Page 20 of Embrace
“Penina is a surgeon in the hospital and a beautiful woman that I’m crazy about,” I admitted.
Spence tossed his head back. “Ah, I see. No wonder you asked me right up front. Is that why you showed up?” He was still grinning in a way that didn’t register as dick-like, so I knew he wasn’t being one.
“Sort of. I also wanted to see you,” I was happy to admit.
Spence stood and held his arms out. “Then can I finally get a fucking hug?”
I grunted as I leapt to my feet. Then we bear-hugged each other. It felt good to be in my brother’s life again.
“I need to talk to you about one more thing,” he said.
I was still at ease with him, but I could tell that the other shoe was about to drop.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Did you and Bryn put Father out of his misery?”
We sat down again.
I rubbed the tension out of the back of my neck. Frankly, the business of Bryn and I snuffing our father out was coming up way too much for my comfort. “Have you spoken to Bryn?”
“Yes,” he said, nodding firmly.
I scratched my forehead. “And what did she say?”
“Bryn said she can’t talk about it without you.”
I pushed my shoulders back. “And I can’t say anything without her.” Our pact was childish, that was for sure, but my sister and I had made a deal never to talk about what happened before our father took his last breath without the other’s permission.
Spencer grunted. He was used to Bryn and me sticking together. “I guess we have to get you both in the same room. But you really haven’t heard what they’re accusing you of?”
I was still frowning about his suggesting that he, Bryn, and I—and I was sure Jasper too—would be in the same room again. Those sorts of gatherings never went well for us.
He was still waiting for me to answer his question.
“Spence, I’m a surgeon. I spend three-quarters of my life in the OR. And the people who work in the hospital don’t give a fuck about the Christmases.”
Spencer grinned again. He looked proud. “Fuck, Ash, I couldn’t believe it when Si told me you were a neurosurgeon.” He said “neurosurgeon” in the same tone in which he’d say I was the president of the United States or something. “You cut people’s heads open and work on their brains.”
I leaned away from him. “Si?”
“Yeah, I put two and two together when Pete Sykes bought the medical center where Simon Brown was chief of surgery.”
I nodded. “I was sloppy then.”
“Pretty much.”
I shrugged, knowing I definitely could’ve tried harder to be cleaner. “But I thought Gina might have mentioned where I was to you.” I then communicated how one of her friends had made me at Bartleby Leonard’s annual masquerade party the other night—he was an associate of our family’s. I relayed how I had taken the risk of going because Penina had said she hadn’t had a real night on the town in a long time, and I wanted to be the one to show her some fun.
“I can understand that,” Spencer said. “I spoke to Gina a few weeks ago, before I dropped out of the Senate race.”
I pointed my index finger at him. “I heard you were running for the Senate. I never knew you were interested in politics.”
A smirk passed across Spence’s mouth, evaporating just as fast as it showed up. “I wasn’t. But the shit we’d do for the women we love.”
“Ha,” I scoffed. “I can understand that.”
The glint in his eyes meant he’d caught my joke. That sort of light back-and-forth banter wasn’t normal for us. He would usually scowl about what I had just said, and I would give him something to really be offended about. There was never any peace in our relationship. And his negativity, and mine as well, could overpower a room and suck the oxygen and joy right out of it. So far, we were swimming in oxygen and, surprisingly, a whole lot of joy too.
