Hold Me Like a Breath (14 page)

I wasn't sure. I wanted to, but I just wasn't sure. I'd opened and closed my mouth a half-dozen times, each one to give a
different answer, when Mother appeared through the french doors behind the library.

She had a tray of food and an indulgent expression as she looked at Garrett and me sitting together.

“I thought you might be hungry, so I fixed up a snack for before your CBC.” She set down the tray on a patio table: glasses of orange juice and bowls of chickpeas, raisins, almonds, and dates. She ruffled his hair affectionately, smiled at me.

“Thanks,” we said, but she didn't leave.

“How are you doing, Garrett?” Her eyes turned sad, her smile faded. “I keep meaning to make time to ask you that, and to tell you that if you ever want to talk, I'm here.”

“Thank you, ma'am.” Garrett ducked his head and resumed playing with the edge of my towel. I thought I heard him sniff.

“I know your father's not the most …” She reached out and stroked his hair again. “And your brothers—I know it can't be easy, that it couldn't have been easy growing up as much a part of
our
family as
yours
. I want you to know I'm here for you.”

He stood and hugged her. Mother was tiny compared to his height and bulk, but he was the one that looked vulnerable as she rubbed his back and murmured soothing things.

I curled my legs up under the towel, as if wrapping myself in terry cloth would help me contain my jealousy. I wasn't even sure who or what I jealous of. A hug from either of them? Both of them? The fact that Garrett was letting Mother be there for him in ways he hadn't let me?

It didn't matter, because entwined with my jealousy was so much self-reproach for feeling jealous. Why shouldn't Garrett,
whose own mother had walked out on him when he was twelve, borrow mine when he was mourning his best friend?

“I feel like my shadow is gone …,” he said through quiet sobs. “Or, like, I'm the shadow left behind and the person I'm supposed to be following is gone. I just keep
looking for him
. It's instinct. And I'm never going to find him.”

He hiccupped, and Mother rubbed his back in calming circles, the way she'd rubbed mine for the first six years of my life.

“I'm never going to find him,” Garrett repeated. “But I can't—I can't remember to stop looking.”

I stood up, planning to walk away and give him privacy, but he let go of Mother with one hand and held it out to me. I squeezed his fingers, he flexed them against mine. It wasn't holding hands, he couldn't squeeze back, but it was enough to let me know I was included. It was enough of an invitation that I stepped closer, put my hand on his back above my mother's, and leaned my head on his shoulder.

We stood this way for a long time. It was Mother who pulled back first, with a reluctant glance at her wristwatch.

“I love you, dear children.” She kissed both of our foreheads. “I have to go make sure Annette has sent in lunch trays for the men. Oh, and dinner tonight will be a little earlier—six thirty. Wear something nice; your father's invited the whole Family. Apparently there's going to be an announcement.”

Father stood at the head of the dining room table surrounded by all the members of the Family who could be gathered on short notice. His hand was on Nolan's shoulder. And Nolan beamed like a five-year-old who'd been given a puppy. Except it wasn't a puppy he'd been gifted, it was the Family.

“What?” I breathed it out. Choked on the word. Then said it louder—in a voice I wished was a demand but was little more than a whimper. “
What?”

“Sweet pea, we can talk later.” Father scarcely glanced at me before turning back to Nolan and lifting his wineglass high. “I know you'll all agree that this will be the beginning of another long reign of success for our Family. And that when my time ends, you'll pledge your loyalty to Nolan in the same way you've always given it to me.”

“Thank you, Malcolm.” Nolan took a deep breath, like he was preparing for a speech, but I cut him off.

“I don't understand.” I was on my feet. My glass was in my hand, but at an angle now. The splash of wine Mother had allowed Miles to pour for me spilled onto my plate and the tablecloth.

Jacob was seated next to me. He muttered quietly, “Yet your lack of understanding explains so much to the rest of us.” If there'd been anything left in my glass, I'd have thrown it in his face.

