Page 44 of There's No Us Without You
There isn’t another version of me that’s any better.
I’ve been a lost cause for years, even more so since I cut my brother off two years ago. Maybe at one point, I thought we could move on from our past and become a family.
One that gives a shit about each other, and not like the one we were brought up in.
But any chance of that happening disintegrated when he betrayed me—betrayed our mother, or what little I had left of her.
Yet here I am, still protecting him, even though he doesn’t deserve it. Unfortunately, being someone’s big brother doesn’t just go away when you stop talking to them.
“I should go,” Corbin says, bringing my attention back to the fact he’s still standing next to me.
“Fuck, sorry.” I pinch the bridge of my nose as I lean forward on my chair. It squeaks under the pressure, the sound piercing through my brain like nails down a chalkboard.
“It was good to see you.” Corbin gives me a small smile, reminding me how pretty he is.
I nod. “You too. And sorry about”—I wave a hand at the door—“that.”
With a shrug, he walks towards the exit. “All good. Good luck with your brother.” Seconds later, he disappears out the door, closing it behind him.
Sinking back into the chair, I let out a breath and turn to my desk again.
Twenty minutes later—and a new dent in my bank account—my phone alerts me to a text message.
If this is Emerson again, I swear I will bury him with his damn phone. I may love the guy, but if I have to see one more GIF of a smaller dog humping the leg of a larger dog, I will cry.
When I open the message, I relax my entire body until I notice who the messageisfrom.
Tyler: At some point, you have to talk to me.
Me: No. I don’t.
Tyler: Well I’m not going anywhere.
Me: Whatever.
Tyler: This is the most you’ve said to me in years. Progress is good.
Me: Don’t get used to it.
I throw my phone on the desk and sink into my chair while I rub my temples with my fingertips. A glance down at my crotch lets me know that no amount of jerking off is going to tame the beast inside me.
I need to get out of here. I’m going out of my damn mind, and I need fresh air.
If I keep losing my control, it’ll only lead to weakness. And weakness leads to people taking advantage of you.
Just like my father did.
When I exit my office, April is dancing around behind the bar, headphones on, while she sorts through the cash register. Two more of my employees—Trevor and Tom—are lugging kegs up from the downstairs cellar, swapping the empties for full ones.
Tommy lifts his chin my way, a keg on one shoulder.
“That thing better be empty,” I say, pointing at him.
He grins. “You think I’d be standing if it was full?”
Those kegs can weigh up to seventy kilos full, but empty about fifteen. The last thing I need is for someone to injure themselves by being a dickhead.
“Lucky,” I say, waving a hand above my head as I reach the exit. “I’ll be back.”
