Only in My Dreams (33 page)

He assumed it wouldn't be him, but since they were starting with that, maybe he'd at least get to finish the cottage. Wait, they wouldn't really have fired him from the cottage would they? Dylan hated that his heart was speeding up.

“We've talked at length—with Derek and Hayden too,” Kyle said, pushing away from the counter and dropping his hands to his sides, “and we've decided to hire you.”

Dylan's jaw dropped but he quickly snapped it shut.
Nice one, Westcott
. “Wow, that's great. Thanks.”

Tori's eyes narrowed slightly. “You seem surprised.”

Was there any point in trying to dodge the issue? “Well, yeah. I'm sure you can imagine why.”

Kyle stepped forward until he was standing next to his sister's chair. They looked like a mob boss and her enforcer or something. “Sara. We're concerned about that. We'd actually like to ask you to step back from her while you're working on the project.”

“Don't you think that's her decision?” Hadn't he just been thinking that long-term relationships weren't his thing? Now he was being asked to break things off. But not by the person who mattered. The whole thing tasted bad. “What's between me and Sara is just that—between me and Sara.”

Tori stood up. “We get how this looks and we sort of feel like a-holes asking, but you don't know Sara like we do. This has been a really tough time for our family, and with Mom gone,” she exchanged glances with Kyle who nodded slightly, “it's just a crappy situation. Sara doesn't always know when to step away. It's sort of the nature of sensory processing disorder.”

A little of Dylan's ire dissipated. He got that they cared about their sister, even appreciated them for it, but the whole conversation still felt weird. Maybe that was because it was a family-oriented discussion that required him to bare parts of himself or see parts of other people he preferred to ignore.

“We can't control you or Sara—and we don't want to,” Kyle said. “But we'd be seriously derelict in our sibling duties if we didn't look out for her.”

Dylan wondered what she'd think of that. She'd told him one of the reasons she'd left Ribbon Ridge was to establish her own sense of self, to prove that she could manage things independently. And she'd absolutely nailed it when she'd said her siblings would stick their noses in her business.

Tori nodded. “We love her more than anything, and we'll do anything to protect her.”

Dylan got that. He might be the odd guy out in his families, but he loved his brothers and sister and he'd do anything for them too. “I hear what you're saying, but you're going to have to trust Sara to make the best choice for herself. Can you do that?”

They looked at each other. “We can,” Tori said. “But if you take this job and things turn ugly between you and her . . . you have to understand that we'll do whatever is necessary to preserve our family's well-being.” Tori blinked as if she were fighting back tears. “It's the most important thing.”

Damn, it was so easy to forget they'd lost their brother, an integral part of their family and their lives, not even four months ago. “I understand.”

“This isn't a threat.” Kyle's blue-green eyes were piercing in their intensity. “It's just a fact. So think long and hard about what's important here, to all of us.”

Fuck
. If he pursued a relationship with Sara and it tanked, the one thing he counted on for stability and fulfillment, his work, would be an utter disaster. Plus, he will have screwed up her life in the process, which was sufficiently complicated all on its own. Which only left one alternative—calling things off now.

“Thanks for the opportunity. I'll think about what you said.” He nodded at them, then turned to go.

“We'll talk later this week about specifics.” Tori's voice had lost any semblance of the emotion she'd shown earlier. Back to business. “I need to select an engineer soon, and I'd like your input.”

Dylan looked back over his shoulder and summoned a smile he didn't feel. “Sure.”

He left the trailer and started back toward the cottage. Of all the things weighing down his mind, one thing stood out: the ferocity with which the Archers loved and protected each other. Did he have that with his families? He hoped so, but because he kept them at arm's length, he realized he'd never know.

S
ARA WOKE UP
Monday morning feeling somewhat refreshed after spending Sunday doing yoga, watching her favorite movies, and painting her toenails. Kyle and Tori had—wisely—given her a wide berth.

