Everly catches my eye as Henry steps back, before I can respond with a joke or stab to offset his words. Dammit.
That’s been the trend lately. He says something to me, and I lose my edge. We’re either slinging insults or he’s saying something that melts my insides. I don’t know what’s gotten into him. It’s been years of keeping our distance, but lately, he’s decided to provoke. Poke the bear, like I’m so used to doing to him. And I’d be lying if I said this bear didn’t come barreling out of hibernation ready for her next Henry-sized meal.
I watched my best friend get completely bamboozled by love this past year and, for some reason, it’s cracked my foundation. And lately, all I keep thinking about is how long it’s been since I’ve been in his arms. Thoughts that are dangerous in practice and for my sanity. What better way to make careless choices and not overthink about the man I can’t be with than to tipsily flirt my way around Everly’s bachelorette bash tonight.
22
Henry
I didn’t thinkI was a patient man. But time has shown me otherwise. At this very moment, however, it’s becoming clearer that I’ve reached my limit. Nine years, life is different, but the way I feel about her has remained the same. Stubborn or stupid, I can’t decide which is right. Nine years, and we’ve choreographed a simple dance around one another—pull each other in, and before we get too close, push away. Never too close, but never far enough to truly forget and move on. I’m not a saint, but I don’t overindulge. I sleep with women occasionally. Most of the time, it happens after I’ve seenherwith someone else, or if she’s pissed me off enough. Fucking someone is less trouble than throwing punches.
The first time I watched her flirt the night away at one of our family events and leave with someone, I ended up in the back of Callen’s police cruiser. I knocked a guy out who had said he’d skied better mountains. The guy wasn’t even talking to me. It wasn’t my finest moment. But I’ve learned. Instead of holding it in and ending up with bruised knuckles, I played her enemies game. We volley insults just enough to remain on the smarter side of our emotions. Anger versus want. Sarcasm instead of support. At least on the surface. She has no clue how often I’ve intervened, so that business owners along Main Street would stop instigating and finally consider Hideaway Ink a downtown staple. How Strutt’s Peak’s City Arts Council finally accepted her into their community. Small towns, if nothing, are welcoming to your face and brutal behind closed doors. If you allow it. And I didn’t.
But for some reason, now, I’ve reached a stopping point. It wasn’t any one moment or thing, but the reality that what I want, and what I can live with, has evolved. I watched my sister find happiness in ways she didn’t even know she was missing. I see my dad make choices that always support the family. I live a good life, but I want what I want. And for the past nine years, I’ve been denying myself. She’s been safe. Life has been quiet, with no issues with WITSEC. I’ve created programs with Agent Harper for other placements and there hasn’t been so much as a peep from G’s previous life. Nine years and no danger, other than the reality that I can’t do this dance with her any longer.
So, I’m here, watching my sister drunk at the bar, along with her best friend. Pure joy radiates from every part of Everly after finding the person that makes her most happy.
“You’re staring at her again,” Michael says, as he leans against the same wall I’ve been holding up for the past twenty minutes. I ignore him. Out of everyone, he’s the only one that’s noticed more than what’s on the surface between that maddening woman and me. “She’ll probably go home with both of those guys tonight. You know that, right?”
I try not to flinch at his words because, yes, he’s right. She doesn’t hold back. She goes after the things she wants at that moment, and most of the time, it’s in the form of some asshole. Tonight, it’ll be two.
Turning my head, I look at my brother. His longer hair is pulled back into a knot, his facial hair looks a bit longer, and he’s more fidgety than normal. “What’s got you worked up?” I ask.
It doesn’t take a genius to follow his line of sight too, and see the young brunette that’s captured his attention.
“She’s only back for winter break, and then she’ll be back in London.” I smile at him. “You should talk to her.”
He looks back at me, lifting a brow. “You should take your own advice.” Then he’s right back to staring at Gracie McKenna. “And she’s a kid, Henry.”
“She doesn’t look like a kid anymore. And I’m pretty sure she just had her twentieth birthday. Lenny wouldn’t shut up about it.”
A loud barking laugh draws our attention back to the bar. We watch as Giselle and Everly yell at each other to lick and suck on lemons.
Michael lets out a laugh. “Do you remember the Christmas after you broke off your engagement? The one with the lemon?”
Impossible to forget.
“The fact that something as trivial as not having lemons could piss you off is insane, Hanky,” G says as she pops a green grape into her mouth.
I was pissed because I needed lemons for two dishes I had planned to make for Sunday dinner, one of which was her vegetarian option, and our grocer had none. What grocery store is fresh out of lemons?!
“Why are you here right now? Ev is at the gym.” I turn back and start unloading the bags. “It’s like the universe wants me to have a shitty day,” I say under my breath.
“Such a sourpuss.” She starts laughing. “Right there. That face you’re giving me. It’s like you just sucked on a lemon. Sourpuss. Who cares, Hank. Improvise. Sometimes the world doesn’t work out how you’d like, and you have to find a new way.”
“Like you?” I bark back at her.
She pops one more grape into her mouth and crunches it, chewing with her mouth open. Obnoxiously. She says nothing else, grabs a bright electric blue bag from the seat next to her, and jumps off the chair at the counter.
It was a shitty thing to say.
A handful of weeks after that, on Christmas Eve, a night when I was feeling especially sorry for myself, and the divergent paths my life had taken, we all decided to open gifts before dinner. Dad hosts at the ranch, but I usually do the cooking. Giselle had given out all her gifts, even though Everly and Dad were adamant with her about not having to bring gifts for everyone. It was her first year joining us for the holiday.
G handed me a small bag, and inside was a single Meyer lemon. She wrote “Sourpuss” on the rind. Everyone had gotten a good laugh at that, in my honor.
What the rest of my family didn’t know, and what Michael isn’t aware of, is that later, that hilarious gift wasn’t really the gift at all. It was the card.
Long after dinner, late-night hot toddys, and wishing everyone a Merry Christmas, I arrived back at my new place to find the real gift Giselle had bought for me. Waiting outside the door was a 4ft box labeled ‘FRAGILE’ with Italian post markings, but no shipper or return address. It wasn’t a leg-shaped lamp. Though, I wouldn’t have put it past her. Instead, it was a lemon tree. No fruit on it, but enough little white blossoms, just like the ones sprinkled behind her ear, that I had plenty just a few weeks later.