Only in My Dreams (19 page)

“That's not enough.” Hayden put his hands on his hips. The breeze ruffled his light brown hair. “You shouldn't be in an environment like this.”

“What makes you the judge of what she should and shouldn't do?” Dylan moved closer to Sara. “She's a grown woman. If she wants to tear apart drywall and explore secret passageways, that's her prerogative.”

Apparently Dylan wasn't so mad at her. Or maybe it was like the family rule: “I can be mad at you, but no one else can be.” Which was ridiculous. Dylan wasn't even close to being her family.

She appreciated Dylan's support, but she could stand up for herself. “Dylan's right. Back off, Hayden.”

Hayden's lips pressed together, but he didn't say anything.

Sara turned to Dylan. “I'll take it from here. Thanks for the . . . adventure.”

His gaze met hers, and she had a suspicion their conversation, argument, foreplay—whatever it was—wasn't over. Even though they'd both probably intended it to be.

With a final look at Hayden, Dylan stalked into the house.

Hayden watched Dylan walk away, but some of the heat had left his gaze, as well as some of the tension from his body.

Sara punched Hayden lightly in the arm. “Someday, I hope you and Tori and everyone else will stop smothering me. I'm a grown woman. If I want to do something ‘dangerous'—though this wasn't—it's my choice. And don't tell me I don't understand the risks. I do. You guys don't understand
me
. I'm not a little girl you need to protect anymore.”

He looked at her intently. “You're my sister. I'll always feel the need to protect you.”

She moved toward the doorway and he fell into step beside her. “I appreciate that. But there's being a great brother and there's being a meddling jerk.”

“Harsh. Do you really think I was being a jerk?”

“You talked to Dylan like he was ten, and in the process referred to me as if I were a similar age and quite helpless or stupid. Yeah, I'd call that being a jerk.”

“Yikes.” He snagged her elbow and drew her to stop. “Do we do that a lot? Me and the others?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled and gave her a sheepish look. “We only ever wanted to make things easier for you, to make sure you're safe and secure. At least, that's all I ever wanted.”

His sincerity soothed her irritation. “I know, and I appreciate it. But you guys don't understand that some things will never be easy for me, at least not as easy as they are for you or Tori or Liam. And you know what? That's okay.
I'm
okay.”

He put his arms around her for a fierce hug. “I'm sorry. I'll try not to be a jerk. And I'll try to make sure no one else acts like a jerk either. I love you, Sara.”

She hugged him back. “I love you, too. You should apologize to Dylan.” She probably should too. Again. He was right that she should maybe stay away from the job site—for both of their sakes.

“Yeah, I probably should.”

A chime from Hayden's phone broke them apart. He pulled it from his pocket. “Shit. Mom wants me to come home ASAP.”

Alarm shot through Sara, tightening her muscles. She wondered if Mom had texted her too. She pulled her phone from her back pocket just as it vibrated. It read:
Come home right away
.

She met Hayden's frown with one of her own and they took off down the dirt road. Her hoodie was still in the basement, but she didn't bother to go get it.

When they got to their cars in the lot, Hayden nodded toward her. “See you there.”

After a frantic fifteen-minute drive home, Sara pulled in just after Hayden. They quickly parked their cars and jumped out.

She narrowly beat him to the door and rushed inside. She practically ran down the hall from the mudroom. “Mom? Is everything—”

She stopped short, her heart freezing for a moment at the sight of Kyle seated next to Mom at the island. “Kyle?”

Hayden came up beside her. “What the hell? Mom, are you okay?”

Mom smiled. “Perfectly, as you can see. Kyle's home. To stay.”

Sara stared at him in disbelief. After all this time, without any advance notice, he'd just come home?

Hayden asked the question hovering at the edge of her tongue. “What sort of trouble brought you back?”

Chapter Eleven

H
AYDEN
'
S SCORNFUL TONE
dripped icicles about the room and froze Mom's smile. Sara rushed forward to touch her hand. “Mom, we're just surprised to see Kyle. You could've said something in your text.” She threw Hayden an admonishing glance, which wasn't exactly fair. Kyle's return
was
shocking.