Dad strolled into the kitchen and brushed a kiss against her forehead on his way to the fridge. He pulled out a bottled smoothie. “Just finished a nice ride. I was hoping to see you this morning,” he said, unscrewing the lid from his drink. “Have you decided what you're going to do now that you've sold your business? I'm so proud of you for the way you handled that.”

“Thanks. I'll be managing the wedding venue at The Alex and eventually all of the entertainment when the project is done. And I've actually been thinking of moving back to Ribbon Ridge.”

“Really?” Dad's lips split in the most genuine smile she'd seen from him in months. “That's great to hear, kitten.”

She turned on the bar stool and patted the one next to her. “What's up?”

He came and sat, his eyes looking more alive than they'd been since before Alex had died. “I'm considering a new project—inspired by The Alex. I've found a property in central Oregon that I'd like to renovate. It's actually an old farm. It'll make a great multipurpose space—bed and breakfast, pub-slash-restaurant, and event venue. It's a great location.”

Sara curled her hand around her cup. Was this because he wasn't involved in this project? She felt a pang of irritation that Alex had left him out. “That's a lot to take on.”

“Yes, but after nine brewpubs, I think I can handle it,” he said wryly.

That was true. He was a real estate developer by inheritance. The Archers had developed Ribbon Ridge, expanded their interests, and owned a great deal of commercial property that housed a variety of endeavors. But at his heart, Dad was a brewer. This sounded like some sort of midlife crisis, which he was absolutely entitled to right now, instead of a business venture.

“Why the sudden interest in this, Dad? Is it because of The Alex?”

He set his drink down and looked at the counter. “In part, I guess. With your mother gone, I just . . . I just need something to do.”

Sara's heart ached for him. Though Mom was visibly the most upset about Alex, Sara wondered if Dad had taken his death the hardest. Sometimes she thought he maybe hadn't faced it at all. “You can be involved at The Alex if that's what you want.”

“It's not what Alex wanted,” Dad said tightly. He braced his hands on the counter and stared out the windows overlooking the pool and yard below.

She touched his wrist. “Dad. I know this has been really hard for you. Tell me what I can do.”

When he turned his head to look at her, his eyes were surprisingly dry. Surprisingly? She had yet to see him cry since the day he'd found Alex.
Oh, noooo
. Why hadn't she ever thought of that? Dad had been the one to find him in his bed that morning. The one who hadn't been able to wake him. The one who'd tried, unsuccessfully, to revive him. “Do you ever want to talk about it?” She said softly, tentatively. “That day.”

He looked away from her again and shook his head. “No. That won't help. It's best if I don't think about it too much.” He smiled weakly. “You're probably right. I have plenty to keep me busy here, especially with Hayden gone.”

“You should let Kyle step in. There's no reason not to.” She inwardly flinched waiting for his answer, knowing that Kyle was still a sore subject with him.

Dad's expression turned weary. “There are reasons, but I won't get into them.”

“I've made peace with Kyle. It's time for you to do the same. Talk to him. I know he wants to make things right.”

“I appreciate that you're trying to help.” His features softened. “I'll give him a shot, okay?”

“I don't think you'll be sorry.” She hugged him tight. “I love you, Dad.”

“I love you too.” He pulled back and looked at her. “I'll be in my office if you need me.”

Sara watched him go and her phone vibrated on the counter. She reached over to pick it up and looked at the display.

T
ORI
: Wanted you to know that Kyle and I went ahead and hired Dylan for phases two and three
.

Sara stared at the phone. Had he said something? Done something? She couldn't believe they'd offered him the job after the way they'd tried to meddle the other night.

She didn't know what was going on, but suspected it involved overprotective siblings. Who she planned to punch in the throat.

D
YLAN CUT OUT
of work early Monday evening after getting a text from his dad asking him to stop by and take a look at his water heater. As the de facto family handyman, Dylan got these sorts of calls all the time. As much as he kept his family at arm's length, he liked feeling needed. Particularly today when he was thinking—too much—about family and his place in it.

