“Please?” Slade’s voice is a shell of the one I’m so accustom to. It’s not the commanding voice that I’ve heard in kitchens most of my early adult life. It’s not the cocky one he uses at bars, talking to women. There’s no trace of any of that and it makes the hair on my neck stand.
When I look across the table, the eyes staring back at me aren’t the stone cold, calculated ones he’s known for but instead, they’re the soft, gentle ones I remember from spending so much time in Grandma’s kitchen growing up. That pleading look tells me everything I need to know—he’s finally crumbling under the pressure of the last few months.
I’m face to face with the notion that my family is reeling today and apparently it’s not just Sisi.
I don’t say anything, just stare back at the jarring sight of my brother finally letting his guard down.
He drops his eyes and I can see his throat bob. “You’re right. I know I fucked up. I need your help though. My eyes were bigger than my stomach.” He picks at the label on his beer before looking back at me. “I’m begging you.”
I’m begging you.Those words shake me to my core. Throughout our entire childhood and all the years workingtogether, I have never seen my brother’s confidence waver. I’ve certainly never heard him ask for help, let alone beg for it.
“So, please? Help me?” he asks again.
Fuck. I prop my elbows on my knees and drop my face into my palms. There is no winner here. I can’t see how I’m going to avoid letting someone down.
CHAPTER 47
KELSEY
Walkingup to the old bar on Silver Street, a smile crosses my face when I see the neon sign in the shape of a chili pepper, alternating between red and green. The script lettering below says ‘The Hatch’, and I chuckle at the nod to the hatch chile, something Sutton said is a staple in New Mexico cuisine.
When I swing open the old door and step inside, I’m flooded with a wave of déjà vu. It feels like I walked right into Bridger’s, right down to the sticky floors and fake wood paneled walls. It makes sense why Sutton felt at home there on his first night in Jackson, because this place certainly has the right locals vibe. I walk through the bar, but don’t see Sutton anywhere. I do see Grace and TJ at the back of the bar and she waves me over.
“Hey, have you seen Sutton?” I ask.
She shakes her head and flips through the song book next to the karaoke machine. TJ stands behind her, holding her by the waist with his chin propped on her shoulder. “Nope, Sutton told TJ that they were winding down and then he’d be heading this way.”
“Thanks,” I say. “I think I’m going to try and catch him on the way here. See you back here in a bit.”
I walk out of the bar right back onto Silver Street. As much as I’d like to get a drink and hang with Grace and TJ, I want a few minutes alone with Sutton.
Even though I’ve only walked this street a couple times, I already feel like I know my way around. Or maybe, it’s that magnetic pull to Sutton I’ve felt since the night we met that guides me right to his parents’ house on the corner lot.
Seeing the house in the sunset, it’s not hard to picture him and his siblings playing in the yard growing up. That thought sits in the back of my mind when I walk through the gate in the old, white picket fence. I pass the tent that just last night was so lively and was supposed to be the site of the reception tonight. Now it sits empty and feels like a very large, visible and cruel reminder of what was supposed to be a joyous day. I’m just glad Sisi has brothers like hers because they are all so clearly loyal to each other, even if Slade is still an ass.
Two male voices behind the house cut through the quiet night and I immediately recognize one as Sutton’s. When I reach the front of the food truck, I look at it with a different appreciation. I see the potential Sutton sees in it. I see the future back home, in Jackson, that’s better than any I could have imagined.
I turn to round the front of the food truck and head toward the pool, when Sutton’s voice stops me in my tracks. I peer around the hood of the truck to see Sutton standing and pointing a finger at Slade, who’s still seated at the patio table. Everything about the scene feels off. He’s so rigid and stiff, and even from this distance, I can see how tight his grip on the back of his chair is, like he’s clinging on to life itself.
When he speaks to his brother, it’s Sutton’s voice that makes my heart lurch into my throat. Everything about it isoff. His words are clipped and terse and his normally soothing voice is harsh and agitated.
“That’s the price I’m good with. That’s my last condition for helping you.”
Slade nods solemnly at him, slumped in his chair. “I’m good with that if you are. When do you want to close on Gloria’s? We can finalize the sale whenever you want.”
Sutton sighs, but I hardly register it because did he just say what I think he said? Selling Gloria’s? That couldn’t be what I heard. There’s no?—
My thoughts are cut off by his deep, palpably irritated voice. “The sooner, the better. Let’s get this over. Get the paperwork done as soon as you can, OK?”
“Alright, alright. I’ll get right on it Monday morning.” Slade huffs a laugh. “Are you going to go tell your girlfriend now? You’re going to have to break the news to her soon enough.”
Even in the evening twilight and from this far away, I can see Sutton’s jaw tense, matching the unease coursing through every nerve in my body right now. They are talking about selling Gloria’s. This has to be some kind of mistake at best, or at worst, some cruel fucking joke.
I don’t want to be here for this conversation. I don’t want to hear these words, but I can’t bring myself to move. It’s like I’m trapped in my worst nightmare and my sleep paralysis demon has cemented my feet to this spot to make me watch.
Sutton’s shoulders rise and fall with a defeated breath. “I don’t know. That’s the last thing I want to think about right now.”
His brother just shrugs. “Come on. Maybe she’ll visit you in Seattle. I bet she’ll like the apartment.”