Hayden walked around the island to the smaller island on the other side of the kitchen, which housed the keg tap. He pulled a half-pint and took a long drink. “Listen, I'm sorry if this upsets you, Mom, but Kyle can't just march in here like he didn't abandon his responsibilities when he took off for sunnier climes and zero accountability.”

“You could actually say that to me since I'm sitting right here,” Kyle said. “You act like I left you in the lurch or something. So I didn't want the job Dad offered me; why does that make me the bad guy?”

Hayden glared at him. “Because he needed someone and you were available. And really, don't you think leaving a note on the kitchen counter and jumping on a plane smacks of running away?”

Kyle's jaw tightened and he looked away. Yeah, he'd run away all right. Sara only wished she knew why.

Hayden leaned his hip against the counter. “So why come back now? It's not like you give a damn about this project. You don't respond to any of the e-mails about it.”

Sara almost wanted to join him in lambasting Kyle, but she felt Mom tense. Stroking her hand, Sara watched her warily.

“He's come back to participate, just like I knew he would,” Mom said, pivoting to look at Hayden.

Kyle turned his stool toward him. “Alex wanted me to manage the restaurant. I changed my mind. I want to be involved from the beginning.”

“Classic. Let's all wait around for Kyle to make up his mind.” Hayden set his beer down on the granite counter with a loud clack. “Maybe if you read the e-mails, you'd know we're nowhere near breaking ground on the restaurant.”

Kyle crossed his arms and cocked his head to the side, his blue-green eyes chilly. “I
do
read the e-mails, which is how I know Tori is getting ready to draft a design for the restaurant. I'd like to give input.”

Hayden flicked a disbelieving glance at Sara. She was as surprised as him. Reaching for her sleeve, she remembered her hoodie was back at the job site. With Dylan. No, she couldn't think about him right now. “You really came back to participate?” she asked. “What about your precious job?” He'd claimed to have found his calling as a beach bartender, which none of them believed or understood. He was a brilliant chef, and concocting tropical drinks was a waste of his considerable talent.

“I left.” His eyes narrowed. “Why is it so hard to accept that I decided I should come home?”

“Because you've never showed the slightest inclination.” Hayden's pale blue eyes flashed. “Come on, something prompted you to come back. Did you run out of money? Get fired maybe?”

Both of those things had happened back when Kyle had been living in Portland. Which is what made his refusal of Dad's job offer all the more puzzling. Why turn that down and run off to Florida where he had to start over?

“Yes, Hayden, I burned through my entire trust fund.” The sarcasm in his tone was razor sharp.

“Stop it.” Mom's voice cut through the kitchen with the precision of a cold, steel blade. “I won't sit here and listen to you talk to each other this way. Kyle is home, and he's here to help.”

“For how long?” Dad stepped into the kitchen and joined Hayden at the smaller island.

Hayden pulled a pint from the keg and set it on the counter in front of Dad. Then he circled around to the end of the counter.

“Indefinitely,” Kyle answered, his gaze turning circumspect with Dad's arrival. Kyle had pissed off a lot of people in the family, but none more than Dad. And maybe Derek. They'd been the best of friends until Kyle had gone to Florida. Something had happened to completely tear their friendship apart—Derek said it was just that Kyle had chosen to run from accountability, but Sara knew it had to be more than that. Did Derek know he was back?

Dad snorted before taking a drink of his beer.

Mom stepped from her stool and angled herself toward Dad. “I'm glad he's home even if you aren't.” They always argued about Kyle. Dad was unforgiving about him leaving four years ago, while Mom tried to understand her son's choice.

Dad shook his head dispassionately. “I told you not to buy him a ticket.”

“You tell me a lot of things I choose to ignore. And that's my prerogative,” Mom snapped, showing a fire she'd kept hidden beneath a layer of sadness since Alex's death. Tension swirled in the room, making Sara want to crawl out of her skin.

“Like seeing a shrink,” Dad muttered.

Mom narrowed her eyes at him. “Yes, like seeing a shrink. You should try it.”

