For the first time in a long time, a heaviness slides into my chest.
Instead of fighting it, I let it sit inside me and burn in its dull yet still piercing way. It’s a pain I know well. It’s an ache I avoid.
I take a deep, shaky breath and close my eyes. The words of the therapist I saw for a few months whisper softly through my brain.
“You have to feel your feelings to heal, Blaire,” she said. “Feel to heal.”
My breathing evens out as I open my eyes again. The weight still sits in the center of my chest—a lump that feels as though it’s tripled in size in seconds. With each bit of growth, it brings back memories, and feelings, that I don’t want to deal with.
The sound of my mother’s laughter. How we would spend all year planning for the long weekends we’d spend in the summer at Lake Michigan and how she’d get so excited about menu planning.
The way my father smelled like engine grease mixed with the Old Spice he’d use to disguise the smell of the cigarettes that he’d hide from my mother. The long talks we’d have while he was under a truck and I was sitting on an overturned bucket. We planned my entire life in the garage.
And then one fucked-up Fourth of July afternoon, everything I’d ever known was gone. It was ripped right out from beneath me with one hysterical call from Lance. Things have never been the same. Things will never be the same either.
I clear my throat as best as I can with a rock resting inside it.
“I have to get my shit together,” I say, turning away from the window.
My brain relies on muscle memory and switches away from all things emotional to all things practical.
“Where the heck am I going to go?”
I perch on the edge of the sofa and consider my options. Going home is out of the equation. Staying in this room is also impossible. I could visit my brothers, but that would equate to me getting zero work done because they equate me coming home to acting like children again. I could stay with Nana or I could get a hotel room in Chicago.
Or I could stay with Holt.
Would it be so awful to stay with him?
I bite my bottom lip and eye the folder on the desk.
He does work a lot, so I’d probably be able to get a lot done. And God knows I need to get a lot done. And would it be that bad to see a little of the city while I’m here?
I grin. It wouldn’t be terrible if I got a little time in his sheets either.
“What did he call it?” I ask aloud. “A multi-night stand? That’s not a bad idea. It’s really no different than dating a guy for a few weeks just to get some action even though you know it’s not going to go anywhere.”
I mull that over. The longer it marinates in my head, the more it makes sense.
And the more I like it.
I grab my phone and call Sienna. She answers on the second ring.
“You’ve called me more since you’ve been out of town than you’ve called me since I’ve known you,” she says with a laugh.
“I’ve called you twice.”
“Exactly.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “How are things back there?”
“Good,” she says sweetly. “Walker and Peck were out late last night working on a tractor in a field somewhere. They’re just dolls this morning, if you get what I’m saying.”
“Oh, I know how they can be.”
“Right. And then they went by Nana’s this morning for breakfast, and guess what they found?”
“I have no idea.”
“A man,” she squeals. “And apparently he’d stayed there all night last night. Your cousin kind of lost his mind a little bit, and Walker just got … well, grumpier. They said seeing him at Sunday dinner was one thing, but this was another. I’m totally loving it, though!”
“Wow,” I say, trying to wrap my mind around that tidbit of information. “Good for her. I’m not sure I’m ready for my grandmother to have sleepovers, but I’m sure I’m dealing with that better than my brothers and Peck.”
“I’m so happy for her. She’s been glowing lately. She deserves to be happy.”
“Absolutely.”
I chew on the edge of my fingernail as I rule out the possibility of staying at Nana’s. Listening to Sienna and Walker going at it is one thing. Potentially hearing Nana and a guy getting down is a whole other world I’m not ready to process.
That leaves two options—Holt’s or a hotel in Chicago.
“Hey, Sienna. I wanted to ask you a question.”
“Sure. Shoot.”
“How well do you actually know Holt Mason?”
Her giggle is ridiculous. I can’t help but roll my eyes.
“I know him pretty well. We grew up around their family. I know his youngest brother, Boone, the best. He’s closer to my age. But all the Masons are really familiar to me.” She smacks her lips together. “May I ask why you’re inquiring about this specific tall, dark, and handsome man?”