Page 2 of Make You Mine

I never thought of that. Jake settling down and marrying the love of his life just put an even bigger target on my back for the matchmaking grandmothers. My brother was genuinely happy, completely in love with his beautiful wife, his stepsons, and their baby, and I was truly thrilled for him. But that ship had sailed for me. Considering how we grew up, it had never even been docked in the first place.

He hesitated. “Are you sure you should be alone?” he asked again, and the question was absolutely loaded. “You seem a bit down tonight. Are you okay?”

He’d fixed his life. Clearly, he thought mine should change for the better as well.

I steeled my gaze and met his eyes directly. “Yeah, man. I’m sure.”

“Okay, but—it’s been almost three years since Tabby, and, uh, I’m not trying to pressure you into talking if you’re not ready. I really don’t want to do that, but—” He dragged a hand down his face. “I’m not great at this. I’m here for you, Ren. You know that, right?”

My wife passed away almost three years ago. Jake supported me as he always had, and I appreciated it, but found it difficult to discuss. In fact, I refused to talk about it anymore—to anyone.

Tabby had been the best friend I’d ever had. She grew up in the apartment next to ours, and we went all through school together. I would always miss her. But I didn’t want to think about her now, so I shoved the memories out of my mind.

“I know, and it’s okay. This really isn’t the place for a heart-to-heart, Jake.” I gestured around the ballroom. “I mean, come on.” I let out a chuckle.

He had good intentions, but I was not about to delve into my tragic past at a charity dinner, for fuck’s sake.

"This is bad timing. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought it up.” He glanced over my shoulder. “They’re coming. Go out the back. I’ll tell them you have a headache or you ate some bad seafood and shit your pants. That ought to keep them at bay for a beat.” He winked. “Don’t worry. We can talk about this later.”

Or not.

“Thanks.” My hand pressed against my sternum in an almost unconscious gesture. One that did not go unnoticed by Jake.

Sympathy filled his eyes as his smile softened, and I didn’t know how much longer I could avoid having an honest conversation with him, especially since Lyla’s Place was now up and running, and I was moving from Portland to be closer.

Fucking great.

I stood up to go.

“Later, man.” He eyed me speculatively. “We’ll have dinner soon. I’ll text you. I think it might help to talk about it. Don’t you think it’s time?”

“I won’t say no to dinner, but I’m fine. I’m always fine.”

Contrary to what he obviously thought, I didn’t want what he had. Love was beautiful yet precarious. It was dangerous and fleeting and far too easily lost. It wasn’t worth the risk. I knew that better than anybody.

He slid his chair back, standing to embrace me with a back-slapping hug. “You will be. I’ll make sure of it.”

I pulled away, shaking my head at his well-meaning but unintentionally foreboding words. Then, I made my way to the exit, winding through the crowd and not stopping until I reached my car.

With each mile away from the city, I felt more relaxed. Letting out a sigh, I removed my tie and tossed it over my shoulder, exhaling sharply in relief as I undid the top two buttons of my dress shirt and leaned back against the seat.

Streetlights and skyscrapers blurred into my rearview, and starlight flickered through the trees as I entered the mountains. Lowering the windows, I inhaled deeply as the combined scent of pine and petrichor filled the car. There was something magical about mountain air. I could feel it, misty and clean against my skin, and I let it wash away the stress of the evening.

I had just bought a house in Honeybrook Hollow, one of the small villages along the highway to Mt. Hood, and tonight would be my first night there. I had sold my apartment in Portland and was almost finished clearing the place out. I’d also resigned from my law firm and would join Jake to work at his small law office in Sweetbriar, the next town over. This arrangement would give me more time at Lyla’s Place and allow for a slower pace.

It was time for a change. Past time, if I was being honest.

I’d been busting my ass for years, and I needed time to—I had no idea what I wanted, but I knew I needed to take the time to figure it out.

Honeybrook Hollow was a mere dot on the landscape, easily missed if you weren’t looking for it. The highway twisted and turned as I ascended into the mountains, each curve revealing a new vista of tall pines and dots of light from the homes scattered here and there.

Welcome to Honeybrook Hollow.The sign marked the turnoff from the highway onto Sycamore Street, which ran the length of the town. As I approached, I could see the small town lights twinkling like so many scattered stars in the distance. The road narrowed, forcing me to slow down as I navigated the way to my new home.

I turned on Loganberry Lane to go home. I needed a good night of sleep and a fucking sandwich. I was starving. Caviar and toast points were not my thing. My stomach growled in approval.

Jake probably thought I was just lonely. But I wasn’t lonely, I was just bad with people—talking, relating, trusting. Plus, he had no idea about me and Tabby. We had kept the truth about our relationship just between us. I would always love her, but we were neverin love.

She had leukemia when we were kids. A few years ago, it returned, so I stepped in after her husband left. We got married, and I ensured she was well cared for. When she died, I lost my best friend, and it has been tearing me apart ever since. I missed her.

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