Page 55 of Unconditional

Birdie waved a hand, oblivious to my inner turmoil, and sipped her orange juice.“They don’t hang around so often unless they think they need to.If they’d had any idea that we’d given you the green light to visit, they would’ve surrounded the property.”

“You didn’t tell them?”I asked, mostly out of curiosity.It was unusual, for me at least, that anyone could trust another person so much that they’d believe them without hesitation.Like Birdie had believed Misely when she’d said she’d needed her.

“I really didn’t think I needed to.”She gave me a pointed look and guilt burned in my throat.

Swallowing the bite in my throat, I cleared it.“I uh…I’m sorry that I manipulated Misely into betraying your trust.”

The woman blinked, her golden eyes widening for only a moment.“I appreciate that.”Her tone held nothing but sincerity, making my throat burn hotter.Misely's gaze was warm on the side of my face, just as her palm went to my thigh beneath the table and gave a gentle squeeze.I avoided looking at her, knowing if I did I wouldn't be able to concentrate on finishing what I hoped sounded like a genuine apology.

“I erm…” I thought for a moment, wondering how sentimental I could get before I simply evaporated into dust right where I sat.“I could only hope to have a friendship as authentic as the one the two of you share.It is clear that you mean a lot to one another.”

“Does that mean you're rescinding your statement from last night?Where you told me that I don’t deserve her?”I knew she was baiting me, but I fell for it anyway, my muscles drawing up tight.

“No, I stand by what I said.Anybody who could talk to her like that doesnotdeserve her.But I’m willing to see past it on this singular occasion, as emotions were elevated.”I passed my own cinnamon roll over to Misely’s plate, vibrating with pleasure when she let out an excited little squeal.

The corners of Birdie’s lips twitched, but she did not give in to the grin.She gave me a curt nod, tilting her glass of OJ my way in a faux ‘cheers.’“Fair enough.”

Two hours later, Milo led me into what seemed to be a rather lucrative pub about thirty minutes from their house.It sat right on the edge of what appeared to be a small town.The neon sign on the outside glowed a bright red, blinking the name ‘Nina’s’ boldly.

Nearly every table held patrons, enjoying what smelled like an amazing lunch.I didn’t miss the fact that much like the bar Milo had managed back home, this one also included a bowling alley.There were only four lanes and it was in far better condition than Top Shelf, but nonetheless, I wondered if he’d chosen this place because it reminded him of home.

A bartender with a thick blonde beard sent Milo a nod while pouring someone a beer, and my brother grinned back at him.

“Hey Connie, how’s things going today?”Milo popped open the counter and motioned for me to follow him back.

The man, Connie, offered what could only be presumed to be a smile—it happened so quickly I thought maybe I’d imagined it.“Busy as usual.Chef made the blue cheese sliders and they’re always a hit.”

I repressed the urge to scrunch my face into a grimace.If I hated one food above all else—it was blue cheese.Who in their right mind would voluntarily eatmold?

Milo, who happened to love it, grinned broadly and shot me a satisfied—and definitely taunting—look.I guess it didn’t matter how old they got, little brothers would terrorize their siblings forever.

“Excellent, excellent,” he said to Connie before slapping a hand on my shoulder.“This here is my older brother, Talon.He’s kind of an asshole.Feel free to address him as such.”

I shook his touch off.Dick.

Connie looked between us, but nothing could be read from his stoic expression.“Sounds good.”

Milo chuckled.“And this is Connie, my lead bartender slash manager when I’m not around.”

“So, you manage this place too?”I asked, catching the slight narrowing of Connie’s eyes at my question.

Milo shrugged.“Something like that.Come on.”He began walking toward the dual flap doors that led to the kitchen and back rooms.“I’ll be out in a few, Con.”

We walked through the impeccably cleaned kitchen—nothing like what would be expected in the back of a bar—to what appeared to be an office.Flicking on a lamp, Milo took a seat behind a large ancient desk and threw his feet up on its worn surface, crossing his ankles, and leaning back with a satisfied grin.Comprehension washed over me as I took in the scene—and the name sign that sat beside my brother’s boots.

Miles Wilson

Owner

Miles was the alias he had taken when he’d entered witness protection.He owned this place.An overwhelming dizziness forced me to sit down in one of the chairs parallel from him.A home, a wife, a business.Milo had it all here.And I was really here to upend all of it.

“This is all yours?”I asked, gesturing aimlessly around me.

His nod was curt, and the grin settled into a content curve.“Every square foot.It was pretty rundown when I bought it, but I hired a team to start the renovations before I moved out here to finish it myself.”

“You had this planned before you even left Wisconsin?”

His expression turned serious.“I bought it years ago, Talon.I had this planned before I ever even met Birdie.I was always going to leave.”

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