Hunks, Hammers, and Happily Ever Afters (36 page)

“I had no idea you were such a philosopher.” Or so open minded. Nothing about Brodie made sense to her. His appearance versus the man she was getting to know were so incongruous she had trouble reconciling the combination.  “So hiring Maura—”

“Yeah.” He cringed. “I probably should have talked to you about that first.”

“No.”  Regan dipped her head to meet his fallen gaze. “No, I’m glad you didn’t. She took charge and did something I don’t know I would have had the courage to do at her age. It’s not like you didn’t know what you were taking on. You knew she has, had, issues.”

“Had?” His eyebrow arched.

“Toshi threw us in your back room to hash things out.” And she owed Toshi for it. “We have a long way to go, but I think we understand each other better. I didn’t know she was as passionate about art as she is and I guess I have you to thank for that.”

“I’ve seen a lot of artists in various mediums. Your sister’s one of the best, Regan. And I don’t say that lightly.”

Regan didn’t know whether to be relieved or terrified at that prospect.  “So where’s your mentor now? The tattoo artist who took you in?”

“He died seven years ago.  Cancer. He asked me to bring his ashes out to San Francisco, scatter them in the bay.  He’d left me some money so I was comfortable, but I got a job at a parlor there, met Gemma and well...” He shrugged and whatever trance they'd been caught up in finally broke. “And now here I am. Starting over. What about you?”

“What about me?”  Regan was back to focusing on his arm work, losing herself in the images that were a map of his life.  She wanted to know every moment, every obstacle. Every triumph. She wanted...him. Even though she shouldn't.

“What do you want, Regan?”  He reached out his other hand and brushed a finger down her cheek.  “Are you happy?”

Happy?  Regan forced herself to meet his questioning gaze. “My family is in one piece. They’re safe, for the most part, and turning in to good people. Like my mother wanted.”

“What happened to her?”

“I want to say one too many kids,” Regan attempted to joke, but a soft sob caught in her throat.  “Apparently my family’s fertile enough to defy a vasectomy and birth control.  Before Fallon was born, Ma called her the oopsie baby. It was a family joke. Ma was forty-six when she got pregnant.” Tears burned her throat as she remembered the night her parents had told them about the new baby.  “Trust me, at twenty the last thing you want to hear is that your parents are expecting.  Again. I was in college, so I was able to push it aside.  Until Fallon was born. Ma never got to see her; she suffered an embolism delivering her. And then that was that. I came home and—”

“Took up where your mother left off.”

“I had to.” Any dreams she might have had had fallen away. And she’d had to let them.  “Pop was no use. He shut down, turned off. He’s never really turned on again. Fallon needed me, needed us, and between me and my brothers and sister, we managed. She’s like this little light in the family. Always bright, always on.” Regan shrugged and realized it was the same gesture Maura made when she wasn’t sure how to deal with emotions bearing down on her. “I’d made Ma a promise, a few months before Fallon was born when she said she thought something was wrong; something didn’t feel right. I told her she was imagining things, that even if something was wrong, I’d always be there for the family. That I’d see them through no matter what. She seemed relieved, so I let it stand. And then it became a reality.”

“Some would say you’ve had it harder than I have.”

“I wouldn’t.” Regan shook her head. “I had stability and tons of family around—”

“But you’ve been alone. Haven’t you?”

It was one thing for Regan to know that. It was another to have someone—Brodie especially—point it out. She was alone—in all the ways that mattered. In others... “It is what it is.  And now you understand why this.” She waved her hand between them like a flipper.  “This can’t go anywhere, Brodie.  I can’t take on anyone or anything else. I have a family to care for, a business to run, and it can’t matter how much—”

“How much what?”  He leaned closer, his warm breath brushing her face.

“Don’t,” Regan whispered even as she realized there wasn’t anything more she wanted in the world than for Brodie to kiss her again, to touch her again.  “Please. I can’t do this to you or to Cilla. My life is what it is. It’s already too full. Don’t ask me to choose between you and my family.”

