Three Reckless Words: Chapter 20

I’m no optimist.

I’m sure everyone I know would consider me a blackhearted certified pessimist from the day I was born, but lately, there’s no denying the truth.

Things have been going remarkably smoothly ever since I spilled my guts to Winnie.

I told her the hard truth, almost everything, all the reasons why I walled myself off. And now, things are—well, they’re damn good.

Like all I needed to do was break down the last unspoken barriers between us.

She wasn’t expecting me to go there.

To talk about Rina, to cough up the past and the ugly way I feel about life.

If she were anyone else, it never would’ve happened.

But holding that broken girl in my arms with her wrecked hives must’ve rewired my brain, or at least woken me the fuck up.

Now, it’s undeniable.

There’s something about Winnie that’s worth lowering my shields.

The weirdest part is I’m not scared shitless. I have no regrets.

There’s only one last nagging talk I dread, but it feels almost manageable.

I’ve chosen a small café away from anyone connected to us. I want privacy for this.

No Junie eavesdropping over my shoulder—however well meaning—and no memories of anywhere we used to visit back when we were young and stupid.

Nothing but the present.

Just two people, who we are now, Rina and me.

It’s high time we sorted our shit out for good and leveled with the truth, assuming she’s as determined as she seems to be in Colt’s life.

So I choose a small independent place on the other side of the city with clean round tables and a small pastry case that might’ve looked impressive a few years ago. After Junie and The Sugar Bowl, it’s hard to get excited over anyone else’s sweets.

I’m nursing a cup of hot dark roast when Rina walks through the door, her shoulders tight and her brown eyes wary. I know that look.

I lift a hand, gesturing. She comes over to join me after a pause.

“Hey,” she says cautiously, taking the chair across from me.

I nod at the menu.

“You want a drink?”

“Oh, yeah. Just an iced vanilla latte, extra espresso.”

I smile as I get up because it’s the same drink she’d always order. Some things never change. But others do, and there’s that nervous hand around my throat again, stalling my words.

Fuck, I need to do this as soon as her coffee comes.

The barista is a slim girl with glasses too large for her face and an apron tied tightly around her waist. I put in the order and she makes idle small talk as she gets it going.

With Rina’s latte and a fresh refill of black coffee for me, I head back to the table.

She’s made an effort today, I see. I wonder why.

Even if we didn’t have a history between us that’s pure dry rot, after Winnie’s curves, I could never go back to anything else. Rina’s slim frame always verged on bony.

Modelesque, I used to think, back when I was younger—until she had Colt and blamed him for destroying her figure with ten or fifteen pounds of baby fat she could never lose.

She wouldn’t accept the changes to her body gracefully.

She wouldn’t accept a lot of things.

At the time, that wasn’t something I gave much thought. It wasn’t like we were having sex by then anyway.

Dead bedrooms crop up like weeds when no one’s looking. You grow apart with petty arguments and work and bigger fights you should have.

Then one day you wake up and find a roommate wearing your ring, barely putting in the effort to play house and wife.

You know she’s pretending just as hard as you.

You know you’d both rather eat a bowl of live fire ants than make love.

Today, she seems to carry herself different. I can’t quite pin it down.

Either she’s gotten back to where she wanted by dropping a few pounds or she’s finally stopped giving a damn. Because with her soft earthy colors and only a splash of her usual sea-green turquoise, she looks fine. Bird skinny doesn’t turn my crank anymore, but plenty of guys will eat it up.

Her figure aside, I think she’s been taking care of herself.

The dark hollows and puffiness I usually find under her eyes aren’t there.

She hasn’t gone for much makeup, but what little there is smooths her skin and makes her amber eyes pop in the light.

She always did have big eyes.

Once, I loved them.

Now, I watch her disinterestedly as I slide her sugary coffee across the table with the ice cubes clinking softly.

Too much has happened for me to find Rina Desmona pretty the way I used to.

That’s not why we’re here.

“Here you are,” I say. “Dripping with enough vanilla to choke a buffalo.”

