Page 25 of Take the Blame (Seaside Mergers #3)

Gulping a large swig of bubbles, I let the sting touch all the way to my ears before I cleared my throat. “We like to believe she’s okay. We don’t know for sure, but she left. She wasn’t taken, so… We can only hope.”

“And you haven’t been in contact with her since?”

“Obviously not.”

“How’s that obvious to me? I haven't seen your ass in years. Or did you forget you ghosted me too?” he grumbled.

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I had to. I just couldn’t take all this shit without her, you know. I grew up with her. We had each other for so long and then we just didn’t. I don’t know, it’s whatever now.”

Quiet slipped over us for a long moment. I felt his eyes on me, heavy with something contemplative that made me wonder what he was thinking. Was he pitying me? Was he trying to find out what to say?

Finally, he slapped a hand down on the table and sucked in a long breath. Steeling himself for something . What, I didn’t know.

“You remember my sister?” he suddenly asked.

“Yeah,” I replied slowly, though I didn’t remember much.

From what I could recall, back then she was a quiet girl who Clay lamented would never stop following him around.

Then she grew into the quiet girl Clay complained he always had to look out for because she wouldn’t stand up for herself.

Then she was soon not talked about at all.

“Remember how I used to talk about her and then I stopped?” he continued.

I nodded. He let out a long, long breath.

“Yeah well, I stopped because for a long time we lost contact. She married into this contract with a family here and went dark. We thought she hated us because my brothers and I didn’t really stand up for her with our parents and basically let her get sold away to some guy way older than her.

But it turns out she was being…” he cleared his throat, his eyes falling, his fist clenching along the table.

“Turns out it wasn’t her shutting us out.

She was just married to a really bad guy. ”

My mind reeled as I took him in. Looking at the rigid anger that was coursing through his body, I felt a familiarity toward it. Because it was the same hateful helplessness I felt whenever I thought about my own circumstances.

“How long?” I asked. “How long did you not hear from her?”

“Five years,” he said. “We were lucky. The old bastard died and we got her back.”

“Isn’t she married now, though?” I asked, remembering Alta’s whole explanation of how she knew Clay.

“Yeah. Another whole mess, but Ox is a much better guy. He loves her more than anything. It wasn’t easy, but it all worked out.”

“Damn,” I breathed.

“Yeah,” he mimicked. He looked at me. “I’m not telling you this to compare sob stories. I’m just letting you know, I understand. The guilt, the shame, the anger, and the not knowing most of all. You don’t seem like you want to talk about it, but if you ever do…”

“Yeah, I got you,” I said. “Thanks.”

He hummed but soon his hazel eyes turned up with the appearance of his smile. “Speaking of a certain family. What’s up with you and Fernandez?”

“Alta?” I asked, blood running hot at the mention of her name. Damn, I was trying to forget her today, because all thoughts of her led to thoughts of that kiss that led to thoughts of what I wanted to do with her the next time I—I cleared my throat. “What about her?”

He snorted. “Smooth man, truly.”

“What?” I straightened. “She helps out at the shop. What more is there to say?”

“You can say why you were going to bite my head off for her the other day.” He smiled. “You could also explain why the fuck you were watching her like a guard dog on the clock.”

“I watch out for my people, that’s all that is,” I said.

I heard the bullshit as it left my mouth, but what else was I supposed to say?

It wasn’t like we were together, I had barely gotten her to smile at me in a year.

And now I’d all but offered myself on a pyre just for a touch. So really what could I say?

I’m a common person seeking the touch of an angel? Check .

I’m desperate and she’s too good for me? Check .

I’d be happy with scraps if that’s all she gave me? Check, check, and check.

Nope. I couldn’t tell him what I couldn’t even tell her.

So I was just left with silence between us.

Clay’s stare was loud enough, practically screaming that he was onto my bullshit.

“Yeah, alright. Just be careful. You’re messing with Seaside’s sweetheart right there.

You mess up with her and her family will have your ass. ”

“Yeah?” I asked. “They’re pretty protective?”

It’s not like I needed an answer to that.

I’d seen the way her brother stepped in front of her when he thought I was a mere stranger on the street.

I also noticed the constant text breaks to check in with this brother or that sister.

The stolen calls with her mom or dad. They loved her something fierce, even though that love was suffocating the shit out of her.

“Damn right,” he said.

“And what’s she to you?” I couldn’t stop myself from asking it. I remembered the way he’d slung his arm around her shoulder at the festival. The familiar way in which they spoke. I had to know.

He smiled. Cat meet canary. “I watch out for my people too, and lately I’ve had to add a few more to the list.”

I nodded. Message received. “Brother in law of sorts,” apparently meant he wasn’t going to stop me, but he cared about her enough to warn me. Good, I guess.

“You know you’re an asshole for calling her Atlas, right?” I said. He laughed instantly, his head tipping back in amusement. I shook my head. “A fucking menace, Ferguson.”

“Yeah well, she told me to fuck off now,” he shrugged.

