Fragile Illusion: Stag Brothers Book 3 Read online

  Fragile Illusion:

  Stag Brothers Book Three

  By Lainey Davis

  © 2018 Lainey Davis

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  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, business, events and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Individuals pictured on the cover are models and are used for illustrative purposes only.

  Many thanks to Nicky Lewis, Mandy Dr., Christine, Samantha, Keith G and Judy for editorial input.

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  independent authors!

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Chapter Thirty

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Chapter Forty

  Chapter Forty-One

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Epilogue

  One

  THATCHER

  I realize the second I finish that I have no idea what this chick's name is. Did we talk about names? Or did we just walk back to her apartment last night? I don't usually stay over, but I was completely exhausted after our acrobatic routine in her living room, her hallway, and her bed. And then she was down for an encore this morning…so here I am.

  "Fuck," I shout, looking at her clock radio. "Is that the right time?"

  She rolls over, pushing the curtain of her blonde hair out of her eyes. "Mmmm. I guess so." She runs her fingers lightly along my chest, letting her head flop back down on the pillow.

  "Fuck. I'm so fucking late. Shit." I'm out of the bed in a flash, scrambling around her apartment looking for my clothes. I'm going to have to go wearing the same stuff I had on last night. I run my fingers through my long hair, trying to tame it a little. My family is going to kill me.

  "Thatcher, wait." I hear her padding down the hall, still naked. Fuck me, she's hot. A tall, leggy blonde with big eyes and full lips. Do I want to get her number? Fuck it.

  "Babe, I'm sorry. I have to get out of here." I find my wallet under the couch near my jeans. My keys…aha! They're on the floor inside the front door. When I stand up with them I see her standing with her arms crossed.

  She raises an eyebrow. "You're just going to run out of here like this? Literally run out?"

  "It's my nephew's birthday party. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to--"

  "Give me five minutes and I'll come with you."

  Woah. "What?" My tone is harsh, but is she serious right now?

  "Bring me with you. To the party. I love kids!"

  I hold my hands out, palms up. "Look, doll, we just met last night. I don't want you to take this the wrong way, but I can't bring you with me to my nephew's birthday party with my family."

  "Doll? Babe? You don't even know my name do you?"

  I open my mouth and then close it again. Fuck it. I wasn't coming back for more anyway.

  "Fuck you, Thatcher Stag. Fuck you!" She starts throwing magazines at me from the shelf in the hall. I duck as a huge bridal catalogue comes flying at my head and then I remember. "Amber!" I look at the address label from one of the projectiles. Fuck. "Tiffany, come on. You seemed like you had a good time…"

  She shakes her head. "You are unbelievable."

  I don't have time to talk about this more. My brother is going to tear me a new one if I'm not there for this party. I pull the door open and then shut, jogging a bit to find my beat up old Ford Ranger parked outside. I slam the truck into gear and screech out of the parking lot just as I see Tiffany stick her head out the apartment window. I don't even hear what she's shouting at me.

  I take stock of myself. My hair and beard are a mess. There's definitely lipstick on the collar of my polo. I'll have to go in just my undershirt. I wonder if my brother will buy it if I say I got hung up in my work this morning and lost track of time.

  Luckily I have my nephew's gift with me. I can tell them I was putting the finishing touches on it, even though I've had it done for months. I had picked it up from the engraver last night before I hit the club, which was why I had it along, tucked safely in the glove box.

  I pull up outside my brother's house in Highland Park. It's the house we all grew up in, where Tim took care of us after my mom died and my dad took off. Now Tim lives here with his wife, Alice, and their baby. Tim's always been hard on us, insisting that we keep our shit together. And with good reason. It's not like it rained money for our family. We had to be careful, couldn't afford any missteps. But I'm an adult now, and Tim's become even more of a hard ass since he married Alice. At least with me.

  Our other brother, Ty, can do no wrong as far as Tim's concerned. Ty is a professional hockey star and his fiancé, Juniper, is a lawyer at my brother's firm. She used to be Ty's lawyer until they got together. Tim acts like the sun shines out of Juniper's ass and Ty is basically another sunbeam, between all his community service and the way he helped Juniper train for an Olympic gold medal in rowing.

  I'm left to bear the brunt of all of them judging me. They think I'm some dirty, deadbeat, wanna-be artist. They think I'm a selfish womanizer, and maybe that part is true. I breathe slowly in and out through my nose. Yeah. That part is true.

  I climb out of the truck and head inside, wondering how much I've missed and how long Tim is going to yell at me about it later.

  Two

  THATCHER

  "Happy birthday, dear Peter, happy birthday to you!" I walk in the door in time to join the chorus singing to my nephew. I slide over to the dining room, where my family and Alice's family are all clapping and cooing at my nephew. He's strapped in his high chair wearing just a diaper as my sister-in-law slides him a giant cupcake. She's a chef, so I'm sure she made it for him from scratch. Knowing Alice, it's probably made of carrot flour with lemon zest and extra protein or some shit…but tastes amazing anyway.

