Page 84 of The Older Brother
“I’m fine. It’s just . . . I can’t get a breath.” My mom’s voice is hoarse, and I doubt they can hear her through the phone line.
“She’s awake and speaking, but she’s having a hard time breathing. She nearly fainted, too. And her skin feels . . .” I lay my hand on her forehead, and she swiftly swats it away. “Moist. She’s sweaty.”
Damnit, she’s having a panic attack.
I grab Caleb’s phone from the table as he rushes to get her a glass of water. I wander out of the conference room door while two of her assistants tend to her.
“I’m sorry. I think she’s likely having a panic attack. She’s in a stressful job. But can you send someone? Just in case?” I don’t want her dying out of spite.
“We’re two minutes away, ma’am. Can you stay on the line with us, please? Keep me up to date on her condition, and answer some basic questions?”
I glance over my shoulder where my mom is now sitting with her head between her knees, and my focus drifts to her hand, which is now gripping the other half of the press release, the part I left on the table when I thought she was ill. She stuffs it into her pants pocket.
“Yes. I can stay on the line.”
My pursed lips grow rigid the longer I stare at my mom through the pane of glass that separates the conference room from the hallway. Caleb rushes by with water, and my mom cradles the mug in her hands as she thanks him. She tips her head back as she sips, then quickly asks for help holding the mug when she’s done. Caleb is quick to help, and as her gaze drifts from her preferred Anderson brother to me, her signature disappointed smirk slides into place.
“I think she’s getting better, if you want to tell them to turn around.” My wry tone probably doesn’t convey my sardonic mood right now, especially in this situation, but damn is my mom good. I’m also less sad about throwing her under the proverbial bus.
“It’s better that we make sure. The firefighters are entering the building. You should see them soon.” I turn when the elevator dings and then move to the side as the paramedics begin taking my mother’s vitals.
“They’re here. Thank you so much.” I end the call and slip back into the room so I can put Caleb’s phone back on the table. I linger as they evaluate my mom for an ambulance ride, and when she refuses, I slip out and take the stairs all the way down to the lobby. Down is always easier than up, anyhow. That’s what makes it so tempting to fall from grace.
Chapter 27
The raid is happening right now.Mike-Steve said nine o’clock sharp. In the forty-eight hours since I’ve known it was coming, it’s occupied every single waking thought. And I hate that, because in the last forty-eight hours, I’ve also moved Saylor’s things into my tiny home. I want to be thinking about that. Celebratingthat.
Maybe in an hour I will. Or perhaps I’ll just begin obsessing over the impending trial, preparing for the hate from my brother and my father’s staff, the guilt for ripping away Saylor’s mother and leaving her without anyone. And then I can drive myself mad worrying that she’ll blame me one day. And then I’ll lose her.
“You’re doing it again,” she says, her fingers pushing into the crease between my brows.
“I haven’t stopped,” I admit. Her breathy laugh hums against my ear as she lies at my side. Saylor’s the only thing that calms the waves in my chest.
She asked to move in with me before leaving for school because of how she left things with her mom the day she pried a confession from her lips. Her moving in here did more for methan her, though. I firmly believe that. I don’t think I would have slept if I didn’t have her rhythm to match.
It took a few days for the warrants to come through, and the grand jury indictments are close behind. The plan is for my father to be in custody long enough for the AG’s office to formally bring charges and then fight any bonds being set. His assets will be frozen soon, if they aren’t already. And in his world, the rats he has for friends tend to scurry at any signs of trouble, so I doubt he’d be able to pay to spend his time waiting for trial in the comforts of his posh home. My only wish is that Caleb is allowed to stay there until he leaves for school. I didn’t get it in writing, but Mike-Steve promised. It was literally my only ask out of this mess. Caleb may be an asshole, but he deserves the chance to make his own bed of trouble and not have to lie in my father’s.
“You aren’t the criminal,” Saylor reminds me. I take her hand as it massages my head and bring it to my mouth, kissing the back.
“Why do I feel like the bad guy, then?” I roll so we’re facing one another, our naked bodies mingling everywhere, legs entwined, chests pressed close, foreheads touching. Her body has been my heroine.
“Because you care a lot more than you put on. You love your family as much as you hate them.” Her truth cuts to the bone.
“Hmm, you may be right.” My hands move to cradle her face as my mouth covers hers. I want this kiss to last forever, to slow time and to put off the inevitable for just a little while. But fate happens when it’s planned to, and my newest reminder comes with a heavy pound against the outside garage bay doors.
I squeeze my eyes shut as Saylor moves to sit up, wrapping herself in my sheets.
“Maybe it’s a customer who can’t read the closed sign,” Saylor offers.
I crack one eye open and smirk.
“Doubtful,” I say, just as another round of pounding rings against the metal siding.
“A persistent customer,” she adds, and I laugh as I get up and slip on a pair of jeans and the black T-shirt I’ve worn two days in a row.
I kiss her softly before she scurries into the bathroom to shower and change, while I check out the insistent visitor at our bay door. I had to let Jersey and Mig in on the legal storm going on because I wanted to keep the business safe. I also wanted to be closed the day the raid went down, an act of caution as well as a buffer to avoid the news cycle for the day. I’m sure my mom will call the moment she gets word, and that will be news enough for me. I won’t let her know my part in any of it. She’s so happy with her life now, and if I’m judged by anything at the end of my life, I hope it’s how much I loved her and made sure she found peace.
The third round of pounding thunders through the garage as I push the key into the padlock.