“I would never ask you to do that. But I do think you’re underestimating yourself and me,” he said, stroking his hand down her face.  “And your family, too. You don’t have to choose, Regan.  There’s a way to—”

“No.” She pulled away from him, tugged her hand free and realized then that his touch had marked her forever as effectively as one of his needles.  “And now I’m not even sure friends is a good idea.” She got to her feet and smoothed a hand down her sides. “I can’t take on anything more, Brodie. I’ve got my hands full with the family I already have. I’m sorry if you can’t understand that.”

“I understand you think that’s the case.”  He stood but instead of walking away, he drew her with him. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop wanting to spend time with you.”

“Don't make me be the bad guy, Brodie, please.” If she didn't walk away now, she would feel torn every second she was with him. She didn’t want to know how happy she might be with him, with him and Cilla. She didn’t want to fall in love with either of them and yet she was terrified she might already be too late. “I’m glad Cilla’s okay.  Tell her I’ll always have a box of crayons for her at the pub. But it’s best if you and I say goodbye.” She pulled her hands free and hurried down the hall and yanked her purse off the floor beside the front door. She had her hand on the handle when she felt Brodie’s on her shoulder, turning her around  “Brodie, please—”

He kissed her, a gentle pressing of lips, a soft caress of fingertips against her face. Just enough to remind her of the promise of what she was walking away from. Just enough to slice through her heart and leave a permanent mark.

“Please what?” he murmured against her lips.

She blinked open her eyes and grabbed hold of his wrists, squeezing her fingers tight before letting go.  “Please let me go.”

He did and for an instant, she regretted the request, but there was too much between them. Too much she couldn’t risk taking on for fear of failing the family she already had.

“At some point you need to live for yourself, Regan. I’ll be here if you change your mind.”  He opened the door for her and stepped back.  She walked outside and faced him one more time. He smiled, that amazing beautiful smile that had haunted her dreams from the first day they’d met. “But I won’t wait forever.”

He closed the door.

CHAPTER NINE

Regan shielded her eyes as her brother Des clicked on the fringed Tiffany lamp next to the sofa.  He stared down at her. Three years her junior, Des was the level-headed one, the practical one. The one who believed the world was black and white and the grays were only a matter of perception and choice. He’d been her support system these last years.  She couldn’t have made it this far without him. But right now, she wasn’t in the mood for a lecture.

“I thought brooding in the dark was Dad’s bailiwick,” he said, piercing blue-green eyes silently accusing.

She toasted her brother with the half-filled glass of Whiskey she had yet to sip out of. She’d forgotten how much she hated the smell. “Maybe it’s genetic.”

“God, I hope not.” Des sat beside her on the ancient floral couch and shifted to face her. “Heard you had a date tonight. Kind of early to be home, isn’t it?”

“Midnight isn’t early.” Ten o’clock would have been early, which is why she took the long way home to kill two hours, but try as she might, she couldn’t push Brodie out of her mind.  She didn’t want—didn’t need him—complicating her life.  But the more she thought about him, the more she realized what she was missing.  He made her feel alive, as if she were more than a pub manager, big sister, dutiful daughter. He saw her as the woman she wanted to be; the woman she’d never really had the chance to be.

“In my experience anything before two a.m. on date night is early.”  Des stretched his arm along the back of the sofa and pinched her upper arm. “What’s going on? Date a dud? Or a disaster?”

“Let’s just say it didn’t go as planned.”  She shook her head. “I don’t want to talk—”

“You never want to talk about anything. And this." He plucked the glass out of her hand and set it on the side table  behind him.  "Is not going to help. You must really like this guy.”

She tried to shake her head again, but tears burned her eyes and erased the lie before she could utter it. “I really do,” she whispered and looked away, pressing her hand over her mouth. “It’s so stupid. We’ve known each other what? A couple of weeks? Less than that." Her breath escaped in a shudder. “But from the second I met him, it was like—”

“You found home?” Des finished. “Ma used to say that about Dad, remember?”

She nodded, squeezing her eyes so tight she saw stars explode.  She felt tears trickle down her cheeks as Des shifted closer and drew her against him.  She stiffened, struggled for a moment, then sagged into him in a brief bout of surrender.  “I made a promise, Des.” She whispered.  “To Ma. To all of you. To hold this family together no matter what.”

“Which you’ve done spectacularly well, by the way.”

