Page 76 of How to Kiss a Hawthorne Brother
“I thought you might drive straight into the side of the kitchen,” he says dryly. “Feeling a little blustery this morning?”
“It’s almost noon.”
He shifts his bowl to one hand and pulls his phone out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. “So it is.” He holds up his bowl. “Cereal?”
For making some of the most incredible food I’ve ever eaten, when he isn’t working, Lennox has a surprisingly simple palate. Cereal. Fruit. Ham sandwiches.
I shake my head. “What are you doing here? Are you living here?”
“The apartment’s empty. So yeah, temporarily. I was tired of living with Perry, and I still haven’t found my own place.”
“Julien moved out? Did he quit?” Julien has been the catering chef at Stonebrook as long as we’ve had a commercial kitchen on site.
I finally climb out of the Gator and follow Lennox inside.
“Didn’t quit, but he’s retiring at the end of the summer. He bought a house on Lake Summit.” I follow him up the stairs to the small apartment above the kitchen. “Where were you last night?” he asks. “I thought you might bring Kate.”
Kayaking was a convenient excuse to miss the family Fourth of July gathering, but I’m not sure I would have wanted to go regardless. Not with the way everyone has been watching and worrying about me and Kate. “I texted Mom. I was kayaking.”
He moves into the kitchen and drops his cereal bowl into the sink. “Sounds like a convenient excuse. Why did you leave early last Sunday?”
I slump onto the couch in the living room. “Olivia was being dumb to Kate.”
He sits down on the chair opposite me and leans onto his elbows. “She’s worried about you. And based on how you’re acting right now, I’d say she’s justified.”
“I’m fine,” I say. “I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Except you’re here, so you clearly want to talk about something.” He reaches forward and slaps the side of my knee. “Want me to call Perry? The fence at the back of the east orchard needs some posts replaced. Want to help?”
There are plenty of farmhands at Stonebrook who could handle this sort of thing. But this wouldn’t be the first time we’ve found something to do around the farm just for the sake of doing the work. When we were kids, whenever Dad wanted us to talk,he always found some chore for us to do, said working with our hands made it easier to work out our thoughts.
I sigh. “I could fix a fence.”
“Good. Perry was planning on showing up at your place in half an hour anyway. I’ll call him and tell him you saved him the trip.”
“You were already planning this?”
“How else would I know there’s a fence that needs repairing? I don’t pay attention to that kind of crap.” He disappears into the back room and emerges a minute later wearing jeans and a dark gray t-shirt, a pair of work boots in his hand. The image makes me grin. Lennox created a sleek and shiny existence for himself when he was working in Charlotte. After winning an episode ofChoppedon Food Network, he turned into something of a local celebrity. He even did a few cooking segments on the morning news. He ate up the attention, his life—and his wardrobe—getting fancier by the minute. But all that glitz and glamour doesn’t change the fact that he grew up on a small-town farm, mending fences, feeding baby goats, and fishing in the creek every Sunday afternoon. He might look like he belonged in that fancy life—and maybe he did. But he belongs here too.
He drops into a kitchen chair to put on his boots. I look down at my own shoes. I’m dressed more for working out than I am farm labor, but I’ll manage.
“Perry and I worked it all out last night,” Lennox finally explains. “You’ve been dodging our calls, cutting out early on family meals, skipping annual family traditions. We figured somebody had to save you from yourself.”
“Why do I feel like I just walked into a trap?”
He grins. “You did. But don’t lie to yourself about it. You know you need us, or you wouldn’t have come over.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brody
Half an hour later,the three of us are driving a Stonebrook Farm truck out to the fence at the east edge of the apple orchard that separates the fruit trees from the rolling pastureland where Mom’s goats graze. Perry is driving, and Lennox and I are riding in the back with the fence posts, rails, and tools we’ll need to replace the rotting posts with new ones.
Perry pulls the truck to a stop, and Lennox tosses me a pair of work gloves. “Let’s get to it.”
We work in silence for close to half an hour, the sun beating down on our backs. It’s nice to feel like I’m doing something productive. This one small thing—fixing a fence line with my brothers—is something I can control. At least for now.
Perry and Lennox don’t push me, but I don’t miss the looks passing between them.