  I pull out my phone and take a picture as Petey smacks the chocolate frosting, then rubs his hand on his belly. He's a cute kid, with his mom's tight, blond ringlets but the grey eyes all us Stag men inherited from our mother, Laurel. Petey sticks a hand in his mouth, tentative, and then the sugary icing blows his little mind. He dives in, face first. We all laugh, but when I look up, I see my brother Tim sc
owling at me.

  I raise both my eyebrows at Tim, but don't keep his eye. I look back at Petey. He's got, like, 15 adults staring at him and his cousins--Alice's sister has 2 boys--are running around screaming. The poor kid must be going crazy with all the stimulation, plus his first experience with sugar.

  "All right, Petey, let's get you cleaned up and we can open your presents!" Alice swoops in and lifts him out of the chair, not even flinching at the mess. She's like that. Doesn't care about stuff like frosting on her shirt. She holds Petey on her hip, trying to keep most of the mess at bay. He reaches for her face and she kisses his chocolaty hand. I take a picture of that, too. Alice has brought a lot of light into our family.

  Things were really rocky with Tim and her for a bit there. She got pregnant pretty early in their relationship and insisted she had to raise the baby within walking distance of her family. Tim wanted them to live in the fancy downtown penthouse he owned at the time. Alice would have none of it. Family is the most important thing to her, and I appreciate that. I mean, my brothers are pains in the ass, but they're all I've got. The Petersons are way up in each other's business--a few of them still live at home with their dad and Alice's older brother just bought a house in the neighborhood. I laugh a little at how nicely things worked out now that Alice and Tim live in Stag HQ. Alice grew up just a few blocks away from us. We're all one, giant Stag-Peterson group now for Sunday dinners and shit. It's nice. At least Alice's brothers don't judge me for my piercings and ink.

  I meet Tim's eye again as Alice and her sister get Peter started opening presents. Yep. Tim is pissed. I shift uncomfortably, grabbing a plate of snacks off the table while Petey opens toy cars and a tricycle. Of course, Ty bought him a hockey stick and Juniper got him a life jacket.

  I crouch down next to Alice and Peter to give him my gift. Alice sniffs and makes a face at me. Shit. How bad do I stink? I need to start keeping deodorant in the truck, at least. I slide the wooden box out of my back jeans pocket and hand it to Alice. "I made something for you, dude." Peter smiles at me and tugs at my beard. He's the only one I'll let do that. I know it's wild and unruly, but that doesn't give anyone free reign to yank it. Except Petey.

  "Thatcher, this box is gorgeous," Alice says, rubbing the smooth finish.

  "My buddy made that for me, and engraved it. See?" I point out where Property of Peter Stag is etched into the wood. She hands me the box and I show her how to slide the lid open. The glass marbles I made glisten in the light.

  "Marbles, Thatcher? For a baby?" My brother is angry. He's about to blow his shit, I can tell. He storms over and snatches them from Alice's hand.

  "Chill, dude. I used the silicon blend for the base material." I take a marble from him and bounce it on the hardwood floor. "It won't shatter. He can't break it. I promise."

  "It's a fucking choking hazard, Thatcher." Tim takes the box and moves to put it up on top of the bookshelf, but I grab his arm.

  "Give me a little more credit than that, would you?" I hold up one of the marbles. "Alice told me nothing smaller than a toilet paper roll. I made sure these were just bigger." I look back and forth between Tim and Alice. She smiles at me warmly, but my brother clenches his teeth. I see a vein ticking in his neck and he walks through to the kitchen.

  "Thatcher, they're just beautiful," Alice says. She holds one of the marbles up to the light. I swirled in black and gold on that one, for our Pittsburgh sports teams. The other marble I made with grey, like our eyes. And a few streaks of purple, for Alice's. I'm pretty pleased with how they turned out. Perfectly spherical. Lightweight enough that I don't worry Petey will hurt himself with them. I know I'm an asshole to women and I show up late to birthday parties, but I would never give my nephew a gift that would hurt him. My family is everything to me.

  Alice kisses me on the cheek. "Go talk to him," she urges. "He's just being cranky, I think."

  I nod and grab a cupcake before the kids and Ty eat them all. I sigh and walk to the kitchen, where Tim is gripping the counter and staring out the window into the backyard. "Hey, Timber," I say, my mouth full of cupcake.

  "You're a real piece of work, you know that, Thatcher?"

  "Dude, I was a half hour late for a baby's birthday party. Can you cut me a break?" I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. "And at least turn around to look at me if you're going to give me shit."

  Tim whips around and crosses his arms, talking to me like I'm some little kid. "You still smell like pussy. Do you know that? And fucking liquor, too. Did you even shower after?"

  I don't say anything, but I don't think it can be true that I reek that badly of sex…although I did go down on what's-her-name in my truck before we headed to her apartment.

  "What do you care what I did last night?"

