I guess a part of me always believed if I landed a top job, I’ll finally be enough. I’ll make enough money and have enough stability to not be considered a joke anymore. That I’d make my parents proud the way Lindsey always does.
When really, I wasn’t a joke all along. I was just a woman working toward what her heart told her would make her happy.
I still am that woman. And I’m proud of myself for following my heart, even if most people don’t understand it.
But Samuel does understand. He appreciates it too. And that, more than anything else, is real and right.
“Just think on it, okay?” she asks. “I wouldn’t be a good sister if I let you just walk away from something that’s clearly so special. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in Samuel to make things right with Hank. Y’all know what you need to do. It’s just a matter of whether you have the courage to do it.” She gives me a tight smile, then whispers, “Spoiler alert, I think you do.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
Samuel
I open the door to find Hank and Milly on my doorstep.
“I’m here to mediate,” she explains before I can politely but firmly ask her to leave. She holds up a silver flask, monogrammed with her initials. “I also brought celebratory whiskey for when y’all make up. Which is going to happen.”
I roll my eyes and step aside to let them in. “Are you here to mediate or meddle?”
“Both.” She offers me a shit-eating grin. “You’re welcome.”
I catch Hank’s gaze as he moves over the threshold. He looks as tired and anxious as I feel. I haven’t slept much, and I’ve eaten even less.
Can’t remember the last time I felt this bad. Actually, I can, and I do not want to go there.
My first impulse is to stoke the anger churning in my gut. Anger toughens my outer shell. It’s armor that keeps me safe from scarier feelings, like sadness and pain.
But isn’t armor ultimately bullshit? It can’t protect me from myself. It certainly can’t protect me from the fallout of breaking my family apart by not letting my brother in.
The idea that I can choose to set my armor aside makes me feel soft and strong and scared.
I think about what Emma said the day after Sunday supper. Your family is great. I’d kill to have that kind of relationship with mine. You know that’s rare, right?
I know Hank and I aren’t going to forgive each other right away. But I guess we gotta start somewhere. I hate Milly for taking the first step, but I’m also grateful she’s forcing our hand.
“Screened-in porch,” I say, pointing toward the back of the house. “I got the fire goin’.”
I let Milly have the chair closest to the fire. It’s definitely springtime here on Blue Mountain, but it’s still a little chilly in the shade. Hank and I take opposite ends of the sofa across from her. For a second, no one says anything, and my chest tightens.
If I can’t make this better, I really will have lost it all. My girl, my brother. My job.
Again, my instinct is to let anger win out. I’m no saint, I own that, but Hank definitely committed the greater sin. He should be the one to start the conversation.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he stares into the fire, his hand on the ankle resting on his knee.
Milly clears her throat. “Okay then. We’re gonna do this in reverse and start with the drinks. Maybe that’ll get y’all talking.”
She unscrews the cap and tips back the flask. In true Milly style, she doesn’t so much as blink at the bite of the whiskey. I smile. My sister may be the South’s preeminent wedding planner, but she’s a country girl at heart. She can drink even the biggest of us under the table, no problem.
“Thanks.” I swirl the whiskey around in my mouth before swallowing. Hickory chips, hint of cinnamon. “That Appalachian Red?”
“Of course it is,” Hank says, taking the flask from me. “Milly and Nate Kingsley are thick as thieves these days.”
Nate Kingsley owns Asheville’s famous distillery down the road. Our families had a beef in the past—as in a whole feud Kevin Costner may or may not have made a TV series about—but I guess Milly’s spearheading the effort to patch things up now.
“Thick enough that he’s giving you thousand-dollar bottles of whiskey to sip on?”
Milly just shrugs. “Once you taste the good stuff, you can’t go back.”
I watch Hank take a swig, then another. Screwing the cap back onto the flask, he looks at me and says, “I did want to hurt you, Samuel. I wanted you to feel what I’d been feeling since Emma arrived on the farm. It’s fucked up, but it’s how I felt. I never intended to catch feelings for her. I just wanted to help her out at first.”
“But you did intend to kiss her.”
He winces. “I did. Not my proudest moment.” The hand on his ankle balls into a fist. His voice is hoarse when he speaks again. “I regret it. Deeply. I know you’re struggling to forgive me, but trust me when I say I’m struggling harder to forgive myself. I got lost in the moment. I was desperate and sad. On top of that, I’ve been feeling kinda…lost lately. Like I’m bored or something.”
My heart contracts. How did I not see that? Was I too wrapped up in my own shit?
Thinking back, I can see the signs. But I didn’t say anything. I just assumed everything was okay.
No one said anything, and now we’re in a huge fucking mess because of it.
“I’m sorry you’ve felt lost,” I reply. “And I’m sorry I wasn’t looking out for you the way I should’ve been. That’s a huge failure on my part.”
From the corner of my eye, I catch Milly nodding. “I’m sorry too. Hank, why didn’t you say anything?”
Hank shrugs. “I wanted to figure it out on my own. Everyone’s got such full plates around here. Beau got his diagnosis, then Annabel came up to the farm with Maisie, and we all know what happened there. And Milly, you always have your weddings, and Samuel…well. Needless to say, I didn’t want to bother anyone. So I muscled through the best I could. I had no way of knowing it would lead to this.” His eyes are pleading. “If I did, I would’ve done it all differently, Samuel. I swear it.”
“I believe you. I’ll do better going forward.”
“I appreciate that. I will too.”
“Me three,” Milly says with a frown. “Sounds like we all have work to do.”
Hank swallows, an audible sound. “Me most of all. I know I need to move on. From Emma, I mean. But it’s hard when I’m still in love with her.”
I bite the inside of my cheek. “You are?”
“I am.” He finally meets my eyes. “I know it’s not what you wanna hear, but it’s the truth. We need to be done lyin’ to each other, Samuel.”
Swallowing, I hold out my hand for the flask. I take another sip, welcoming the fire that trails down my throat. “I agree with that. No more lies. You told your truth, now I’m gonna tell you mine. I love you, brother, more than anything in this world. I want to see you happy. I want to see this family and this resort thrive. We’ve dedicated our lives to each other, and that trust—it’s gotta be real, and it’s gotta mean something. But right now, I don’t trust you. I don’t trust myself around you. And I think the only thing that’s gonna make that better is time.”