“Thanks!” she says, taking a long sip as she looks around. “Gotta say, I can see why you like this place.”

I don’t really, but that’s not the point.

“I think it’s only my second time here. I’ve been expanding my horizons a little, changing it up with the local coffee scene.”

“Since your brother married that baker, you mean?”

“Yeah, Junie ruined pastries for good. It’s all about the coffee quality now.”

“God, Dexter married! I can’t even imagine.” She nods and sips her coffee. Her eyes close, then open and fix on me. “So, let’s get to it. Why are we here, Archer? Why this place?”

“It’s neutral territory. Not my place or yours.”

“But why? Why are we meeting?”

“I wanted to talk. We haven’t done much of that since you came back to Kansas City.” I lean my elbows on the table.

“Okay. So talk.” She watches me again with those big eyes in that birdlike face, but where they were swarming with secrets before, now they’re all caution.

She shrugs.

Easy for her to say. I take a swig of my coffee, searching for the right words, the script I’ve tried like hell to rehearse in my head.

“You know, when you first showed up again, I didn’t trust you one bit.”

Fuck. Not exactly the right words, but they’re true.

I know I’m doing this wrong, but there’s so much in the air.

Too much baggage.

Too much history.

Too much Colt.

“Uh, yeah. I figured,” she says evenly. “You made that clear. I get it, Arch. I do.”

“The thing is, that attitude isn’t helpful. Not for Colton and not for us.” I sweep a hand through my hair. “The mistrust—that’s what I’m talking about. The way it feels like we’re trying to make him choose.”

Rina looks at me, her thin lips pursed like she’s trying to read me.

Once upon a time, I guess she could—when we were together, she knew me better than anyone. At least, the version of me before I spent a decade hunkered down, raising a son and building a company instead of chasing wild dreams like she did.

“I was thinking that, too,” she says quietly. “I don’t want to fight anymore. I’m so over that. And you’re right, I don’t want to make him choose.”

“We can be better, Ri.”

Her brows crease as she frowns at the old nickname. “Do you know why I came back?”

I guess I’m about to learn.

I sit back, letting her talk.

“When I left Washington and went off to California and Arizona, I did a lot of reflecting. What I wanted. Who I’d become.”

I nod, taking another sip.

I think we’ve both done plenty of reflecting over the years—and if hers was anything like mine, it couldn’t have all been positive.

“I worked in Sedona the last few years,” she continues, “and the energy in the earth, the way people would come there to heal, it really made me think about my choices, my priorities. I had a son, but I hadn’t even seen him in a year.” Her eyes fill with tears. “My son, Archer. It’s like I woke up.”

Damn.

It’s like watching what happens after a light switch flips, changing her from the confident person I knew to someone so vulnerable.

But there’s nothing I can say.

She brought this on herself.

She’s not Winnie—if she was sitting in front of me, looking so pitiful, I’d have ripped apart the world to protect her.

With Rina, her pain is self-inflicted. It feels like watching some addict stranger on the street, a slave to bad habits, still begging for money.

You feel pity, sure, but it isn’t personal.

Is that what love is? This desperate need to shield Winnie from the crap in her life versus this melancholy heartache at Rina waking up to her own self-destruction?

She’s right, of course—she had a son she never fucking bothered to see.

I don’t tell her the last visit was well over a year ago.

There’s nothing I can say to make that better, to take back time.

It’s a harsh truth lodged in my throat the same way it’s blocking hers.

“I realized how screwed up my priorities were,” she says. “They were so wrong for so long… but I want you to know I’m serious. About coming back here and all, sorting out my life. Making things work. Being in Colt’s life.”

I nod once. “I’m glad. I want this to work out, too. For Colt.”

“Yeah.” The hint of a smile touches her mouth. “But you know, your instincts are pretty sharp.”

The warmth creeping through me stumbles.

Her tears have stopped welling, but there’s something else in her glassy eyes now.

Tension.

“What do you mean?” I ask warily, taking another slow sip of coffee.