  "I care when you show up hungover and dripping with STDs to my son's fucking birthday party, Thatcher. You're late for every family dinner. You're always out at bars. What the fuck are you doing with your life?"

  I throw the rest of the cupcake into the sink. "You have a lot of fucking nerve, Tim, judging my life. I go to functions promoting my god damn artwork and it's really none of your fucking business who I bring home."

  "It is my business, brother." He steps right into my face. "It is my business when you bring some bimbo to the family suite to watch Ty's hockey games and then you piss her the fuck off and she slanders the family name on social media. It is my business when you screw over some executive's daughter and I start losing business to other firms. Are you sensing a pattern here?" He holds up his phone and I see Tiffany has been bashing me online already. That didn't take long.

  "Her father represents the football team, Thatcher," Tim snarls at me. "I've already gotten calls." He grinds his teeth together and I can tell he wants to deck me or sue me. Maybe both.

  The thing about Tim is that he's 100% correct about me pissing off all these women. Yeah, I go to my brother Ty's pro hockey games and seduce the glamorous women there, and yeah. I forget their names, sneak out of their beds in the middle of the night, or wind up fucking their roommates the next weekend. But they all know this going in. They all know that Thatcher Stag isn't in it for the long haul. One great night. I make it worth their while.

  The other thing about Tim is that he's 100% an asshole right now, and I just can't stand it another fucking second. He's always harping on me for how I do business, because it's not how he does business at Stag Law. Fuck him and his uptight, designer suits. He has no idea how successful I am, the kinds of negotiations my agent makes for my glass. Could I be a bit more discreet about how I unwind after work? Ok, maybe.

  But my whole life, he's just treated me like his whipping boy, taking out all his frustrations on me because Ty's the youngest and I'm always just there. But I'm sick of him thinking of me as a loser, which is why I respond to him by saying, "I don't know where you get your information from, Tim, but it's outdated. And that chick is delusional. I'll have you know I'm engaged."

  I hear a gasp from behind me. Alice and Juniper had walked into the kitchen to see what the commotion was as Tim and I were shouting. Juniper claps her hands. "Engaged? Thatcher, really?? Why didn't you say anything?"

  "Yeah, brother. Why didn't you tell us anything about this fiancé of yours?" Tim raises an eyebrow at me and I can tell he knows I'm lying. Fuck him.

  I run a finger through my long hair, trying to smooth it down. "I didn't want to take away from your wedding plans, Juniper. This summer is about you and Ty and I don't want to steal your limelight is all."

  "Aww, Thatcher, you are so sweet to consider me that way. You know you getting engaged wouldn't take anything from my wedding, though."

  I give her a 2-dimple smile. Not that she can see them behind the beard. "I just know you don't have any family, Juniper, so our family should dote on you. This is a big deal for you. You guys can all meet her soon. I promise."

  Tim is looking at me like he still wants to murder me. "Why didn't you bring her with you today, then, if she'
s your fiancé?"

  I shrug, stalling. "She's working." Shit. I need to start keeping track of the lies before I get myself in trouble. I just want to get my brother off my back for a minute so I can regroup.

  "Well!" Alice throws her arms around me in a hug. "I insist that you bring her over for family dinner next Sunday. No--Thatcher, don't you look at me that way. She has to come. Tell her to ask off now if she works weekends."

  My mouth drops open. I look at Tim and he's smiling like the Cheshire cat. "Great idea, Alice. I need to meet this mystery woman so I can call Tiffany's father and assure him his daughter must have been thinking of a different hipster artist who fucked her and forgot her name."

  I'm seething right now, angry…and panicking, I guess. I can't fucking bear to let him be right about this. "We will be here, brother. Count on it."

  I guess I have a week to find myself a fake fiancé.

  Three

  EMMA

  I smooth out my jeans and tie my hair up in a high ponytail to get it out of my face. I've been summoned to the editor's office, but I'm wearing my "thinking clothes" and I look a mess. I tap on Phil's door frame hesitantly. "You wanted to see me, boss?" He gestures for me to come in, so I sit in the chair by his desk while he types furiously. Hopefully those aren't comments on my latest draft. He has high standards, and I want to improve my writing, but it's still hard to get a file back that's more red ink than black.

  Phil stops typing, sighs, and leans back in his chair. "Emma. I need you to do something for me."

  "Sure, Phil. Anything for the Post!"

  He sighs again. "Davis quit and, frankly, I'm screwed. I need you to cover an art opening."

  Art? I frown. "Hm. Well, Phil, you know I don't really know anything about art…"

  He waves a hand, dismissing this concern. "I'm emailing you all the press release stuff. You can pick up lingo, highlights, whatever from the PR people. Thatcher Stag is debuting some series of glass botanicals in the conservatory. It's supposed to be hot shit. We need to cover it." He looks at me over his monitor, face stern. "Consider it an advertorial--think positive copy, Cheswick. Ben will go photograph the event. You just need to interview the artist, get some quotes about his process and his vision for our city. Blah, blah. You realize I'm giving you permission to write a puff piece here, Cheswick."