Pressure Point (Point #2) (24 page)

It’s after Zoe’s recounted my mother’s wacky sense of style—mixing bright patterns with colorful scarves and costume jewelry—that I decide to share what I’ve brought Zoe.

“Is something wrong?” Zoe’s words slur together, but I forget to lecture because I’m a hitch nervous and a little sloppy myself.

I prop my elbow on the bar and rest the top of my head in one palm. “I have a gift for you, but I don’t want you to be mad that I didn’t give it to you sooner.”

“That’s something different; usually I was the one getting into trouble.” A trickle of loud laughter escapes, showing her level of inebriation. I’d put her a couple drinks past tipsy. “What is it?”

Standing up, I fish something a small box from my denim pocket and gently place it in front of Zoe as I did with the cupcake.

It takes a second for her to open the box and as soon as she does, her hand flies to her open mouth. Inside is our mother’s bright, white diamond wedding band. I’ve been holding onto it for years, waiting for the right time. Now that my sister is on her own, it’s a pillar of strength that I want her to carry at all times.

“I wanted to give it to you when you got engaged. Seemed like you could use it more now.”

One tear escapes, snaking down her cheek.
Shit.
I didn’t want to make her cry.

“Thank you, Blake, thank you.” She fits the ring onto her middle finger and I let out a breath, pleased that she’s not upset that I kept it from her.

“This is the most meaningful gift I’ve ever gotten.” She stands to hug me, throwing her arms around my neck and gripping me tightly. She repeats her thanks three times over from where her head rests against my shoulder.

The sisterly embrace lasts one second too long. Bright lights from a cell phone camera flash from across the bar, and she hops away, worried about the potential social media implications. They’re too fast with the picture for me to see where it came from, but I reassure my sister anyway.

“We’re fine; camera was pointing at some girls. Let’s get out of here,” I suggest mildly.

After an awkward exchange with the beefy bartender, I steer my stumbling, happy drunk sister outside.

When she was ten years old and had just lost her parents, Zoe leaned on me. Emotionally, I became her rock and oftentimes, like she does now, Zoe tucks herself against my side and lets me carry the brunt of whatever she’s facing. Being her caregiver, support network, and place of peace gave me meaning for so long. Even now, when she laughs as we stumble along the beach, I’m thrilled to be her crutch but a flash of uncertainty passes through me. How long can I fulfill this role for my sister? What about my needs?

With uncoordinated hands, Zoe unlocks the back door and ushers me inside her home. She gives a wobbly goodnight and disappears up the staircase across from the kitchen, leaving me staring at the marble countertop and thinking about my girlfriend.

Fuck.
My girlfriend. I haven’t called her all day. Yanking my phone from my pocket, I’m chagrined to find a missed call and voicemail from Stella. Her melodic, sweet voice sends a calming wave through my tense shoulders as I listen to her message.

“Blake, it’s Stella.”
As if I wouldn’t recognize her voice.
It’s the most soothing, gentle tone I’ve ever heard. “I know that you’re with Zoe today, and I’m sorry to bother you, but I wanted to call and check in. It’s a hard day and I’m thinking about both of you. I hope you’re…I hope you’re okay, Blake. And if you need anything, call me. I’m going to bed now, but I’ll leave my ringer on for you.”

The phone hits the countertop with a clank. There’s no woman better than Stella Baccino, I’m sure of it. I’m upset with myself for missing her phone call, but I know that she’ll understand. Her message said as much. I decide not to wake her; I’ll call her back tomorrow.

The next morning, I rise before my sister and decide to make her favorite chocolate chip pancakes. I shoot off a quick message to Stella before I get into my car.

Got your message, Snow White, thank you. I’ll be here for the morning then back to the city tonight. I’ll come over.

The response comes instantly.

Okay. Can’t wait to see you. :)

Smiling at the prospect of spending an uninterrupted evening with my girl, I don’t notice much around me as I seek out the ingredients for breakfast on autopilot.

“Find everything okay?” a bored clerk asks when I drop the groceries on the conveyor belt.

My good mood hasn’t dimmed and I’m grinning like a fool when a sharp shoulder rams into me from behind. I jerk around in shock to find some dude glowering at me.

“Watch where you’re going,” I bark.

The guy’s furious—over what, I have no idea—but the tension radiating off him is palpable. Shoulders tense, jaw locked in place, he shows all the signs of wanting a fight, but I’m in no mood for this shit. He doesn’t say a word, staring at me sharply. I shake my head and turn around to complete my purchase. I don’t like the idea of my sister hanging around a town with pricks like this. When I walk out of the store, I throw one more biting look in his direction, only to find the guy staring at his hands dazedly. I let it roll off my shoulders; there are more important things for me.

Back at the house, I see Zoe stumble out to the deck and drop into one of the dining chairs. Pancakes don’t take long to make and soon I’m joining her, setting the table and finally presenting the food on the center of the table.

“Not feeling so hot this morning, are we?” Amusement laces my tone. “Drink your juice.”

“Blake?” she mumbles, scrubbing a hand across her face while I serve her.

“Cupcake?”

“As much as I needed you yesterday, you know that I’m an adult-ish now, right?” She smiles tentatively, but it doesn’t lessen my shock or instant burst of anger.

A deep frown settles on my face. “Adult-
ish
is right. Why are you bringing this up?”

“When we are together, it’s easy for us to drift back into our old habits.” She gestures at the food. “You slip back into the father role, and I let you.”

