Page 20 of Mine
“Blair Leigh Caldwell,” she finally sighed, her voice cautious, as if giving me her name was a piece of herself she wasn’t sure I deserved. Which, to be fair, I didn’t. “I’ve always been called Blue. Dad says it's because of my eyes, others say it’s a play off my name. Doesn’t matter. Blue is all I answer to.”
“It’s pretty,” I said. “Blair suits you.”
She shrugged. “It’s just for doctors and bill collectors.”
I looked over, catching the way her fingers twisted in her lap. She was still in her cutoff shorts and a worn-out T-shirt from work. She looked like every man’s fantasy, and every doorman’s suspicion. Thankfully, we would bypass my doorman through direct access to the top floor, but even if we weren’t, I’d dare him to look sideways at Blue. She may not have liked me much, but she was doing more for me than she would ever realize. Wherever we were, she was going to be respected.
I leaned back against my door, angling to look at her even though I had been trying not to. I wanted to make things more casual, more relaxed. I sucked at being around people. Only my family had ever gotten the side of me that I was trying to pretend to be for her in that moment.
“You’re nervous.”
“I’m questioning my sanity.”
“Hey, look! We already have something in common.”
She glanced at me through the dark, her smile making me feel better. In business, I had never been one for feelings, but I was incredibly aware our transaction wasn’t typical. It wasn’t taking place in a boardroom. There were no team meetings and battles of data and numbers.
If we were going to work, we had to be comfortable around each other, and that meant I had to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. Less intimidating. Less demanding. More charming.
“Tell me more about home,” I prompted, shifting gears. I needed enough details to make this whole thing believable, but more than that, I needed to understand her. Because the more I knew, the more I could protect her from whatever this plan might stir up.
She exhaled, seemingly annoyed again that I had asked her a question, but I waited patiently until she started talking. “Dad has ALS. He hasn’t been able to walk for two years, but we’ve made the housework. My mom left when I was six. She took my older sister, which gutted my dad, but she wasn’t biologically his child, so he couldn't say shit. Dad doesn’t talk about it because he knows I’m bitter, but he still hears from her sometimes. Mostly, I’m just thankful that he raised me on his own. I’ve been working at Fiddlers ever since, trying to give him everything he gave me.”
I turned to stare straight ahead, jaw tight. That was… a lot. My parents died in a fire. Everyone knew that. It was tragic and I blamed myself every day for being the reason. But somehow, being left? Intentionally? Then watching someone she loved suffer for years with no cure in sight? That was a different kind of hell. One that dragged on and didn’t even have the decency to burn everything down all at once.
“I’m not trying to make your life harder,” I said, meaning it.
She didn’t answer. Just turned toward the window, the dim light in the car casting a shadow across her face. She didn’t ask about me. Not that I expected her to. She already knew the basics. Everyone did. I was Miles and Easton’s older brother. The one who left town the moment he got the chance. The one whose parents didn’t make it out. The one who should’ve been home that night, but wasn’t.
That’s all she needed to know, anyway.
Because the rest? The guilt, the grief, the fact that I felt more like a ghost than a man most days?
That wasn’t part of the story she was signing up to fake.
And maybe that was a good thing. Because if she looked too closely, she’d see how little of me was left.
Chapter Eleven
BLUE
The driveinto Atlanta felt like being smuggled into another life. West’s driver maneuvered through late-night traffic with silent precision, then dipped beneath a towering building and into an underground garage. A sleek metal gate lifted without a sound. This wasn’t a parking deck for tenants, it was a private landing zone. For him.
So yeah. West Brooks wasn’t just rich. He was loaded. The kind of rich where your car had its own bed to sleep in for the night.
West stepped out first and held the door open like a gentleman, but still had that quiet command he carried so naturally. Without thinking, I slid my hand into his and followed him to the elevator, which he used his thumbprint to unlock.
That was when it started hitting me that I had agreed to more than I bargained for.
The elevator walls were glass, and as we started moving up, the entire city unfolded beneath us. Lights glittered in every direction, skyscrapers stretched like silver trees into the sky, and I could see highways looping below like glowing ribbons. We climbed and climbed. I didn’t even know buildings in Atlantacould be that tall and I tried not to grip the rail and show my fear.
West didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to. His presence alone filled every inch of space. He was cool. Collected. Meanwhile, my heart was a hummingbird on Red Bull, and it was making me more irrationally pissed off than I had been in the car.
I had left my dad behind for the night. He was fine. I knew he was fine. But that didn’t stop the guilt from digging its claws into my ribs and making everything feel heavier. I was doing this for him, but I still hated the idea of not being home in case he needed something. And I hated even more that this towering, brooding billionaire, had the nerve to make me feel small and out of place by simply existing.
I just wanted to go home.
When the elevator finally opened, West led me into what I first thought was a hotel. Then a luxury condo. Then maybe an upscale office? But then I realized it was his home.
