Page 38 of I Do With You

The relief lets me breathe fully, something I don’t think I’ve truly done since long before the wedding.

Mom comes closer, sitting on the arm of the couch to grip my knee. “The look on your face when you were running ...” She pauses, her emotions bubbling up, and Dad clears his throat like he’s a bit choked up too. Tears glitter in her eyes as she confesses, “It scared us so badly. That moment reframed everything we thought we knew—about you, about Roy, about the two of you together.” She goes quiet, her eyes boring into mine. “All we’ve ever wanted was for you kids to be happy, and your unhappiness was obvious to anyone with eyes. We love you no matter what, and we want what you want.”

Their support means everything to me. I don’t know why I doubted it. They’ve always had my back and done everything with my best interests in mind. I guess I worried this would be the one thing that went too far and pushed them past the point of love.

Tears burn at the corners of my eyes as I look at Mom and then wrap her up in another hug.

She’s amazing. Both she and Dad are.

“We want what you want, to a certain extent,” Shepherd amends. It’s the first thing he’s said, and when I glance at him, he’s giving Ben the stink eye. To me, he asks, “What exactly did you mean when you said the conversation ‘didn’t go well’ with Roy?”

Leave it to my brother to turn a sweet family moment into something much more worrisome. “Shepherd, don’t do anything stupid,” I warn.

“Fine, I won’t beat the shit out of him,” he promises. I’m not sure I believe him. He likes to be overly specific because it gives him deniability. If he promises to not “beat the shit out of him” and Roy doesn’tliterally poop himself in response to the fists thrown his way, then Shep upheld his vow. But that leaves a myriad of possibilities open, like beating him until he pukes, bleeds, or goes unconscious. To Shep, those would be fair game under the technicalities of the rules.

No wonder he spends so much time in the penalty box in hockey.

Ben’s been quiet for all my family drama, probably upping my rating to Kardashian-level mess, but Shepherd’s words get him to open his mouth. As he flashes a dark grin, he offers, “Or if you do, let me know and I can provide backup.”

“Don’t encourage him,” I tell Ben, but it’s too late. The line’s been drawn, and the two men lock eyes in an ages-old staring competition while they decide ...

Are we friends? Are we enemies? Is the enemy of my enemy my friend? Is the friend of my friend my enemy?

Did I miss any combinations of potential bromance or bro-hatred?

Joy fakes a Steve Irwin accent and holds up an imaginary microphone. “What we have here are two juvenile North American males, ready to fight for dominance and hierarchy. One, a local, known for his cold, calculated attacks. The other, an interloper, who may die tonight or be a surprise victor in the fight. Let’s watch.”

Shepherd digs a toe into her shoulder, sending her tumbling over to sprawl out on the floor. While she laughs, having cracked herself up, he tells Ben, “Don’t need backup. Who the hell are you, anyway?”

Is it wrong that I’m glad the focus is shifting to Ben? It probably is, considering I’m the one who dragged him here. But I’m so glad the drama of me and Roy no longer being a thing is over that even if it’s at Ben’s expense, I’m okay with the subject change. Especially since Ben shrugs like it’s no biggie to be the odd man out in a room full of Barlowes.

“Just a guy who was hiking in the woods, looking for titmice, when I got run over by this one here.” He jerks his head in my direction with a smile that makes my chest warm. He’s so much more than what he says. He’s the duct tape holding me together.

“Yeah, so this is Ben,” I add, knowing I sound foolish at the too-late introduction. “Like he said, I ran into him—literally—during my escape. I kinda, sorta invaded his cottage and then commandeered his vacation. He’s been nice enough to let me hide out with him.”

Joy sits back up, lifting her eyebrows at me pointedly. “I’m guessing there’s been some other invasions and commandeering happening too.”

“Joy!” I shout, staring at her with wide, horror-filled eyes. “Shut the fu-cupcakes.”

Why is she embarrassing me like this? Does she want me to talk about her back-seat-of-a-car, over-before-they-started “invasions”? Or the bossy boyfriends she’s had? If she wants to force me to spill some dirty details, I can return the favor with some of the intel I have about her that she’d rather not discuss in front of parentals.

“We’re all thinking it, sis,” Shep says. One second ago, he was giving Joy a hard time, and now they’ve ganged up against me. Typical.

I look at Mom and Dad for help, but they seem curious too. “He’s also not here to be interrogated by all of you. He came because we’re friends,” I say, scowling at them one by one.

“Friends who hold hands,” Joy corrects with a smug smirk. When I scowl harder, she has the audacity to laugh at me. “Hey, I already told you, I like him better than Roy, and that was after only a few minutes.” But then she sobers and pins Ben with a fierce glare. “Don’t make me regret saying that, Tourist Boy.”

“I’ve been showing him around Maple Creek.” I’m desperately trying to redirect the conversation.

“So we hear,” Joy taunts. She counts off on her fingers in a move reminiscent of Dad’s. “The diner; a boat tour; the top-secret, no-tourists-allowed beach ... People are a little salty about that one.” She purses her lips, then adds, “I hear the tour got a little interactive there.”

“You forgot the resort campfire,” Mom adds, speaking to Joy out the side of her mouth, like I can’t hear her plain as day.

“Hey! How do you know about that? It was just last night,” I say, both impressed and a little disturbed at the completeness of their checklist.

Mom drops her chin, looking at me like she raised me better than to be this stupid. “Hope, the only thing hotter than summer around here is the grapevine. There’s already been an article in the paper about you bailing on the wedding midceremony, which included newly declaring Roy the most eligible bachelor in town. My phone’s been ringing off the hook with people wanting to ‘check on us during our time of need,’ a.k.a. wanting the scoop from the horse’s mouth, but I’m no jackass, so I kept my trap shut. Not that I knew anything.” She slides that zinger into my gut clean as a scalpel. “Andeveryoneknows about your little chat at the beach because Roy went bursting into the sheriff’s office afterward to whine to his dear old daddy. Apparently, he damn-near wanted the SWAT team called out to the lake because of it too. Fool tried to imply you were being held against your will. As if,” she scoffs.

She lets that sink in, watching my jaw fall farther and farther open as she tells me about what’s been happening in town while I’ve been incommunicado. Once I’m able to focus again, she continues dropping bombs: “Kaitlyn Williams texted her momma last night saying she was hosting you and the quote-unquote ‘hottie tourist’ at the resort social and that you were the cutest thing since the invention of Squishmallows, but she had to keep you from humping each other right there in front of God and everyone. So her mother called me this morning, asking if I knew what my daughter was up to, to which I said, ‘Of course I do,’ even though I still didn’t know a damn thing.” Ouch, another slice. She blinks slowly three times, her glare silently accusing me of the worst crime of all—not telling her what’s going on with me. “Which is about when we decided enough was enough and called this family meeting.”

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