“I mean, you were probably right not to trust me. Why would you after… after so many things?” She lifts one shoulder in a half shrug. “It’s not like it was deliberate, but Archer, you have to understand—I’m mad. I wasn’t seeing straight. I hate that I lost so much time. I let so much slip through my fingers and it made me a little crazy.”

I release the coffee cup so I don’t accidentally crush it.

“Crazy about what? What are you talking about, Ri?”

“I… I was there at your cabin that day,” she says. “Your mom mentioned the place. I think she was happy for you, but hearing the way she talked about you two—like Winnie was some gift dropped into your lap…” She snorts. “I knew about the bees.”

My ears are ringing.

My head feels like it’s about to implode like a tin submarine plunged too deep.

“You?” There’s a sinking boulder in my gut. “It was you?”

“No, not exactly. Not like—” This time when she shakes her head, the movement is jerky. She’s bitter, but it’s aimed at herself, I realize. “You know, I almost didn’t come here to meet you and tell you.”

“Don’t fuck with me, Rina,” I say, my voice low. “Tell me what you did.”

All this time, I was so sure it was Winnie’s ex, but if the great bee massacre was fucking Rina this whole time—isn’t that what she’s working up to?

Fuck.

My stomach churns with bile.

“I was trying to psych myself up to do it,” she whispers. “I… I had a whole box of poison canisters. I was going to spray them down one by one. Figured that would teach your little girlfriend to mess with this family—and you.” She laughs, but the sound is empty this time. “No, this isn’t about you, Arch. I don’t give a shit who you date, even if she’s half your age.”

The bitterness in her tone says she cares more than she lets on.

It’s a Herculean effort not to yell, not to throw my coffee over her head, not to stand up and roar at her to never show her face anywhere near me again.

“Leave Winnie out of this, Ri—or I swear to God you’ll regret it.”

“I already do! That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” she flares, her eyes brimming with tears again. She blinks them away impatiently.

I watch, impassive, unable to bear the idea of her hurting Winnie like this.

That’s when my brain turns back on.

She said poison, didn’t she? The bee boxes were smashed. There weren’t even many dead bees mixed in with the debris.

My brain struggles to make sense of it.

“It was Colt who pushed me over the edge.” Her voice cracks. “He… he kept talking about Winnie like he already knows her better than me, his own mother. And you, being around her, looking so happy like you’re just bursting with glee… I was losing my family.”

“A family you walked away from.” My voice is raw, wounded.

“I know! And… and I regret that more than you can ever imagine, Archer. Seeing you all together, hearing Colt talk—God, he won’t shut up about her—it just made me rage. So I went out there. I was going to spray those stupid bees and let her find them dead in their nests.” She heaves a sigh so heavy it sounds like an exorcism. “But I couldn’t do it.”

“Fuck you mean?” I’m snarling every word.

“I was there and I—I just couldn’t make myself kill them. Not because it’s a crime, but because I realized how insane I was being. But then I was about to go and I saw this man pull up. He was wearing thick gloves and he looked really angry. He walked in like he owned the place, carrying this giant hammer. First, he broke into the shed, and I think you know the rest. He did it all for me. I put my anger out into the universe and the universe answered. Even if I didn’t lift a finger, the bees were destroyed, no different than if I did the smashing myself.”

Holden. So it was that entitled little fuckwit after all.

But that doesn’t stop my anger, knowing she sat me down and put me through all of that, dragging it out for her own damn pity party. And then having the gall to attach some New Agey moral to her story.

Even the pain etched on her face can’t stop me from spiraling.

One look at her face and the way she’s pressed her lips together, the way her eyelids flicker, tells me she wasn’t doing this for fun.

I don’t give a damn.

She drew this out because it was too fucking hard for her to tell me straight.

Yeah, she knows me, but I know her, too.

The little things—the things that don’t change, like the sound she makes when she cries or the way her eyes crease when she lies.

She’s not lying now.

“Why did you tell me?” I demand, my voice gruff. “Rina, what the fuck?”

It’s too much.