The rest of the Wards, the rest of the table, looked as shocked as I felt. Al's face was turning the same color as my spilled merlot. But they were raising glasses. Forcing neutral expressions and stiff nods of support.

I dropped my glass so I could brace myself against the table with both hands. It broke off at the stem and I heard Mother's sharp intake of breath. “But … how?
Nolan
?”

“We'll discuss this
later
, Penelope.” I'd never been on the receiving end when Father used that voice. It bit like a whip, making my eyes fill from the sting.

Through tears, I saw Garrett move. He pushed his chair back and stood, shook off Mick's restraining hand. Hugh grumbled, “Don't bother, Mick, he's more Landlow than Ward these days. Didn't you see the group hug by the pool?”

Garrett's mouth pressed into a hard line, but he kept walking around the table.

“Carter's dead, and he's
still
not their favorite son,” Jacob muttered under his breath, adding a few curses in front of Nolan's name.

I glanced at him in horror. I couldn't have heard him correctly. If Garrett had, Jacob would be sporting two new black eyes over the ones that'd mostly faded.

“Princess, let's go get some air,” he whispered when he reached my place.

I knew naming Nolan as successor was a Business decision, but it still felt
personal
. Father's whole “
I promise you will never have to endure another one of Nolan's lectures
”—he'd known … and hadn't told me.

“Is this because I broke into the clinic?” I whirled from Father to Mick. “You said you wouldn't tell. They're my counts—it's my blood.”

Mick's eyes widened and he shook his head, but the actions didn't register until Father thundered, “What?”

“I … I … it's my blood,” I repeated lamely.

“Penelope,” Father's roar continued, “you are excused.” The men at the table stood to mark my exit, eyes averted. He nodded at Garrett who moved to put a hand on my shoulder until Mother called out, “Don't touch her”—reminding everyone just how flawed I was.

He dropped his hands to my chair, pulling it out.

Jacob scoffed and said, “Babysitter,” and Father threw a warning glare his way. I stepped on his foot as I stood up.

It was too late, though. That word hit his brother the same way Mother's outburst had struck me. Garrett's cheeks burned as brightly as mine when he gestured for me to precede him out of the room.

I didn't run until we were out of sight. Garrett was right
behind me. I wanted our footsteps to clatter in the hallways, to show our anger and frustration in resounding echoes. But the original polished marble floors had been ripped out in the same remodel that rounded the estate's corners and softened the edges. The cork that replaced it absorbed most of the noise. How had I possibly thought Father would trust me with news about the Business when he didn't even trust me to walk without breaking myself?

In the solarium I carefully sat on a cushioned chair. Just once I'd like to throw myself down and weep with abandon—without worry that post-weeping, I'd spend a week in the clinic.

Garrett turned the lock before coming over to me. He crouched in the wood chips beside my chair, placing his hands on either side of my legs with just a whisper of space between his fingers and the bare skin below the hem of my dress.

I hiccupped. “Nolan's not even a Landlow. If I can't run it—and why can't I? Then it should go to
you
.”

Garrett looked down; the tips of his ears were red. “I'd kinda thought—well, hoped really—that someday it would be
ours—
all three of us. Carter and I always joked you and I would end up together. Only neither of us was really joking.”

I blushed and looked down too. Watched his pointer finger move closer until he was touching my leg, tracing small, soft circles across the front of my thigh. The touch made my head spin, sensation battling all my contradictory thoughts. Though Carter had given me plenty of grief about my infatuation, he'd never kept us apart.

“But he was so mad when he saw us that night … And you said you were sorry about it.”

Garrett flinched. “I wasn't sorry about
us
, I was sorry about the scene he caused.” He brushed a fingertip below my chin, telling me to look at him without actually exerting any pressure. “I don't think he was really mad, just shocked.”

“He did say it wasn't a big deal,” I was thinking aloud, replaying the Garrett-parts of my last conversation with Carter. “In fact, his last words to me were ‘Serves him right,' when I joked about breaking your heart.”