“I’m not looking for compliments.” She sniffled and pounded a fist against his T-shirt covered chest. “I just never let myself believe I could have or that I’d even want something beyond this.” She waved a hand around the time-encapsulated living room that, aside from the addition of new family photographs, hadn’t changed since their mother died.  “But sometimes I feel like I’m suffocating. I feel so alone, Des. Like if I take one step too far and the rest of you will fall away like ashes in the wind. But now there’s Brodie and that beautiful little girl of his and I feel so guilty for wanting something more.”

“Only one person in this family has anything to feel guilty about.” Des hugged her tight. “We both know that. Ma might have been the one who died, but Dad’s the one who turned in to a ghost. We’re all lucky you got Ma’s strength. But you got his stubbornness, Regan. Maybe more than a double dose. Nowhere in that promise you made Ma did it say you had to sacrifice your life, your future, for us.”

“I didn’t see it as a sacrifice.”  Not until now. Not until Brodie.  And part of her hated him for it. “I just figured this was the family I was meant to have. For all intents, Fallon was mine from the day she was born. I’ve got the pub. I’ve got all of you. Why all of a sudden doesn’t that feel like enough?”

“Because none of this was your choice. In all the years since Ma died, you’ve never once put yourself ahead of us.  Well, aside from book club.”

She laughed and wiped the dampness from her face.  “My sanity saver.”

“Then we owe them as well.  Listen to me.”  Des pushed her into her corner of the couch and pinned her with the same look she would have aimed on any one of her siblings. “This family is not going to disappear. We aren’t going to abandon you or fall apart because you decide you want to chase after something—or someone—you want. This isn’t an either or situation, Sis. You can have everything you want, you just have to give a little. You’ve given us the last eight years, Regan. Isn’t it time you took something for yourself?”

“It’s not that simple.” She swiped her fingers under her eyes. “There’s too much—”

“And there always will be. You just need to decide if you’re worth the sacrifice. Personally, I think you are. And whatever you decide to do, I will always have your back. We all will.”

“I know that.”

“Do you?” He didn’t look convinced.  “It would be helpful, then, if you’d actually tell us what you need from time to time. Stop shutting us out. We’re a family. It’s time we all started pulling our weight.”

“Yeah, well, maybe not all of you will.” Regan heaved a heavy sigh and dispelled the melancholy that had settled around her. Wallowing in what ifs and what could bes weren’t going to get her anywhere. There was work to be done, siblings to oversee, and the
Spring in to Summer
festival to get off the ground.  God. She pinched her eyes shut. The festival. She had a meeting tomorrow with her committee.  In the meantime, having a good cry and a good confession session with her brother would have to be enough to refocus her and maybe, if she was lucky, push thoughts of Brodie to a vacant corner of her mind. “Thanks, Des.”  She patted his knee as she stood up. “Good talk.”

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”  He crossed an ankle over one knee. “You’re not going to change a damn thing are you?”

She probably wouldn’t, but she hedged her bets. “I’m going to sleep on it. We’ll see how things look in the morning.  Good night.”  She headed down the hall to the stairs, catching a flash of movement behind the slightly ajar door to her father’s room.  She hesitated, considered checking on him, but the idea he might be awake raised the possibility of yet another argument she couldn’t win and honestly, she didn’t have the energy.

She headed upstairs and closed her bedroom door behind her, leaning back and staring into the empty space.  The silence bore down on her, a harsh reminder of how alone she truly was despite Desmond’s assurances. It didn’t matter what he said, she’d set her life in stone years ago. She could wish things were different from now until the end of time, but in the end, she’d always known she’d made a difference in her family’s life.

It was just going to have to be enough.

~*~

B
eing relegated to friend status with Regan sucked.

It hadn’t taken Brodie long to come to this realization; about the time it took for him and Cilla to have lunch at the pub a few days after his and Regan’s “date”.  They’d been greeted with the same enthusiasm and as usual, Regan had bestowed her utmost attention on Cilla, but when it came to talking to Brodie—to sharing the banter and joking and any topic of the day—there was none of that. She appeared to have trouble even meeting his gaze, as if afraid that if she did, she’d be pulled into a vortex she couldn’t escape from.