I visibly flinch; the words strike me as if she’d slapped me. After everything, it sounds like she doesn’t want me around. That wounds me, straight to my heart. “What are you trying to say, Zoe?”

“It’s impossible to describe just how thankful I am to be your sister.” That slightly mollifies me and some of the tension dissipates.

“I have to fix myself now, Blake. You’ve given me the tools to do it, now it’s on me to finish my recovery.”

“Yet you haven’t called Dr. Greene’s recommended therapist,” I muse, splashing syrup over my pancakes and then roughly cutting into them.

“Let me make the decisions and just support me.”

My grasp on the fork tightens then I drop it with a clatter. “I’ve only ever wanted what’s best for you, Zoe.” I feel defensive and I’m not sure why.

“I know that, Blake, I do. What’s best for me now is to stand on my own. Prove to myself that I am an adult capable of solving my own problems. Give me the space to heal
;
that’s all I’m asking. Trust me.” She stares deep into my eyes, imploring me to understand. The tactic worked when she was sixteen and wanted to go out with friends and has a similar effect now. I relax slightly.

“I do trust you, but that doesn’t mean that I won’t continue to check on you. You’re…” A tight smile stretches across my face. “You’re the most important person my life, Cupcake. When that fucker pointed a gun at you, I realized just how fragile life is. Admittedly, I’ve gone a bit overboard with my protective gestures, but my heart is in the right place. Mom left you to me to care for, and it’s my job to protect you.”

“You have protected and cared for me, Blake, given me a life worth living. But now it’s time for both of us to live more independently. You haven’t had a real girlfriend in years.”

I try to come off unaffected when I scoff, “I date.” Inwardly, I know this would be a good time to reveal my relationship with Stella. But, somehow, the timing still feels off. And I’m wondering if Stella even wants Zoe to know about our relationship.

Thankfully, Zoe shifts the subject. “And, so you know, I called Dr. Wilson’s office while you were at the grocery store this morning and left a message. I’ll make an appointment as soon as they call back.” That’s the therapist in New Point, who she needs to start seeing. Hearing this pleases me.

“Good,” I grumble, thinking of the strange interaction at the grocery store. “I’m not convinced that this is the right place for you; people aren’t so welcoming.”

“What do you mean? Everyone I’ve come across has been friendly and so pleased to have a new librarian. Sure, some were a little too curious for my liking, but that’s small town culture, I guess.”

“This morning when I was food shopping, some dick rammed his shoulder into me as I was checking out and acted like I had walked into him. I’ve never experienced anything like it.” Deep down, I knew it wasn’t a big deal, but still, I bring it up.

“Are you making this up to suggest that I go back to Chicago with you?”

I shrug casually. “No, it’s a true story, but more likely his attitude had something to do with the team winning the championship again.”

“Arrogant much?” she teases and all is right between us.

Now I can get back to my girl and my universe will be in order.

Stella

Ping!

With a frustrated sigh, my gaze snaps to an incoming email notification appearing at the bottom of the computer monitor. Another email from Ryan Sullivan. He’s an over-emailer. He doesn’t plan what he wants to stay, just spits out notes to me at random. Messages come two minutes apart, each with its own thought. I’ve got a stack of requests for phase two of the Chicago Center project.

Longingly, I look at the clock. It’s almost seven on a Monday night and I’m still at work. In the summer, no less. These days, I’m spending more time wondering why I haven’t started looking for a new job than feeling accomplished at Speck. It’s the damn challenge from Katya that’s keeping me here. When I get the promotion, I’ll prove to myself and everyone at this company that… Yeah, the justification is falling flat even to my own ears. Truthfully, I’m sticking with this project because I imagine if I leave mid-assignment, Blake will think I’m a quitter.

Blake’s opinion of me has been harder to gauge than ever because he’s spending most of the summer traveling for work or visiting Zoe. He mentioned once in passing that she has a new boyfriend, Miles, and he wants to get to know him better. It stung like a rose thorn caught in your fingertip that she was in a serious relationship and I didn’t know the guy. But what hurts the most is the chasm separating Blake and I. He still hasn’t suggested sharing our relationship with his sister, and I’m starting to wonder if it means that he isn’t serious about me.

My heart lurches. I’m completely hopeless. Fallen for Blake Campbell with no chance of ever escaping his grasp. All the hubbub that my mom told me over and over makes me believe down to the deepest parts of my soul that Blake is the one for me. He’s the only one I’ve ever truly wanted and the only one I will
ever
want. And yet, I don’t trust that he returns my feelings.

Blake’s nose must be itching, because my cell awakens with an incoming call from him. The last time that I saw him was Tuesday of the previous week.
If you were a priority, he’d make time for you
, a pesky voice whispers.
If he loved you, he’d never want to be apart from you.

“Or maybe I’m too available to him,” I grumble to myself as I consider declining the call. Who am I kidding? “Hi there.”

“What’s up, baby?”

“Still at work,” I say on a sigh.

“When you get out, come over.” He’s bossy, alpha, demanding. I eat it up. I want to eat
him
up.

“Is that a command or a request?”

“Stella Baccino, would you please delight me with your company this evening? I haven’t seen my girl in a week, and I’m having withdrawal symptoms.”

My heart flutters in my chest. How can he dispel all of my insecurities with a few simple words? It’s like he has a radar detecting when I’m uneasy. Then, he shoots arrows straight through the bubbles of uncertainty.