Page 12 of The Wrong Brother

Brett shrugs, grinning in that nonchalant way of his. “It’s practical, believe it or not,” he says. “When I’ve got my hands full, it’s easier to tuck the glass in my pocket. Then, when it’s time to pour, it’s right there.”

I raise an eyebrow, shaking my head. “You know, they do make trays. And of course you can also use your hand.”

“Yeah, but where’s the charm in that?” he replies, giving a wink.

He’s clearly in better spirits, and as we walk, he grows more animated, his thoughts wandering back to Jenny. “You know, it’s crazy,” he says, almost to himself. “I didn’t even recognize her at first. Just saw this gorgeous woman at the airport, had no idea it was Jenny. She turned around, and…there it was. That spark. The same one she used to have as a kid, but... different now. More confident, like she’s finally found herself.”

I say nothing, letting him continue as he tries to make sense of his own fascination. “It’s funny, right? She was just that tomboyish kid, always darting around the estate like she belonged everywhere and nowhere all at once. But now... she’s something else entirely. She walks into a room, and it’s like everything just stops.”

He chuckles, almost in disbelief. “Makes me wonder if she’s always been like this, and maybe I just never saw it. Or maybe she really has changed, like... she knows who she is, and it’s refreshing. No games, no pretense.”

We reach my office, and by now, he’s lost in his reverie, oblivious to the glass in his back pocket.

“Have a seat,” I say, and without a second thought, he drops into the chair, mid-sentence, leaning back with that same easy confidence. There’s an immediate crack, a sharp shatter of glass, followed by his yelp as he jerks upright, eyes wide with pain, hands flying to his back.

“Damn it, Zack!” he exclaims, wincing as he gingerly reaches around, fingers coming back with blood. “The glass…it shattered!”

I step forward, barely containing my smirk. “Well, that ‘practical habit’ of yours just caught up with you.” I grab a pair of scissors and carefully cut the fabric around the shards, revealing pieces embedded in his backside, spots of blood already visible on his pants.

“You’re going to need a few days lying flat for this to stop hurting,” I tell him, struggling to keep my tone sympathetic. “And maybe it’s time to drop that little habit.”

Brett lets out a frustrated groan as he lowers himself face-first onto the couch, resigned. “Just my luck,” he mutters. “Please call the doctor. It’s fucking hurting, and I don’t want any scars or infection. It’s bleeding, right?”

“Sure is,” I reply.

“Hell!”

I lead him over to my couch where he settles horizontally and then head out of the office to call the doctor.

Chapter

Nine

JENNY

The conservatory is still, the air thick with the scent of blooming flowers. I can hardly think straight, my mind buzzing with everything I’ve heard tonight about Brett’s engagement. I shouldn’t care. I should turn away and let him go, but a part of me isn’t ready to give up so easily. The door creaks open, and I tense, expecting Brett…ready to face him, maybe even to demand answers.

But it’s Zack who walks in, not Brett.

I stiffen, thrown off by his unexpected presence. My heart picks up, both wary and puzzled.

What is Zack doing here? Where’s Brett?

He moves with his usual calm confidence, dark eyes fixed on me as he approaches with a bottle of champagne and two glasses in hand. My heart beats faster.

Zack’s dark eyes meet mine, unreadable and intense, like he can see through any façade I might put up. He doesn’t break eyecontact as he approaches, stopping just close enough that I feel the weight of his gaze.

“Jenny,” he says, his voice low, almost too casual. “Brett won’t be joining you tonight. He’s had… an accident.”

A wave of worry hits me, sharp and immediate. “An accident?” I ask, my voice tight despite my attempt to stay composed. “Is he hurt? Where is he?”

Zack raises a hand, his expression calm and steady, as if to keep me from spiraling. “He’s fine, Jenny. Nothing too serious,” he assures me. “He just needs to stay off his feet and rest for a few days.”

Relief washes over me, though it’s quickly replaced by lingering concern. “But… what happened? How did he get hurt?” I press, needing to know more.

Zack hesitates, glancing away briefly before meeting my gaze again. “Brett asked me not to share the details,” he says evenly, almost too controlled. “He’s resting, that’s what matters.”

He pauses, watching me closely as he uncorks the bottle, pouring a glass of champagne and handing it to me. “It seems you’re left with me tonight.”

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