Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Hank

I can’t have the girl.

But I can have the kind of life she told me about. I’ll give it the old college try anyway. Because right now, work is the only thing that might get me back on my feet. Once I’m up and running, I’ll feel better.

When the fuck am I gonna feel better?

My eyes burn with exhaustion as I step into Blue Mountain’s offices in a wing of the main house. I’m immediately greeted by the familiar smells of burning wood and whiskey. Milly passes by, stopping to give me a quick hug even though she’s on the phone. Christopher holds out his hand and says what everyone else does—that they’ve missed me and they’re glad I’m back.

For a heartbeat, the heaviness in my chest lifts.

I’m glad I’m back too. I’ve missed this place. The bustle, the people, the food, the cocktails, and the heady buzz the resort seems to generate all on its own.

I’m lucky to have this place and this job to come back to. A lot of my former teammates don’t have a place to land. Many are married and settled, but they have no idea what to do about their future in terms of purpose or employment.

I’ve got both right here in front of me. With Stevie’s ideas about balance in my pocket, I feel more confident than ever I’m gonna like heading up guest relations.

This part of my life will (hopefully) click into place. I just wish I could shake the sense that something is missing. That I’m very much back to where I started before I left Blue Mountain.

Fell for a chick I can’t have? Check.

Empty house? Check.

Family treating me like a grenade about to go off?

Actually, I won’t put a check next to that one. When I walk into Beau’s office, he doesn’t look at me with sympathy, or judgment, or even annoyance.

He looks relieved. Excited, even.

I feel like the world’s biggest shithead. He only thinks I’m okay because I lied to him about having a girlfriend and having my life together.

What kind of person lies to his family over and over?

Not a happy one, I know that much.

My face burns with shame.

Beau’s standing behind the desk. He’s wearing his usual puffer vest and backward hat, hair curling out around his ears. He flips through a sheaf of papers, smiling at me. “Still hungover?”

“Guess so.” I run a hand over my jaw. I showered and shaved not half an hour ago, but I still feel grubby. “Still on West Coast time, I think.”

He sets down the papers. “I think you miss your girl.”

My chest twists. I clear my throat and glance out the windows behind my brother. “Of course I miss Stevie. I hate that—” Jesus fuck, I hate so much about our situation. But I go with: “I hate that we don’t live closer.”

“Long distance is a beast. But y’all can do it. You’re obsessed enough with each other.”

I shove my hands in my pockets. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” He cocks a brow. “I don’t like that answer.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I don’t either, but it is what it is.”

“What does that mean?”

It means I wasn’t going to start planting the seeds of my fake breakup with Stevie until later, maybe a week or two down the road, but pretending is starting to feel really, really awful.

I just want to rip the Band-Aid off and be done with it. But that would be suspicious—my family, Milly especially, is smarter than that—so I guess I’m stuck in this hellish in-between for a bit.

Fun times.

“Means I’m tired and hungover, and I really wish I woke up next to Stevie this morning.” The words come out roughly, which is ironic because it might be the only bit of truth I share about my feelings today.

Beau’s expression softens. “That blows. I’m sorry, brother. You’d think I’d be more sensitive about this shit, considering Bel and I pretty much had a long-distance relationship for, oh, a decade or so.”

I grin, relief flooding my gut at the change in subject. “You were a fucking idiot.”

“Yup. Which is why I’m not gonna let you make the same mistake.” He claps his hands and rubs them together. “Staying busy helped me, so I’m thinking it’ll help you too. Shall we begin negotiations?”

“Fuck yeah, we shall.”

Beau hits a button on his phone and asks his assistant to send Gregory in. A minute or two later, my former assistant walks through the door and offers me a smile.

“Good to see you, man,” I say, giving his hand a firm shake. “Thanks for holding down the fort while I was gone. I really appreciate it.”

“Happy to help. Although I gotta say I’m real glad you’re back. This job is no joke.”

“I hear you. That’s what I wanted to talk about, actually. I’ve been thinking a lot about it, and I’ve decided it’s really a two-person job. If you’re down, I’d like to chat about you and me tackling it together.”