The Buy-In (Graham Brothers #1)(25)

“I still can’t believe you went there.” Collin stands up, pacing near the edge of the pool, dragging his hands through his hair until it stands on end.

Then he’s definitely not going to believe who I saw there. One of the rules Lindy and I had about our so-called casual relationship was no family members. No meeting them, no talking about them. Which was a challenge considering how close my family is.

After phonecallpocalypse, where Lindy told me what I now know were lies about how happy she was, I was crushed. Like, stuffed inside of one of those car compactor things CRUSHED.

And though my family may not have known her name or exactly what happened, everyone knew that someone broke my heart. My impulsivity hit all new highs. Or lows, depending on how you look at it. I made stupid decisions, like marrying Padma and getting involved with women who I knew were only interested in my fame. I spiraled from there into not caring about anything, which is not the same as my typical devil-may-care cheerful optimism.

I didn’t care about football. My health, mental or physical. My money. My contract. My future.

Why did any of it matter without HER?

My brothers began referring to Lindy as The Woman, like Irene Adler in the BBC Sherlock adaptation. I tried defending her, telling my brothers it was my fault. But they still put one hundred percent of the blame on The Woman. Maybe more like ninety percent. Because I kept telling them I screwed it up and, well, it’s not like I had a good track record before that with relationships.

I definitely can’t tell my family the reason I’m on board with Tank’s proposal is The Woman. They will lose their ever-loving minds. They’ll flunk this idea based on me. I’ll have to keep this under wraps as long as I can. Which, given my inability to keep a secret, probably won’t be long.

Harper raises one brow, and that look has the power to make me feel like I’ve been instantly mummified. I'm now a withered and shriveled and dusty old skeleton. “That’s really your excuse?” she asks. “Tank took your phone?”

“It was more like a half-kidnapping. I was under duress.”

“How does that work, exactly?” Chase is grinning. “Duct tape? Did he slip something in your drink and tie you up in the back of his SUV?”

“I wouldn’t put any of that past him. But no.” I sigh, running a hand over my face and mumbling the answer.

“What was that?” Harper said.

“Dad let me drive the Aston.”

They all groan.

“Such a low price for your loyalty,” Collin laments.

“Shut up. You’d have done the same thing.”

“No. I would have gotten behind the wheel in the Aston and driven straight to one of you to talk some sense into the old man.”

Why didn’t I think of that?

Oh. Right. Because Tank filled my head with nonsense about me being the glue and the one with vision. Then he mentioned Sheet Cake, I thought of Lindy, and I was kind of a goner.

“What do you think about his idea, Patty?” Harper asks, and the fact that she’s asking my opinion stuns all of us into silence again.

I examine the cigar in my hands, slip off the paper band, a little loose from the humidity, and put it on my finger. My pinky, because my ring finger is too big. Premature though it may be, I’m thinking about Lindy, wearing my ring and a white dress.

And I thought Tank had lost brain cells buying a town. Joke’s on me! I’m Tweedledum to his Tweedledee.

“Are you still with us, Patty?” Collin asks.

“Yep.”

At least half of me is. Because I left the rest in Sheet Cake. I’m crumpled up in Lindy’s pocket like a forgotten receipt or a bit of dryer lint. But I don’t plan to stay that way. I don’t have a strategy YET, but I’ve already got ideas popping up in my mind like moles needing to be whacked with a toy hammer.

“So,” Harper urges, “what are your thoughts?”

Even Smoky and Brutus seem to be watching me like I’m wearing a shirt made of bacon or something. I consider how I can answer this honestly, but also without revealing anything about Lindy.

“I thought Tank was joking at first. Then I thought he had a vitamin or brain cell deficiency. The jury’s out on that.” I rock back in my chair a little, staring down at the chips and cards strewn around the wooden table. “But … I’ll confess, something about the idea intrigues me.”

“Would this town”—Collin says the word like he’s talking about cow patties—“even work for Dark Horse? I mean, if James is willing to consider it with a level head.”

I scratch my chin. “It would be … a project.”

“The potential brewery location is a project? Like, the building is run down?” Harper asks.

I find myself giggling. Not chuckling. Giggling. Of all the stupid nervous tics to have, mine is one shared with little girls.

“No,” I say through my giggles. “The whole place is a project. It’s basically a ghost town. The Walking Dead without the zombies. Or without people fighting the zombies.”

Collin sits heavily back down at the table and tosses his cigar at me. It beans me in the forehead and falls to the ground. Harper snatches it up before Smoky can eat it. He is a canine garbage disposal with zero standards. He’s eaten—or tried to eat—socks, magazines, couch cushions, and doors. Yes—he ate his way through part of a door. Chase renovated their house before he and Harper got married. Then he had to keep fixing it up because of the destructive pooch.