When he drove up to his dad's house, he nearly kept going. Parked outside was a car he recognized and strove to avoid: his ex-wife's.

He parked at the end of the driveway and turned off the engine. He sat there for a minute and then jolted to attention as Jessica came out of the house and started down the driveway toward his truck.

He climbed out of the cab and came around. She was dressed in her workout clothes but her hair and makeup were perfect, which meant she'd come from work. She always did her workouts in the morning, before she started her shift as a personal trainer.

“Hi, Dylan.” She chewed her lower lip, a telltale sign she was nervous.

“How are you, Jess? Long time, no see.”

“Just the way we like it, right?” She flashed a smile. “There's no need to pretend, is there?”

They'd known each other too long and too well to fake anything. “What're you doing here?”

“Dropping off a book from my mom for Angie. Book club.”

Angie went to book club with Monica too? Dylan shook his head. “Congratulations are in order, I hear. Who's the lucky guy?”

“You don't know him. He's an alcohol and drug counselor over in Newberg.”

At the rehab center most likely. “That where you're going to live?” He couldn't help the feeling of resentment that threatened if her answer was yes. She'd complained endlessly about having to move away from Ribbon Ridge even temporarily when they were married.

“No, we have a house here. In the new subdivision on the east side.” Closer to Newberg then. “What about you? Seeing anyone?”

“Sort of.” It was as accurate of an answer as he could give.

“Good for you. I hope it grows to more than sort of.” She edged toward him and he caught her scent, a tropical, flowery perfume he could never remember the name of. She pushed her long dark hair over her shoulder. “You deserve to be happy, if you can. Did you ever get therapy?”

She'd pushed him to get counseling the last year or so of their marriage. She'd claimed the army had messed him up, but it hadn't been the army, it had been their differences: her need for family involvement and approval and his absolute indifference to it.

“No, I didn't.”

She looked to the left, her nostrils flaring. “You're as revelatory as ever.”

He leaned back against the hood of his truck, uncaring that it was dirty and radiating heat. “You know, when I divorced you, I thought I was sparing myself from further scolding about my lack of communicating.”

She glared at him. “You did. Now I remember why we aren't even friends. Not that I expected anything more given the craptastic example your parents set. See you around, Dylan.” She stalked off to her car.

Dylan pushed away from the truck and pivoted toward the house, irritation boiling just beneath the surface. Jessica was the last person he'd needed to see today when he was trying to sort his life out. Why had Dad invited him over if she was going to be here? Why the hell didn't his family close ranks and protect their own the way the Archers did?

He raised his hand to knock on the door and then thought,
screw it
. Dad always told him to just come in, so he did.

Dad came from the kitchen, his face pinched. “You didn't run into Jessica, did you?”

“A little warning would've been nice.”

“Sorry, I didn't know she was stopping by. I never would've asked you to come over if I had. Believe me, I know how painful it is to run into your ex.”

Jessica's words burned Dylan's chest. “Why is that exactly? Thirty years you and Mom have been divorced, and you still can't treat each other civilly. You guys are great role models.”

Dad straightened, his graying eyebrows first climbing then dropping low over his eyes. “What's with you?”

A lifetime of buried hurt erupted to the surface. “I'd like to know why I wasn't important enough for you and Mom to try to get along.”

Dad held up his hand. “Dylan, you're plenty important enough.”

“Really? Then why did you guys take versions of our family pictures without me in them?”

Dad wiped his hand over his mouth. “That was only a few times. Angie—”

“I know.
Angie
. It was always Angie. You put her before me, just like Mom put Bill before me. That is, when you weren't putting your other kids first.” Years of shoving the pain to the back of his mind rolled over him, gathering momentum like a massive snowball tumbling down a steep slope. “I never came first. I have no idea what it feels like to be the most important thing in another person's life. Why the
fuck
is that, Dad?”