Page 22 of Caught in the Axe
“A honey oat-milk latte,” I said when it was my turn, handing the barista my card. “And a blueberry scone.”
“Are you visiting?” she said, her smile bright, as she swiped my card.
I nodded. “This place is impressive.” If the way the hair at the back of my neck prickled was any indication, more than one pair of eyes was watching me, so I ducked my head, intent on ignoring the attention, and focused on friendly small talk.
It wasn’t easy. In a city like Boston, I blended in with any crowd, but here, I supposed I stuck out a bit. Was it the cashmere overcoat and Bruno Magli shoes, or was it me? The same thing had happened when I’d gone to the diner, and I wasn’t the only one the locals had gawked at. How my brothers put up with this day in and day out was beyond me. The scrutiny was unnerving, and I’d only been here ahandful of days. Granted, Gus was pretty antisocial and Finn was blinded by love, but what about Jude? And my mom?
When my latte was ready, I carried it and my scone to the back corner, giving Mrs. Porter, my high school English teacher, a nod as I went. She at least had the grace to say hello. Father Renee, who sat across the table from her, didn’t have the same good manners.
I booted up my laptop, thoroughly impressed with the USB chargers built into the tables. This place was very cool. Sadly, it would probably be closed in six months, like many other small businesses that struggled to earn enough to keep the doors open up here.
I’d come here for a change of scenery. Not because I’d hoped to see a certain familiar face. I was reviewing the financials for the GeneSphere campus, the project that had been driving Enzo and me crazy for the past two years. I’d needed the quiet spot so I could focus, and the coffee was a bonus.
That was it.
If asked, I’d deny that I’d spent the last twenty-four hours holed up in my cabin, alternating between stewing over what the hell my father had been doing for the last twenty years—and still trying to understand why—and thinking about Lila: her smile, her laugh, her unabashed love for her minivan.
That thought alone brought a smile to my face every time.
It was a sickness, clearly borne out of the trauma of returning to my hometown. Lila was beautiful and friendly, and she was a genuinely nice person. That was all. Andgiven my shitty association with Lovewell and the not so warm reception I’d received, it was no wonder she stuck out in my mind.
The bell over the door chimed, pulling me from thoughts of Lila I was beginning to worry I’d never escape.
When I looked up, my older brother was watching me, wearing an annoyed frown. He collected his coffee, nodded silently at the barista, and strode my way. Once he’d settled in the seat on the other side of my booth, he sipped his coffee tranquilly. He hadn’t said a word. Hadn’t greeted anyone he passed on the way.
I, on the other hand, was keenly aware, once again, of all the townspeople who were watching us.
“You get used to it,” Gus muttered, coffee cup held aloft.
“Are people always this hostile?”
Young parents with small children and retirees alike were watching us, wearing expressions filled with a mixture of pity and scorn.
“It’s not hostility. It’s curiosity.” Gus lifted one shoulder, seemingly unbothered. “It’s gotten so much better. Last year, Adele went on a tirade, threatened the mayor and shamed Father Renee when they were rude to Finn and Merry. I wasn’t there, but people still talk about it.”
Huh. I had not heard that story. But it would explain how quickly my brother had fallen head-over-heels in love with the woman. “Shit.”
He hummed into his coffee. “Part of living here.”
I bit my tongue. This was not the place to pick this fight, but it was hard to understand why they stayed. Why here? Did the good really outweigh the bad? Because from where Iwas sitting, there weren’t many items listed in the pro column.
“And since you left, they’re gonna be extra critical.”
Gus was the practical, serious one. He was hyper-competent and always learning. There was nothing the guy couldn’t do. He’d built his own house, for Christ’s sake.
He had assigned himself the role of protector a long time ago and had never relinquished that mantle. He shoveled Mom’s driveway when it snowed and had driven Nanna to every one of her hair appointments when she was still alive. He was a good, steady guy.
I’d always been the overachiever. If asked, my father would swear that by the time I started preschool, I thought I was too good for everyone.
Where Gus had stayed, embraced his role in this family and the business, I’d run away screaming the minute I graduated from high school.
“I’m the bad guy for leaving, yet no one has a problem with Noah for doing the same thing?” I asked. “What gives?”
Gus cocked one brow, as if he was surprised I needed an explanation. “He’s Noah. That kid couldn’t stand still with a gun to his head. He’s a free spirit.”
True. Noah had been in elementary school when he first disappeared into the woods for days. Scared the living shit out of Mom. The only one who could ever track him down was Jude, no doubt because of their creepy twin connection. Noah was larger than life, gregarious, and adventurous. He’d spent his life practically bouncing off walls. The kid hated being inside, hated school. Hell, if it didn’t involve running barefoot through the woods, he wasn’t interested.
It was a miracle he’d finished high school,and he’d only done that because of my mom’s and Jude’s diligence. He’d lived everywhere and tried every type of job and sporadically checked in with us.
