Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

I let that sink in for a minute. Lindsey’s right, of course. If I didn’t know that deep down, the burning sincerity in her eyes would convince me. But the reminder makes me feel mushy inside nonetheless.

It softens the shell that’s formed around my heart.

“But what about Samuel’s people?” I manage around the lump in my throat. “He loves his family, Lindsey. Like, loves them, more than anything. And I messed that up. I’m the wedge that came between Samuel and Hank.”

She offers me a small smile. “No offense, but if the Beauregards are as tight as you say they are, I don’t think your accidental love triangle situation is going to bring them down. Mistakes were made, sure. People were hurt. But I think you’re only going to end up hurting them more if you leave. Ever consider you might be more of a bridge than a wedge? What if this was always meant to happen, and Samuel and Hank were supposed to have this falling out so their relationship could become better and stronger and more true, the way it was always meant to be? Because it doesn’t sound like they’re very honest with each other. Maybe you were the nudge they needed.”

I feel the tiniest twinge of relief, and I let out a soft laugh. “What are you, a lawyer or something?”

“Meh. Not anymore, I don’t think.”

“But I fucked up so bad tonight, Linds. Isn’t that, I don’t know, exhibit A of why working with the man I love a bad idea?”

She shakes her head. “I don’t think so. One, y’all are extraordinarily upset right now, so of course you’re going to fuck up. And two, who knows what the future will bring? If the resort is expanding like you said it is, then maybe you guys will evolve into new roles. Ones that don’t require you to work side by side seven days a week. Maybe you don’t have a dream scenario right now, but you could down the line. And even if it’s a dream, it still won’t be perfect. Which isn’t a bad thing, because even perfect stories can have bad endings.”

She’s right. Again. I keep waiting for just the right position at just the right place with just the right pay, benefits, coworkers, hours…and while I don’t think I should ever stop working toward a better situation, I do need to accept that it won’t ever be perfect, and that’s okay.

I guess a part of me always believed if I landed a top job, I’ll finally be enough. I’ll make enough money and have enough stability to not be considered a joke anymore. That I’d make my parents proud the way Lindsey always does.

When really, I wasn’t a joke all along. I was just a woman working toward what her heart told her would make her happy.

I still am that woman. And I’m proud of myself for following my heart, even if most people don’t understand it.

But Samuel does understand. He appreciates it too. And that, more than anything else, is real and right.

“Just think on it, okay?” she asks. “I wouldn’t be a good sister if I let you just walk away from something that’s clearly so special. Have faith in yourself, and have faith in Samuel to make things right with Hank. Y’all know what you need to do. It’s just a matter of whether you have the courage to do it.” She gives me a tight smile, then whispers, “Spoiler alert, I think you do.”

Chapter Thirty-Five

Samuel

I open the door to find Hank and Milly on my doorstep.

“I’m here to mediate,” she explains before I can politely but firmly ask her to leave. She holds up a silver flask, monogrammed with her initials. “I also brought celebratory whiskey for when y’all make up. Which is going to happen.”

I roll my eyes and step aside to let them in. “Are you here to mediate or meddle?”

“Both.” She offers me a shit-eating grin. “You’re welcome.”

I catch Hank’s gaze as he moves over the threshold. He looks as tired and anxious as I feel. I haven’t slept much, and I’ve eaten even less.

Can’t remember the last time I felt this bad. Actually, I can, and I do not want to go there.

My first impulse is to stoke the anger churning in my gut. Anger toughens my outer shell. It’s armor that keeps me safe from scarier feelings, like sadness and pain.

But isn’t armor ultimately bullshit? It can’t protect me from myself. It certainly can’t protect me from the fallout of breaking my family apart by not letting my brother in.

The idea that I can choose to set my armor aside makes me feel soft and strong and scared.

I think about what Emma said the day after Sunday supper. Your family is great. I’d kill to have that kind of relationship with mine. You know that’s rare, right?