I was seeing through tears; Garrett was swallowing and blinking. “I only backed off because you needed space. And now everything's gone wrong. Nolan? I can't believe …
Nolan
?” He groaned. “My dad's going to be so pissed. And blame me. I know it.” His jaw tightened slightly, his finger pressing down on my leg for the barest fraction of a second before it resumed caressing. “Jacob's right, I'm a glorified babysitter. They're never going to take me seriously. They'll never stop blaming me. Carter's never coming back …”

His voice was thick. His eyes dark and far away, looking up through the glass ceiling as if there were an answer to be found in the night sky.

I reached out a trembling hand and touched his face, turned it back toward me. “Sometimes I really wish I could run away. Live in a shiny New York City apartment with a smiling doorman and forget all about life on the estate.”

Garrett placed his hand on top of mine, cupping my palm against his cheek, nuzzling into it in a way that made my pulse
skip and my skin flush. “Sounds good. Is there room in this fantasy for me to come too?”

“Yes.” I was breathless. Could he feel my hand go clammy against his face? This wasn't romance, it was grief and guilt and rage, but my head and heart and body were reacting like this was the stuff of fairy tales.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

I swallowed. And swallowed the urge to correct his
can
to
may
. Then cursed the voice of Nolan for running through my head at a time like this. Cursed everything about Nolan.

“I'll be gentle. You know I'd never hurt you, right?”

I nodded, tugging down the hem of my dress to cover the fingerprint bruise he'd left on my thigh when he was talking about Al. But that was an accident, it
shouldn't
have left a mark—which meant I needed to see Dr. Castillo.

His hands left the chair's cushion and settled on my neck, working their way up into my hair and tilting my head toward his—

There was a rattling of the door handle. A banging on the door.

“Penelope Maeve Landlow, open the door this instant or I'll have it broken down.”

We were across the solarium, obscured by a fountain. Father couldn't have seen us. We both exhaled, mine a sigh, his a grim chuckle as he walked to the door.

As soon as the lock was flipped, Father stormed into the room.

His rage was impressive, but so was mine. I stood up, putting
my hands on my hips and straightening to make use of every one of my five feet three inches.

“Father, I can't believe you.”

“
Me
? Don't start. Don't you even start. You embarrassed me in there. And you ruined what should have been a triumphant moment for Nolan.”

“Good,” I spat. “Why Nolan? Why not Garrett? Why not
me
?” My stupid voice quavered on the last word, and Father's face softened. “You said I was
essential
to the Family.”

“You are essential to
our
family—because your mother and I love you.” He sat down on a cushion and patted the seat next to him. “Come sit, Penny.”

“I wanted you to
fire him
, not promote him. And you said you were going to teach me how to run the Business.”

“No, I said I wanted to teach you. As Nolan learns my role, I'll be able to turn some responsibilities over to him and have more time for you. I was thinking classic literature—our own father-daughter book club.”

I shook my head. “Is this because I'm a girl?”

“Do not—do
not
imply that I am sexist.”

“Have you heard the Wards talk about women? Or some of the other Family members?”

“Don't mistake their opinions for mine. I have no problem with the idea of a female heading up a Family, but you are no Magnolia Vickers.”

“I'm not claiming I'm ready now, but you could train me. Why not name Miles for now and then train me?”

“Miles is older than I am. He's looking to retire soon.”

“But he'd only be a placeholder until I'm ready. It's hardly like
you're
retiring anytime soon.”

“Oh, Penelope.” He dropped his chin; sadness crept in to add lines on his face. “Who knows how long I have? The Family needs to know whom I've chosen as a successor. They need to know I have someone ready to take my place. Otherwise it leads to infighting, bloodshed. Nolan's got a vision for the future of the Business, and I think it's a valid one.”

“The Organ Act?”

Father didn't answer. He leaned over and kissed the top of my head. “I want you to have a life, sweet pea. Leading the Family is no way for you to spend it.”