Page 45 of Chase

The Level, Canary Wharf

Connor

Russell had been in the hospital for a week when Dr. Rivera decided he could return home. The time spent inside seemed extreme, but with the events that led up to his admission, his not being here had been a welcome relief. Samantha is off work today, and we’ll go to Varley Medical together to bring him back to The Level. She was unsure when I suggested we do this, but as this situation will be our new standard for a while, we need to try to normalize it as much as possible.

I truly believe the only way to get this girl is to allow her the space to choose me. If life has taught me anything, it’s that when you push so hard the image becomes blurred, you often lose what you want. In any aspect, when you start to hold too tight, people automatically pull away. It’s a defense mechanism. We as humans are prey, so when we feel threatened, our instinct is to run. The last thing in this world I want is Samantha to run from me, so if giving her this time to consider what she desires means she will be mine in the end, it’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make.

The morning after Russell fell from the roof, I sat at my kitchen counter with my coffee and considered everything that had happened, both the night before and in the months previous to it. I’d missed all the red flags. My brother is someone I know possibly even better than myself; it hadn’t gone unnoticed that he was acting different. The time gaps where I didn’t know where he was, I accept now—I didn’t ask because I didn’t want to know.

There was a relief in learning his interest in Samantha was an obsession that hadn’t gone beyond him watching and her enjoying the attention. Strangely, it had shown a sort of respect for me, which I didn’t expect. It was like they were feeding a need without acting on it. Taking what they could, while not overstepping an invisible line.

That morning, my apartment was empty without her. She had been spending more time in my home, and I was becoming used to the company—the familiarity of having her here either waiting for me when I returned from the office, or her slipping into my bed in the middle of the night. I’d questioned how I wanted to tackle the revelations of her and my brother. Did I want to draw a line and move on? Did I want to walk away but demand they stay apart? Or did I cut ties with my brother and her?

Every option that flitted through my mind seemed wrong. Each situation was one I couldn’t see myself living. As hurt as I was that she could want someone other than me, my need for her was greater. I had to find an alternative solution. One which meant I could keep her, but not trap her. One where I didn’t ultimately lose my best friend, the man who has protected me his whole life. The man I truly want to see happier than anyone in the world.

The sad reality is that I had to accept that what could make him happy is also the one thing essential to me: Samantha.

***

Damon had appeared unexpectedly the morning after Russell fell, knocking at ten a.m. When I opened the door, he gave me a sympathetic smile and then asked to come in. I stayed mute but allowed him entry in answer, and he stepped into my home. We wandered through to the living space, and I fired up the coffee machine as he took a seat at my table opposite where my own mug sat.

“How are you?” he asked simply. I didn’t answer immediately, focused on my task of pulling a mug and the necessary items from the cupboard. Even though I didn’t meet his gaze, I knew he was staring at me with intense eyes, willing me to speak.

“Confused,” I said eventually.

“That’s understandable.” I braved a glance in his direction. I’d expected to see pity, but all that was apparent on his features was concern. My friend, who was dealing with his own struggles in his relationship, had shown up today for me because he was troubled over how last night transpired. “I would imagine the whole fiasco would be a shock.” I laughed out loud, and he raised an eyebrow and smirked.

“Understatement of the century,” I told him.

The coffee machine signaled it was ready to use, and I placed the mug under the tap. The hot, dark beverage spilled into the cup, and the rich aroma filled my nostrils. I breathed deeply, enjoying the simple pleasure. After it was done, I lifted the mug and the plate with sugar, milk, and a small biscuit I’d prepared. I never used to have biscuits in the house, but Samantha loves a little treat with her hot drinks. They became a necessary purchase on my shopping list.

The doubt flickered again, the hurt that she might not want me. And how much I’d miss her if it ended here.

I moved to the table, placing Damon’s drink in front of him then returning to my seat. My half-drunk coffee sat where I left it, and I wrapped my fingers around the handle but didn’t take a sip. We sat in silence for a few minutes as he added the sugar and milk, then stirred his drink with the small silver spoon I left on the plate.

Although I consider Damon a friend, and a close one—he is a man I trust with my life—our relationship has always been more toward business than friendship. He’s much closer with Harrison than Russell or myself, which isn’t surprising considering I’ve always had my brother to lean on. It made me wonder why he was here.

“I’m surprised you’re here,” I said, trying to open up some dialogue. “I’d have thought you’d be at home with Annie.”

“Mrs. D is on babysitting duty,” he replied. “Annie hasn’t been sleeping as well since…” He paused, and his eyes dropped to the biscuit he was now unwrapping. He looked to compose himself by taking a deep breath before continuing with what he was going to say. “Annie hasn’t slept well these past months since Emma left. Mrs. D told me not to come home too early and risk waking her. So I slept in Harrison’s spare room.”

“Did you get any sleep in that mad house?” I asked with a chuckle. My niece, Evie, doesn’t sleep at all. My sister is forever complaining about being exhausted.

“Very little, but at least it's not my baby that kept me up.” He sighed. “I should be going home to a smiley little girl, at least. She’s a fiend after a bad night. Who knew a one-year-old could be so testing.”

“I am pretty sure testing their parents is in the contract when they’re born.”

The conversation continued loosely around the children for a while—his daughter and my little niece, who came into our lives a matter of weeks ago and whom we’re all crazy about. It was relaxing speaking to someone who knew the situation I am in but wasn’t tightly connected to the confusion.

“How are you really?” he said, taking the opportunity to bring the focus to me during a lull in our conversation.

“I told you, confused.”

“Last night you were ending things,” he said, and I shrugged. “Is that what you want? Do you feel cheated?” I shook my head. Of all the things I felt, the last of them was cheated in any way. At the end of the day, it was me who had experienced Samantha fully, not my brother.

“I lashed out. I panicked.”

He picked up his mug and drank deep before placing it back down on the table.

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