Page 150 of End Game

“Guys,” Cruz interrupted, Rohan at his side. “Maybe this isn’t the best time.”

Ash made brief eye contact with Cruz and Rohan before waving them off. If he and Zeke needed to get psychologically bloody to bring an end to their feud, so be it. He would apologize to Grams later.

“You’re right, it was,” Ash said. “Because I realized distance would be the only way to force you to become the leader I knew you could be.”

“What a crock. You couldn’t wait to divest yourself of the family business. Not lofty enough. Or was it the blue-collar taint you despised?”

“I didn’t love towing and repoing. A truth I made clear the day I took Dad’s place at the helm. But you did. You were the one with the grand ideas to transform it into something bigger, something more meaningful.”

“If you thought my ideas were so great, why didn’t you stick around long enough to help me see them through?”

Moments like this, he wished he could time travel back to his conversation with their father, when Duke Blackwell made the narrow-minded comments about Zeke not having the right mindset or temperament to run the company, that he was a great number two guy, and kick the old man’s ass. Or at the very least shut the office door.

Only later did he realize Zeke had overheard everything, doing permanent damage to the teenager’s confidence. Then and now, Ash had understood Zeke’s capabilities, his commitment to the family business. But a brother’s opinion was worth pennies compared to a father’s.

“Because you were ready,” Ash said.

“You threw me into the fucking frying pan.”

Ash’s gaze snapped to where Sadie and Brodie had been sitting by the fireplace with Phin. Gone. He glanced around the Great Hall. Cleared out.

He experienced another pang of guilt, but shoved it into the box with all of his other regrets, embarrassing moments, and painful memories. Neither of them were leaving this room until this cancerous thing between them was settled.

“And you survived.” Ash took a large swallow of his drink. “Hell, you thrived, Zeke. BARS is a multimillion-dollar business due, in large part, to your leadership and vision. You didn’t need me.”

Zeke stalked off toward the fireplace, where the ladies had been engaged in “girl talk” before a pall had settled over the festive mood. In a low voice, he said, “I needed your counsel more than ever.”

Ash ignored the kick to his gut. He moved to the liquor sideboard, made a selection, and joined his brother. Palming the bottle, he held it out between them.

“Your story is a lot like Defiant’s.”

“Are you really comparing me to whisky?”

He gave his brother a sideways you’re-an-idiot glance. “Not the liquor itself. The company’s journey to its uniqueness, its success.” He replenished both of their tumblers before setting down the bottle. “The owners took the tradition of making single-malt Scottish whisky, added their own ingenuity, and created something all their own. Something special.” He clinked his glass against his brother’s. “Like you did with BARS.”

Zeke stared into the amber liquid like all the answers of the world lived in its depths.

“Two years ago, you realized that you didn’t need to possess Lupos”—his glaze flicked to the heirloom mounted above the mantel—“in order to be a respected leader. All you needed to do was trust your team.” He shifted to give Zeke his full attention and laid a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Just like you didn’t need my help to transition your vision of Dad’s repo business into an asset recovery empire.” His grip tightened. “You needed to believe in yourself.”

“Maybe,” Zeke said after a stunned silence. “But I would’ve liked my big brother’s—my best friend’s—ear, support, encouragement, I don’t know what. I just needed you. Except you not only cut the umbilical cord, you burned the fucker to ash.”

Ash set his tumbler down on the coffee table and faced his brother. Zeke wouldn’t make eye contact with him, preferring to stare over his shoulder at the far wall.

“Zeke, I’m sorry.”

Silence.

“I did what I thought would help you be successful, but I realize now I made a big mistake. On many levels.”

His brother’s Adam’s apple moved up and down as if he were battling to keep an emotion from rising to the surface.

Ash clamped a hand around the back of Zeke’s neck. “I’m sorry, brother. Sorry I hurt you. Sorry I abandoned you. Sorry I’m the worst fucking friend and brother to ever grace this earth?—”

“Shut the hell up.” Zeke clamped his hands around Ash and pulled him into a bear hug.

Ash embraced him hard, fighting the rise of tears. He brushed away two escapees, then smacked his palm against his brother’s back once, twice, three times before pulling away. “Forgiven?”

Zeke swiped a wrist across his cheeks. “Forgiving.”

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