Sara looked between her parents. What was going on here? She knew things were difficult around the house—the routine they'd had for years had imploded with Alex's suicide—but was it more than that?

Dad shook his head at his beer. “No, thanks.”

Mom leaned forward on her stool, her body tight with emotion. “Rob, our son killed himself. You can't bury your head in the sand.”

Tears built behind Sara's eyes, and her throat pinched. Her senses thrummed with the need to run or jump or swing—anything to release the tension. “Dad, maybe you could go to the counselor with Mom. I think it would help.”

“It sure as hell wouldn't hurt,” Kyle said gruffly, as though he was also fighting back some emotion.

Sara had almost forgotten he was there. She ran her fingers along the edge of the counter, pressing against the smooth ridge.

Dad looked down and curled his hand around the base of his pint glass emblazoned with the Archer logo. “Look at what therapy did for Alex.” He raised his head and the look in his eyes chilled Sara to the bone. “Absolutely nothing. He killed himself in the end, didn't he?”

A darkness seemed to encompass the room. Everyone went completely still—no movement, no breathing, nothing but shock and emptiness. It felt like the day Alex had died.

Mom's hand went to her mouth. Then she turned and stalked from the kitchen.

“Brilliant move, Dad.” Hayden swore violently and left, going toward the mudroom.

Sara wished Hayden hadn't left her alone with the two men she least wanted to spend time with. She looked between them. “You're both Class-A jackasses.”

As she turned and walked from the kitchen, Kyle's voice followed her. “Hey, I'm not the one who provoked Mom!”

Maybe not, but his coming home had completely upset the apple cart. Hell, who was she kidding? The apple cart was in irreparable pieces at the bottom of a ravine.

She crossed the house to Mom and Dad's bedroom. The door was closed so she rapped softly. “Mom? It's me. Can I come in?”

She heard sniffing and a muffled response that might've been “yes.” Taking that as a sufficient affirmative response, she slipped inside and shut the door behind her.

Mom and Dad's suite was huge—bedroom, sitting room, bathroom, his-and-hers closets. Sara turned to the left and saw Mom in the sitting room perched on the edge of her favorite chair, which was situated near the tall French doors that led to a veranda overlooking the rose garden. A long, cozy couch faced the fireplace. Sara had so many memories of snuggling up there for stories or even to sleep if she'd woken up in the middle of the night. More than anything, she recalled happier times of Mom and Dad sitting there together, their legs propped on the leather footstool where they would play footsie. The vision faded, slipping away like a distant memory. Her heart constricted.

Mom dabbed at her eyes and blew her nose. “Please don't be too hard on Kyle. I know you were upset that he left so suddenly and that he rarely came home to visit.”

“So were you,” Sara gently reminded, then wished she hadn't. Being right wasn't important here. Helping Mom feel better was.

“I was. I am. I still don't understand why he went.” She looked up at Sara. “And yes, I admit I'm surprised he came back now, but I won't question it. Not when having my children around me is the only thing keeping me sane. I'm happy he's home.”

And just like that, Sara's heart broke all over again and she wondered if the pieces would ever fit back together.

D
YLAN
'
S FINGERS HOVERED
over the laptop keys as he considered how to sign his e-mail to Sara. He'd detailed the demolition of the house, which they would finish today, and plans for removing the roof in order to add on the new second story. In the end, he just typed: “Your hoodie sweatshirt is in the office if you want to pick it up. Dylan.” He hit
SEND
before he could overanalyze anything.

He felt bad about how their conversation had gone the other day, but it was for the best. They couldn't keep pawing after each other, not when neither one of them wanted anything more. A horny voice in the back of his head asked,
But if you both want the physical, why not do that?
And answered
, Because she's your boss, numbnuts
.

He pushed up from the desk just as his e-mail sounded. He sat back down and pulled it up. He ignored the shaft of disappointment when he saw it was from Tori, not Sara. He'd emailed Tori about the underground space and pitched the pub idea to her. He quickly read through her response, which was positive. She'd be back in town next week and asked if they could meet to discuss. Dylan typed in a response, feeling buoyed by the turn of events. Contracting the additional phases seemed closer than ever.