Finding out my ex-wife hates my new girlfriend so much that she was seconds away from destroying the one thing Winnie loves more than life. It’s the most ridiculous shit I’ve ever heard and I’m pissed as hell.

“You asked me to come here because you wanted to tell me that you’ve forgiven me, right?” she says. “Or at least, you’re trying to. Isn’t that it, Archer?”

I go still.

That’s not what I was telling her.

Or hell, maybe it was at first, in my own muddled roundabout way.

“So, what? You figured you’d give me some crazy story about how you almost broke Winnie’s heart?”

“I gave you the truth. It’s all you deserve and all I can offer. You have a family now—a normal one—and my feelings are the last thing that should get between you and your happiness. Or Colt’s, or even Winnie’s.” Her gaze slides to the side. “Look, I know the way I left. Some things can’t be undone after that. I know, Archer.”

Just like before, I don’t know what to say.

My throat feels parched with hot rage and I don’t think more coffee will fix it.

“I want you to be happy,” she says. “In time, I just hope we’ll have an understanding. I hope you’ll feel more comfortable with me being in Colt’s life again.”

After everything she’s said, I don’t know if that will ever happen.

On the other hand, she told me. A horrible secret she could’ve easily kept to herself.

I’m so fucking conflicted it feels like my head might pop off.

When I say nothing, she gets the hint, standing and excusing herself.

With burning eyes, I watch her leave, the bell ringing over the door.

I keep staring even after she’s out of sight, waiting for this whole situation to start making sense, and hating that it won’t.

My phone blows up with voicemails before I reach the office.

All from Dex, weirdly angry, rambling on about some regulatory notice.

What the hell? I listen twice, but I’m way too busy thinking about Rina’s meltdown to really comprehend his message.

The fact that she told me all this shit about the bees and Winnie…

I can’t decide if it’s a huge red flag or a green one, or whether I’d be the crazy asshole to leave Colt alone with her in the future.

When I finally get to Lee’s Summit, still consumed with Rina and Winnie and Colt, Dexter and Patton are waiting in my office.

Pat’s pacing and Dexter stands there like a statue.

Both of them stare at me as I head through the door, right before Dexter slams a thick printout onto the table.

“Explain this,” he demands.

I pick it up and skim the first page.

It’s a notice from the Attorney General’s office, Carroll Emberly III. A legal notice announcing an antitrust probe against Higher Ends. A big old stack of legal bullshit no doubt explaining all the ways Carroll Emberly intends to fuck me very personally by proxy for preventing him from controlling his daughter.

“What the hell?” I flick through the pages, working deeper, even though I can guess what it’s going to say.

A lawsuit.

A dick-shitting lawsuit.

All because I went and pissed off Mr. Big Shot AG by giving Winnie breathing space.

“Holy shit.” Pat resumes pacing when he sees the worried look on my face. He’s usually the more relaxed one, armed with ten dumb jokes, so the fact that he’s this agitated says everything. “Holy fucking shit, this is bad.”

“Who does he think he is?” Dexter says. “This is bullshit.”

“What are we going to do, guys?” Patton tugs at his hair. “What right does this asshole have to throw this at us?”

I lean against the table and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to figure out a way we can get around it. Unlike the other two, I have some idea why this is happening.

“If this succeeds, it’s going to be hell to pay,” Dexter fumes. “Do you know how much we could lose? Even if we win, the legal fees alone will drag us down, and it could go on for years.”

“Let’s not get carried away,” I say, holding up a hand. “It’s going to be all right.”

Patton turns on me. “Easy for you to say, Arch. There’s no quick fix for this shit.”

Believe me, I know.

But between Patton and Dexter I’m the calm one, the older brother who’s intelligent and in control. I do my best to play the part, even though the only thing I want to do is rip something apart with my bare hands.

Fuck!

“Listen to me,” I say loudly. To my surprise, they both stop and stare. “We set our legal dogs to work. We’re going to pad our team with as many lawyers as it takes to shoot this down out of the gates. We won’t let it get off the ground. You hear me?” I slice my hand through the air. “No way.”

“No way in hell,” Patton repeats.

I shake my head.

