Page 79 of The Older Brother
I flatten my palms on either side of the page and pour over the words without the pressure of holding a phone to my ear. Everything reads legit, not that I know a damn thing about how a tech company rolls out a press release. But there’s something funny about the number on the PR company listed as thecontact. It’s familiar, a six-oh-two area code just like ours. And the first three numbers are ones I’ve seen often, pretty much on every business card ever issued from Brogan-Tackerly. But it’s more than that. I feel like Iknowthis number. I type it into my phone, following my gut, and as I close in on the final number, my contact list pulls up my worst fear.Allison Kelly.
“What are you doing in here?” Saylor’s voice breaks through the thick silence I’ve cultivated, and I jump back into the chair and gasp.
“Are you . . . working?” She slides closer to the desk in her socks, her long T-shirt barely grazing the tops of her thighs. I wish I was simply in here making a call to Mig or writing Saylor a love letter. Anything but what I’m actually doing.
“Is that my mom’s?” Her brow dents as her gaze moves from the press release to my face. I should probably be a better liar. I’ve spent years doing it, keeping the fire a secret, and the affair. But there’s something about Saylor’s eyes, the way they feel as if they’re looking right through me, reading my story for what it is rather than the rewrites I wish people would see.
I swallow hard.
“Rowan?” The way her voice cracks and her head tilts breaks my heart.
“I can explain.” And I guess I can, but fuck is it going to get messy. And it’s only going to hurt her more.
“I’m listening.” Her hands are balled at her side, her arms straight as arrows as she sways on her feet.
My long, deep breath does little to settle my nerves, and while I want to look Saylor in the eyes, I’m finding it hard for my tongue to work when I do. I drop my gaze to the press release and my phone, Allison’s contact pulled up on the screen, and I shake my head.
“It’s such a fucking mess,” I mumble.
“What’s a mess, Rowan. I’m starting to worry.” She steps a little closer, her fingertips now clinging to the edge of the desk as her eyes hold onto mine. I wish I could hold on, too.
My gaze drops again, along with my shoulders, my body sagging in defeat.
“Turns out my dad is guilty of insider trading, and probably a host of other federal fraud charges.” My mouth sours, and I know that taste isn’t due to my dad. It’s for Saylor. It’s all for Saylor. Everything I feel is for her.
“Okay, well . . . that probably tracks.” Her voice conveys lightness, and I admire her effort to make this into a joke. But it’s too serious. And again, it’s only heavy because now it touches her—Saylor’s world.
I lift my gaze, and I must not be bluffing very well, because Saylor backs up a step when our eyes make contact, and she utters, “Oh.”
She moves to the chair a few feet behind her, her hands gripping the arms as she slowly sits down.
I chew at my lower lip as I mentally organize my words. There are so many working parts to this now, and I’m not sure where to begin.
“The day I ran into you up north? When I picked up the car?” I begin.
Saylor nods.
“The guy who sold it to me was my parole officer. Except, it turns out, he’s not really my parole officer. He’s a federal investigator. And my entire parole was a decoy just to get me under the feds’ thumb.”
Her brow puzzles with confusion, and I shake my head in frustration.
“I know. I’m not explaining this well. But just hear me out. When I met him up north, the car sale was a cover. I didn’t know until then, and he unloaded all this evidence they have on mydad while we pretended to be talking about a classic Corvette in a Flagstaff diner. Saylor, they want to put him away for years. And they gave me this wire to wear?—”
“You’re wearing a wire?” she blurts out.
My crooked smile and short laugh are automatic as I pat my bare chest.
“Oh, fair point,” she says in a hushed tone, easing back into her seat.
“It’s in my car. It’s always in my fucking car. It feels like I’m driving around explosives, and it’s always on my mind. And I keep trying to figure out how to say the right thing to my dad when we’re alone to get him to spill the truth on tape. And it sucks because he tricked Caleb and me into signing a deal that makes us part owners.”
“You . . . and Caleb. He tricked you?” I feel foolish as she puts it so plain.
“The truth is, I was so busy sparring with my brother and chipping away at his ego that I didn’t pay attention like I should have. I thought we were signing documents for his will. And I knew something felt weird, but then Caleb signed and taunted me, and my father was pushing, and I just . . .” I hold out my open palms to show my regrets. I gave in. I reverted to being that little boy my father used to yell at, the one who wanted him to approve of me, to keep my brother out of trouble. And even now that Caleb resents me, I’m still trying to save his ass.
“Then why are you at my mom’s desk? Is she part of this?” Her eyes glance at the press release, and I follow her gaze to the number at the top, the one that matches Allison’s.
“Saylor, I think she’s helping my dad. And I don’t know what to do about it. But some of the clues are just . . . Saylor, they’re bad.”
