just a few weeks ago, Blake had called me in a panic because of an equipment failure in the production area. The main brewer was out for the day, so I had shown up and helped him get it fixed. He was pretty hands-on, but I was even more handy than he was.
Blake was leaning hard on our brother Wyatt to come take over as the main brewer. Our current one had plans to move to Juneau with his pregnant wife. We had a smaller location there, and the guy would keep a job with us, but Blake needed someone in Fireweed Harbor. I didn’t particularly want that job, but it smarted that he didn’t even think to ask me.
Quinn’s faith in me was just there. We had slipped so easily into deepening our friendship. It wasn’t that we weren’t friends growing up. I’d known her, of course. Our families were close, and we’d been friendly. But it wasn’t until we had both left town and returned after college that our connection strengthened. I felt like myself with her in a way I didn’t with others.
I stepped out of the shower in the small ferry cabin. The ferries were nice in Alaska, but the cabins were utilitarian. The two bunks tucked into the side of the narrow space had just enough room for a small counter with a tiny refrigerator beside it and a microwave. A narrow nook for luggage was across from a tiny bathroom with a sink, a toilet, and a stand-up shower.
I eyed myself in the mirror, running my palm over my cheek as I contemplated whether to shave. Sometimes I grew a trimmed beard during the winter.
I shrugged, deciding against it. It was just a five o’clock shadow. I would shave tomorrow morning before we landed in Whittier for the drive to Willow Brook.
As I dressed, anticipation buzzed through me. Although I very much wanted Quinn, I was doubting how I’d thrown a challenge out to her about deciding what she wanted by tonight.
I never wanted to back down from a dare, and I wanted Quinn with a ferocity that shocked me.
You’ve already made it complicated, and you can’t undo it.
I kept telling myself I could handle this. Yet my heart started to want something I’d never contemplated. Even though my two older brothers had defied the odds and fallen in love, I just didn’t think it was for me. It was messy and complicated. My self-doubt ran deep. Maybe I couldn’t be enough for anyone.
I forcefully kicked those thoughts to the curb and tucked the key to my room in my pocket. A moment later, I stopped by the door immediately beside mine and knocked lightly.
It opened instantly, and Quinn smiled up at me. “Ready?” I asked.
“I opened the door,” she replied dryly.
I took a quick breath as she stepped out. Her hair was down, and I wanted to slide my hand into it and kiss her. Right here, right now.