I doubted that’s what she said. I actually think I’d heard the word ‘please’ come out her mouth—We’d have to work on that, but it was a good enough start. “Damn right she did. Are you going to listen?”

He twisted his mouth, tilting his head and looking up his shoulder at me. “See for yourself. We all have dinner sometimes or just hang out. You should come by.”

My throat stuck, my response feeling caught in it as I pictured sitting around a table with Clay’s family. Meeting his sister who he’d lost but had somehow gotten back. Not to mention Alta probably didn’t want me anywhere near her family.

I shook my head. “Ah, I dunno Ferguson. I’m not much of a family guy these days.”

“I’ve noticed,” he said, and it was the seriousness in his tone that caught my attention. “So you’re just not…”

“Don’t want to talk about it, Clay,” I said, knowing for a fact he was going to ask about my family. “Don’t want to talk about them.”

Another humming sound is all he supplied before nodding.

Flagging the bartender down he ordered another drink, this one lighter than the last. When the bartender turned to me, I slid my card his way. “I’m good. Just close me out.”

“We can charge the drink to your account, sir.”

“Use the card please,” I said, not wanting my family to know where I’d been. Nodding, the man took the card and sauntered away leaving the feeling of Clay’s eyes on me. I knew he was reading me. I had to be as transparent as a glass window right now, but I still attempted to play it off.

I wasn’t much of an actor, because a second later Clay pushed off the bar and turned toward me, seeming renewed in his efforts.

“Come to dinner,” he said again. “I swear it’s never boring. Last time there was a food fight.”

“Really?” I raised an eyebrow. “With, like, pies and shit?”

He shrugged. “More like apples and oranges.”

I huffed. “Yeesh. Is that supposed to convince me?”

“Ah, it’s not so bad.” He waved a hand. “And it’s family… It lo oks like you could use a little bit of that while you’re hiding out here. So the invitation is open.”

“Inviting people to my home, Ferguson?” A deadpanned voice asked from behind us.

Something told me I knew who it belonged to before I even looked. Turning, I wasn’t surprised when I was met with nothing but black.

When I’d faced him on the sidewalk in front of the shop, I hadn’t taken much of him in, too blind with aggravation to see or care what he looked like.

Now I saw every bit of her in him. Dark hair, olive skin, brown eyes, similar builds though he was pretty tall compared to her.

And if there was one thing that was the same about Alta’s brother now as it was on the street, was that rigid scowl on his face.

“Oxy! What’s got your panties twisted today?” Clay said, looking genuinely excited to see the man.

“Nothing,” he said, but snuck a sidelong glance at Clay. “I thought we were meeting here. I wasn’t aware there were other parties.”

“I know, I know. But you gotta share me, babydoll.” Clay smirked. “Plus Montez is cool. Montez, this is my brother-in-law.”

Standing, I reached out a hand. He did the same grasping mine in a perfect shake. He refrained from any macho man hand crushing tactics but lost when it came to restraining the disdain in his voice. “A man of many names, I see. Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I said, even though it had yet to be all that nice. “It’s really just the few names though. And you’re Ox right?”

“Oaxaca,” he corrected sternly.

I blinked.

The thing about a name preceding a person, is you had to have the name right to be fully impacted.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I’d heard and comprehended that Alta’s brother was called Ox and I already knew her last name was Fernandez.

But it wasn’t until I’d heard his name from his mouth and seen his gruff, grumpy face and thought about it for a little more than a second, that I knew.

“No shit,” I let the words slip freely from my tongue as I took him in with fresh eyes.

Because the Oaxaca Fernandez I’d heard stories about—the one related to the Ronaldo Fernandez who was almost as legendary as Clay’s entire family, was standing right in front of me.

And I’m pretty sure he hated me. That thought was pushed aside by the flash of brown eyes in my mind.

Big and stormy. That meant…. I felt my eyebrows dip together in confusion. “So she…”

“Correct,” he clipped out of nowhere. Stepping forward. “She is all the things I’m sure you’re realizing right now. But one thing she’s not is your piggy bank, so I don’t know what kind of game you’re running with my sister, but it had better stop.”

My eyes narrowed. Was this guy for real? He had to be by the way he was glaring at me. But why? What part of my demeanor said I wanted to use his sister for money?

Just then, the bartender came by with my bill sliding it and my card across the bar. “Your receipt, Mr. Harper.”

“Thank you,” I said and scooped up the black card before scribbling an appropriate tip. I could feel dark eyes on me, and when I turned to meet the heated gaze, they were accompanied by a set jaw. I shouldered past him, saying, “I’ve got my own money, man. That’s not what I want from your sister.”

I was content to leave it at that. Him, not so much.

“Then what?” He persisted, voice sharp.

I shrugged, but it was the opposite of the way I was feeling. It was hard to describe, my emotions akin to a tidal wave crashing through my system.

And looking at her brother now, I couldn’t help the small bit of truth that slipped from my lips—what I really wanted from her.

“Everything else.”