Page 8 of When Hearts Collide

“Very funny.”

I grin, watching his lips twitch as he sits back in his chair, the workaholic in his office, his fingers playing with a…seashell?

“Why are you holding a seashell?”

A mask falls over his face and he puts the shell away on his desk out of sight as he straightens up and adjusts his tie. “You haven’t answered my question yet.”

I roll my eyes and let out a sigh. “I ran in here from the kitchen. Don’t worry, Adrian, I don’t have a secret boyfriend and I’m not having fantastic, out of breath, mind-blowing sex.”

Adrian turns green and holds up his hand. “I don’t need that visual…ever. And any men you ever date, you need to make sure it’s for the right reasons,” he begins, and my earlier good mood vaporizes instantly.

“I don’t go around advertising Adrian Scott is my brother. Not anymore.” Not since my god-awful ex. “Plus, our last names are different. It’s not like anyone will automatically make the connection Millie Callahan is the much younger sister of reclusive billionaire, Adrian Scott.”

I shrug and stare at my fingers. “You don’t have to worry about me. I’m nineteen and have been taking care of myself for a very, very long time,” I whisper before my eyes flicker back to the screen, a nagging ache settling on my chest at the mention of our past.

Adrian has been obsessed with rising from our barely solvent childhood to crafting an empire so no one will dare to look down upon us anymore. As part of his revenge plan against everyone who stomped on us at our lowest, he even changed his last name.

He winces and releases a ragged inhale, clearly fighting to tamp down his emotions.

His voice is rusty and thick when he says, “I’m sorry I haven’t been there for you before, Millie. I know you had to grow up far quicker than any girl should. With Mom gone and Dad a mess, you took care of him when I was away and even though you wouldn’t tell me, I’m sure things weren’t easy for you.”

A lump forms in my throat as the backs of my eyes burn. I’ve waited years for him to say this.

All the days of me pretending everything was fine when I was drowning inside. All the tears I had shed in the dark under my thick comforter on my bed to ensure no one could hear me because life was difficult enough without me adding to his burdens.

His eyes darken into a stormy blue, and he continues, “But I-I’m proud of you, Millie, of the young woman you’ve become today. I know I didn’t have a hand in it. I should’ve been there for you more, I—”

“Took care of us and put food on our table when Dad couldn’t work. You picked me up from school and checked my homework when Dad was in his cups. You tried your best, Adrian. I don’t blame you.”

I can’t blame him.

I cover my hand over my mouth so he doesn’t see the slight trembling of my lips and suddenly, my eyes feel very heavy as if the lack of sleep from last night is finally catching up to me.

I’m so tired. In more ways than one.

Flashing a forced smile, I whisper, “I love you, Adrian. I only wish you wouldn’t be so hard on yourself and so angry at the world. You deserve happiness, just like all of us.”

He clenches his jaw, his eyes flashing. “I’ll be happy when the bastards pay for what they did to Mom and our family.”

“We didn’t have everything, but I was happy. I don’t need all the materialistic things. I just want my family to be happy…the family I have left.”

It’s something Adrian has never understood and something that pains me every time I talk to him and watch him work himself to the bone trying to add more zeroes to our bank account. Then there’s the hatred in his eyes when he talks about taking revenge on our rich grandparents, who abandoned Mom when she married Dad because he was poor, and how they didn’t even care we were on food stamps at one point or their daughter didn’t have money for cancer treatments. They didn’t even come to her funeral when she passed away when I was seven.

From outward appearances, it seems like he has the world in his hands now—the fancy suits and nice cars. But he’s miserable inside. Mom wouldn’t have wanted that for him.

Adrian slowly unclenches his fists. “Let’s not talk about it. I called because I wanted to wish you a good first day at ULA. I’m glad you’re spending a year here so I can see you more often than if we’re on opposite coasts. But I guess I fucked up the well wishes call too.”

Tamping down the heaviness in my chest, I smile brightly, something that comes second nature to me, even though I don’t feel an ounce of positivity inside.

He needs me to be happy. It’ll make him feel better. “I know you care, Adrian. And thank you for calling. I’m very excited.”

He forces out a smile and before long, we disconnect the call.

I rub the familiar ache in my chest. Sitting back in my chair, I look at my minimally furnished room, taking in the heavy tan drapes drawn over half of the windows, blocking some of the gloomy daylight streaming in from the outside, the simple full-size bed with a fluffy white comforter, which suddenly looks very inviting, even though I tossed and turned in it the entire night, the potted purple pasque flowers, an understated yet beautiful member of the buttercup family, on the nightstand.

Exhaustion weighs on my eyelids. I yawn and look at the time again. Twelve-thirty. I still have a couple hours before I need to get on campus. A nap won’t hurt.

A nap always makes me feel better afterward. Then I’m going to go to class.

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