Page 27 of His Forever

“We wait,” Sig answered before I could. “Candace won’t bite immediately. She’ll need to believe this is real, and that’ll take time.”

“And while we’re waiting?” Princeton asked.

“We watch,” I said. “We watch and we prepare. Because when she makes her move, we’ll be ready.”

Apollo stood up, pacing the room a little, clearly thinking through the plan. “You’re sure about this, Brynn? I mean, this is a long shot. A risky one. What if she finds out Guy is dead before we can take her out? Won’t that put you in an even worse spot?”

“I’m sure she won’t find out,” I said. “I’ve been playing it since the day Guy died.”

Leo stood as well, grabbing his glass of whiskey from the desk and raising it slightly. “Then here’s to the long shot. Let’s make sure Candace doesn’t know what hit her.”

Clyde filled glasses with whiskey and handed them out. The guys followed Leo’s suit, raising their glasses.

I caught Leo’s eye. He gave me a small, reassuring smile, the kind that reminded me why I trusted him even after our past.

Once we got Candace out of the picture, we were going to figure out where we actually stood.

Chapter Eleven

Leo

I couldn’t sleep.

Most nights I couldn’t.

I was lucky to get a couple of hours before I found myself wide awake, staring at the ceiling, my mind churning through thoughts. Tonight was no different. The house was quiet with the air still, but my brain wouldn’t shut off. I lay there for what felt like hours before finally giving up.

With a sigh, I threw back the covers and swung my legs over the side of the bed. The cold floorboards beneath my feet grounded me a little, but it didn’t quiet the restlessness inside. I pulled on a T-shirt, trying not to think about what was keeping me up, but that never worked.

I pushed open the bedroom door and stepped into the dark hallway. The wood creaked beneath my weight, the sound barely a whisper in the dead of night. I moved through the shadows, my hand skimming the wall out of habit as I made my way toward the staircase.

But as I passed Brynn’s room, I hesitated.

Her door was closed, the faint outline of light at the bottom telling me she was still awake. It wasn’t a surprise—Brynn had the weight of the world on her shoulders, too. This life made you restless, always thinking, never fully at ease. I stood there for a moment longer than I should have, staring at that door like I was waiting for something. For her to step out, for me to knock, for a reason to talk to her.

Anything.

After the meeting earlier, I’d been hoping for a chance to clear the air with her. There was so much we hadn’t said, so much still hanging between us like a weight neither of us knew how to lift. She’d kept her distance, though. Not avoiding meexactly, but she was always talking to someone else, wrapped up in conversations with Sig or one of the girls.

Dinner had been the usual affair—Bristol cooking up a feast of chicken skewers, rice pilaf, roasted vegetables, and that apple pie she was famous for. Everyone had eaten their fill, laughing and talking like they didn’t have a care in the world. The food was amazing, of course, but my mind hadn’t been on dinner.

It had been on Brynn.

She’d been right there, in the same room, but somehow miles away. I didn’t know if it was intentional or just how things were between us now, but the distance gnawed at me. She was in the same room as me, but she might as well have been back in South Carolina.

But now wasn’t the time to sort it all out. The middle of the night was not the time to drag out all the ghosts between us.

I exhaled sharply and tore my gaze away from her door. No point standing there like some lovesick fool. I forced myself to keep walking, leaving behind the temptation to knock.

The staircase creaked as I descended, each step familiar beneath my feet. The house was still, the heavy kind of silence that only came late at night. I’d always found it calming, the quiet. It was one of the few times I could hear myself think clearly.

When I reached the bottom, I turned toward my office. I knew the path by heart. It was where I always ended up on nights like this—where I poured myself a drink and tried to make sense of everything. Or tried to forget. Usually, it was a bit of both.

The door to the office was slightly ajar, and I nudged it open with my foot. The room was dark, but I didn’t bother with the lights. The soft glow from the lights outside was enough. I moved over to the bar cart and reached for the whiskey, my hand automatically finding the familiar bottle.

I poured a glass, the clink of the liquid hitting the crystal a small comfort in the silence except for the sound of my stomach growling. For a moment, I just stood there, staring out the window, watching the shadows play against the glass. The night stretched out in front of me, endless and heavy.

I took a sip, the burn of the whiskey sliding down my throat. It was a welcome distraction, but not strong enough to drown out the thoughts still swirling in my head.

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