Page 11 of Reluctantly You

I’m barely hanging on to my own at the moment. As I drive home, my mind swirls with memories of my past—college, and when I first started at the company. A time when things were happier, better, when things were looking promising.

What would it be like to go back, to bask in that a little longer?

I don’t know. I’ll never know. You can’t change time.

When I get home, I pull my car into the garage and make my way to the front door, seeing two packages I don’t remember ordering waiting for me. Probably some subscription I forgot I’d placed and don’t need. I grab the boxes, putting them under my arm as I see that small kitten peer out from the bushes. Those blue eyes blink up at me, and I turn around, forcing myself not to look.

I may hesitate, just a moment, before going inside.

But like I said… No time for anyone’s shit.

Least of all, my own.

I crack the next morning. My head a little groggy, ensconced in a pink fog, my chest so tight it’s almost hard to breathe, I decide I need to fix this. I need to try. So, instead of waiting for one of my brothers to call me, I reach out. I call Max first, but of course he doesn’t answer. Not that I expected him to. I was always closer to Matt. But when I try calling Matt next, he sends me to voicemail after the second ring.

I glower down at my phone and run a hand over my mouth.

Fuck. Them. Fuck them for leaving me like this.

And yet, even though I chant those dark thoughts the entire way to work, I still feel my heart breaking. I tried to build abridge and they cut me off at the knees. But what’s new? I was getting the feeling months ago that they were pulling away.

There was a time when we were thick as thieves, and now… Well, apparently they’re all married to men and didn’t think to tell me or invite me to their weddings. Not that I would have gone.

I don’t condone gay marriage. It’s not right.

Not at all.

And yet still… I wanted to be invited.

Those heartless bastards. They didn’t even think of me, consider me.

It’s obvious that they’ve never given a shit about me.

Parking my car, I stare out at the gray sky. It’s gloomy out, much like my mind at the moment. My eyes climb the sleek, modern building that my dad had leased to run this entire operation ages ago.

One day, son, this will all be yours.

I shake the thought away and run a hand across my mouth. I need to start looking for other jobs, something to pay the bills while I figure out what to do with my life. Since I’m no longer going to be inheriting this, I’ll need to find something to get me by.

I have a lot of experience in finance—I’m sure I’d kill it in an interview. What’s the point of staying here when there’s no room to progress? Everything I sacrificed for this company has all been for naught. Every late night, every unethical decision, every pay cut. All for nothing.

I hope this place burns to the ground.

I press my palms into my eyes and breathe deeply through my nose.

I don’t even want to go in today. I know as soon as I walk inside everyone will be staring at me, whispering their theories as to what happened. But I’ve never been a quitter, I was neverallowed to quit. So, I step out of my car and my legs carry me into the building, my shoulders square, my chin held high.

I ignore the sideways looks of everyone as I make my way toward my office, only to stop when I realize that I’m going to the wrong one. The space that was once mine is now being occupied by a twink in a bright pink blazer. The administrative assistant.

“Oh, hello,” the man says with a bright smile. It looks like he’s wearing lipstick, and I bite back a smart-ass comment. He’s exactly the kind of man I’d have on his knees in front of me, gagging on my cock.

My eyes trail over him in disdain, swallowing down any greeting, as I turn on my heel and make my way to my office, shutting the door behind me and falling into my chair. I pinch the bridge of my nose, my fingers digging into my palms, trying like hell to contain my temper, the rage of it all. But fuck, it’s hard.

I think I’m going through the stages of grief. For a few days it was sadness pulsing through me, a dark indigo. But now I’m firmly in the anger stage, my vision flickering crimson. I want to rip everything apart. I want to self-destruct.

I want to burn it all to the ground.

My motivation to work is at zero. I want to do nothing to help this company succeed. Not after the way I was treated. But I know, when looking at my schedule, that I have meetings I need to attend.

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