Page 10 of All the Promises We Break

“That and then some. She’s one of the most brilliant interns we’ve had in five years.”

“Elijah,” my father pauses, “you’ve got the guts of your grandfather and a way with words like your father.”

“Thank you, sir. I definitely take that as a compliment.”

My father takes his right hand from his pocket, extending it to me. “Let me see this ring of yours.”

The tremors in my fingers are evident as I lay them down in his open palm. My father slowly rotates my hand from left to right, letting the sunshine make my ring glow. “This is quite beautiful, Dylan… just like you. Congratulations, sweetheart.”

Chapter Four

Wes

A late night of work is never fun. Let me rephrase, almost never. It depends on the players and where the party ends up after the work is over. Tonight is all business. The job is never done. I’m on the phone with a client putting out fires, making the next moves, negotiating the deal, or simply making a connection.

Playing basketball with Eli when we were kids wasn’t just a way to pass time. It was the beginning of a lifelong passion in sports. I’ve been able to combine my love for a game, any game, be it on a court, field, diamond, track, or sheet of ice, with my insane ability to bullshit and turn it into a paycheck.

I started low on the totem pole but quickly became one of the industry’s hottest up and coming agents. It came so easily. The only time I didn’t “get the girl” so to speak, was when I flew to Italy one last time to land my favorite Formula One racer on my roster. That ended with a new friendship, just not the deal.

I used to travel so much that Eli would give me shit that he was talking to my voicemail more than he was seeing me. Recently, my client base has been within driving distance so I can do moreup and backs. However, it’s eaten into my stockpile of frequent flier miles for those all-important vacations.

My home office tonight isn’t my home. It’s Eli’s. He texted me earlier and filled me in on what this evening would be about for him and Dylan. I paced around my apartment for about twenty minutes before I said fuck it, packed my files and computer and set up shop at his dining table.

I don’t like to admit, even to myself, how his accident has impacted me. I’ve felt this need to be closer to him than ever. I want to make sure things are easy for him, even if they aren’t. Meeting the parents is a tough go in the best of situations. This one could be one for the books.

I’ve opened the balcony door, just in case the old school Bat Signal goes up as a last resort. I’ve been at many charity and industry events with the Sawyers and Paul Cooper has been at his fair share. He’s got a reputation, and not a good one, from a personability perspective. The good thing about him is he’s not dirty, but that doesn’t mean a man can’t be pushed in that direction.

So no matter the outcome for Goose and Viper tonight, I wanted to be nearby. I’ll play it off as his beer is better and that he owes me a rematch from last weekend’s hockey gaming classic. I’m a sore loser. He’ll take that at face value and not press the issue of me just showing up.

I rub my hand through my hair as I pace all through my last call to the West Coast for the day. As I click the off button, the time appears. The witching hour is upon us. This is the time they should be walking back in the door after a mountain of blame, finger-pointing, and things some of them would regret saying, or they’d be sitting down to dinner for a happily ever after.

My phone makes a gentle landing to the table as my desire for a third round of IPA becomes a real thing. I twist the cap off andflip it between my fingers to send it spinning to the countertop. It rattles from side to side until it comes to a stop.

A similar sound comes from the front door. It’s the twist of the deadbolt with a key. Fuck. I was right. I wish I wasn’t. The door opens as I round the corner and catch a mess of blonde hair struggling to free the key from the lock.

“God damn this thing.”

The voice is a higher pitch than Dylan’s. Hayley.

“Yeah, because swearing at it will help.” I gently remove her hand from the key and simply pull it back to the left so the key frees itself easily. “See, you need finesse.”

She rolls her eyes. “I don’t even want to go there.” Hayley picks up her bag off the floor and heads for the kitchen. “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question. I had work to do. Here was as good of a place as any.”

Hayley pops a couple of pints of ice cream in the freezer and a bottle of bourbon on the counter. “Is that the excuse you’re going with? It’s a little thin, even for you.”

“It’s the truth.”

“Yeah, sure. Okay.”

“I’ll ask again. What are you doing here?”

“Dylan messaged me while Eli was in the shower earlier. She didn’t want him to know how bad she was freaking out about going to talk to her parents. I can’t say I blame her. I thought they would either need sweets or booze. I wanted to be prepared.”

I smile at Hayley as I lean back against the counter across from her. “You two have become close, haven't you?”

“I really like her. I mean she’s so good for Eli, but that’s not the only reason. Dylan’s a good listener and she has really great advice. I’ve never had a sister before. I mean Tori was just there. She didn’t care about me.”

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