The temptation to punch something is almost unbearable.

Pushing away from the table, I pace across the room.

“What a bitter, controlling little troll her old man must be to pull this,” I mutter. “I can’t even imagine one man being so petty.”

“What?” Dexter says, his voice quiet. “Whose dad?”

“Do you need to ask, Bro?” Patton laughs harshly. “Little Miss Honeybee. It’s obvious. She comes along, kicks up trouble, and then daddy swoops in to sue the blood out of us.”

Dexter looks at me, waiting for confirmation. “Her father is Carroll Emberly the fucking Third?”

I nod. No point in hiding the truth now.

“Goddamn, Archer!” he snaps. “Didn’t you think it might have been useful to know that before?”

“And the fact that she’s in a family feud,” Patton says, slapping the back of his hand against the pile of papers. “This kind of shit follows you like a vulture.”

I fold my arms. “It’s none of your business, boys.”

“None of our business?” Patton narrows his eyes. “You’re calling this none of our business when it’s lighting our entire company on fire?”

“We’d have helped her anyway,” Dexter says with a sigh. “We wouldn’t have turned her away. But fuck, man. At least if we’d known, we might have been prepared for this.”

My cheeks balloon as I let out a sigh.

Maybe these two clowns have a point.

I told Winnie my brothers and I are close. Her private life is none of their business, but the fact that her father is after her definitely is now.

“I’m sorry.” I hold up my hands. “I should’ve told you sooner.”

“Damn right.” Patton’s still seething, and I can’t blame him.

“Did you know this was coming?” Dexter asks.

“No, of course I didn’t.” I scrub my face with my hands. “If I’d known, I’d have told you, all right? I’m not that big an asshole.”

Patton snorts, and Dexter leans his hip against the desk.

“We need a plan, Arch,” he says. “How do we combat this?”

“We own a billion-dollar company.” I keep my voice calm even though I want to hurl things at the floor. Maybe scream down the phone at Carroll fucking Emberly for going full vengeful psycho. “We have money to throw at it. We can beat it.”

“Money doesn’t make this shit go away,” Patton says. “Politicians and lawyers, they don’t care about profits. They’ll drag it out for years just for the misery factor, never mind flexing their dicks.”

I fucking hate that he’s right.

If I stay in this room with them any longer, though, I’m going to lose it.

After coming back from the damn meeting with Rina to this, my nerves are too raw.

I need to deal with this, but not fucking here.

A text pings my phone and I look at it absently. It’s from Colt.

Winnie took me to Grandma’s art fair. There’s a craft stand with bees and carvings!!! Can you meet us at the river market soon?

It’s a flimsy excuse, but it’ll do.

“That’s Colt. I’ve got to go,” I say, pocketing my phone again.

Both Dex and Patton glare at me like I’m number one on their eternal shit list.

The last thing they need is me bailing when I’m the reason this fire started. I never bail unless they’re being stupid.

Always a first time for everything, I guess.

“Look,” I say, losing some of my cool, “I know I fucked up. I made the company a target and that’s on me. I’ll make sure I un-fuck it, too. I’ll get started tonight.”

Before they can say anything, because they’re my brothers and don’t know how to keep their mouths shut, I walk out and let the door slam shut behind me.

“Fuck,” I hear Patton yell.

Yeah, fair enough.

My head aches as I head back to the car. I don’t usually feel like this when it comes to Higher Ends, but this is one crisis where I have no idea what I’m doing.

Logically, I do. I know the next move. But this whole thing isn’t run by logic alone, and neither are my feelings.

Holy shit, what a mess.

And right now, it’s a disaster I can’t clean up.

I slam my hands against the steering wheel.

Colt’s text sits accusingly in my pocket.

Goddamn, I knew it was too good to be true.

Over the last few days, I thought everything with Winnie was settling down, but now this veneer of normality—the fucking art fair—feels like having a time bomb ticking away under the dinner table.

What will having a real relationship with a sweet, innocent young woman do to the people I love?

What the hell will this attraction to Winnie Emberly cost me?