Page 107 of The Bourbon Bet
I grab my phone. Again. And not to call my brother. The compulsion to atone and win back Rosalia is constant. The screen unlocks to her contact information, her name blurring as I stare at it. How many times have I done this since she walked away from me, heels clicking against the pavement, each step widening the chasm between us?
Daniel’s accusation won’t leave me alone. “You set up these arbitrary tests for people, expecting them to pass without even knowing they’re being tested.” Is he right? Have I been sabotaging every relationship, waiting for people to fail tests they don’t know they’re taking?
Leaning back in my armchair, I look up at the ceiling like the answers will be hiding among the crown molding. Instead, unrest crawls over me like ants, making it impossible to focus. The agreement’s clauses blur together, all of them meaningless compared to what I’ve thrown away.
The silence of the house presses in around me, and I stand, moving to the open window where a large couch sits beneath it. On it, Twain lies curled up asleep. Maybe I’ll take him for a walk after Thorne leaves, or visit the horses. At least animals don’t judge you for your mistakes, don’t look at you with eyes that say you’ve shattered their world.
There’s a knock at my door and my housekeeper steps through. “Mr. Thorne Blackstone is here, sir,” she says, professionally neutral despite knowing the strained history between us.
“Thank you, Alex. Send him in.”
My brother walks in, and my slouched shoulders snap back. My fingers stop their restless tapping, curling slightly at my sides. The exhaustion that’s been weighing me down evaporates in an instant, replaced by the wary readiness that’s become a reflex whenever we’re in the same room.
Even with his fading black eye, he carries himself with that infuriating Blackstone confidence that makes me want to punch him again. Sure, it had been so satisfying at the moment, watching him stumble against those portraits of derby winners, but it was meaningless. It hasn’t changed anything. He’s still here and Rosalia is still gone.
Alex closes the door behind her with a soft click. I move from the window seat to one of the armchairs flanking the coffee table and gesture to the seat opposite. “Sit down. We need to talk.”
Thorne takes the seat, his expression unreadable. “I figured this was coming.”
“Things can’t continue like this. Neither of us won that stupid bet, so we’re stuck with each other, but I refuse to let that destroy Blackstone Distilleries.”
“I agree,” he says.
I’m surprised by his quick acquiescence, but don’t pause to dissect the meaning. “I’ve been thinking about solutions. I had Daniel draft this non-interaction agreement.” I push the papers toward him.
He glances at the document, then looks out the window. The casual dismissal makes my chest tighten, heat flooding through me.
“You know what? I’m done pretending this is only about business. We both know it isn’t.” My voice rises. “Whatever connected us as brothers is gone. The blood we share means nothing anymore. You’re like a fucking black hole, sucking the joy out of my life at every turn.”
I exhale deeply, needing to regain control. “I can’t blame you for the lies I told Rosalia. That’s on me. But I blame you for setting this whole thing in motion. For blocking her loans at every bank in town.” I point at him. “There’s no proof, but I know you did it. And that’s low, even for you.”
His gaze flickers to me, the paper, and back out the fucking window. I slam my palm against the coffee table, making the papers jump.
“Look at me.” When he does, I say, “But the company doesn’t deserve to suffer because we can’t get our shit together. So I’m telling you, we have to find a way to make this work, or one of us walks away entirely.”
Thorne continues to watch me. The hard line of his jaw softens. His shoulders drop an inch, as if the indifference he wears like armor is cracking at the edges.
He taps his knuckles lightly against his knee before saying, “I am.”
I halt, my practiced lecture derailing. “You are what?”
“I’ve decided to transfer to our Quebec location. I can handle our acquisitions just as effectively from there. I’m leaving at the end of the month,” Thorne says. “I’m heading to the airport after this to finalize arrangements. I had our legal team start the paperwork yesterday.” The words don’t compute, like he’s switched to a foreign language. I blink several times, my hand frozen mid-air. “What? Why? I’ve read the contract a thousand times. There’s no clear winner.”
“The bet isn’t why I’m leaving.” He sighs. “Well, inadvertently it is.”
Yet I find myself asking. “How so?”
“I saw the way Rosalia looks at you. It was the same way you watched her, like a person in love. I didn’t think that shit existed.”
“It does. I love her.”
He nods like this doesn’t surprise him. “And she must love you. Because why else would she not go through with it?”
The ground shifts beneath me. I stare at my brother. “What did you say?”
“At the party, she told me she wouldn’t do it.” His usual condescension is absent, replaced by what sounds almost like genuine appreciation. “She said she couldn’t hurt you, no matter what it cost her.”
My chest cracks open like a dam breaking. Even when cornered, even when I'd given her every reason to protect herself at my expense, she chose loyalty. To me. While I was busy testing her, she was busy protecting me.
