Page 81 of The Wrong Brother

His voice held nothing but indifference. No happy tone whatsoever. Sure, he wouldn’t ignore the knock, but he couldn’t muster about any bright emotion in his tone.

Ms. Wallace opened the door and stepped inside. “It’s time to leave. I thought you might want to walk down with me.” The kindness and understanding in her eyes made him so appreciative he had such a wonderful secretary. Truly, a heart of gold.

“I’m not quite ready. But Barry will see you to the bus stop. Have a good night.”

Her eyes portrayed she wanted to argue, but she nodded and closed the door, leaving him once again to his misery.

It had been two weeks.

Two, long agonizing weeks without Gabriella in his life.

He hadn’t tried to call.

He hadn’t tried to visit.

Sadly, she hadn’t tried either option either.

He vowed he’d smell the roses more often, not let work consume him. He wouldn’t let this breakup change him back into the man he used to be. But it only lasted one day. He’d been working late into the night every other night.

He had nowhere to go. No good reason not to work. His apartment wasn’t appealing. It was a place he slept and showered. Nothing more. It wasn’t a home. The home that felt like a home—Gabriella’s apartment—wasn’t his home. Not anymore.

Not after she kicked him out of her life.

Could he blame her? Nope. Not after the disastrous supper with his family.

His mother—God, he loved his mother—she had called once asking about Gabriella. He had to confess they weren’t seeing each other any longer. He heard the disappointment in her voice, which he knew he’d hear. But he couldn’t lie. Not to his mother.

As if an unasked prayer from heaven, his brother hadn’t ventured into his domain once. Probably because things were back to the normal status quo. He was doing all the work again.

Well, the last laugh would be on Champ. He couldn’t wait to see his expression when he found out.

Hell, the bastard wouldn’t even care. Nor his father.

He stared at the open folder, wondering why he was still in the office. Why didn’t he go down with Ms. Wallace? He should’ve. It was Friday. He could do so many other things.

This folder. This piece of paper, and the ones below it, meant nothing to him anymore.

He closed it and stood up. Grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair, he slung it on and left the office. He didn’t even glance back.

A moment of terror entered his system, almost pitching him to the floor in agony, but he managed to stay upright and at a fluid pace.

The trip down the elevator felt cathartic. Sad and disheartening, yet quite uplifting and exhilarating.

Another slice of terror hit him when he stepped out of the building. He stood there a moment, frozen. His body immobile, his insides twisting with dread and unease.

“Move it, man. You’re in the way,” some random guy said, bumping his shoulder.

That jolted him out of his stupor.

He walked away from the building and hailed a cab. When he knew he couldn’t see the building any longer, a weight lifted from his shoulders. A heavy weight that had held him down for far too long—way longer than he should’ve allowed.

He paid the cabbie when he arrived at his destination, almost hesitating to tell the driver to take him home instead.

Hell, no. Tonight was for him. He’d end it how he wanted to.

He strolled into The Corner Bar and took a seat at the end of the bar away from the other patrons. He’d never been here on a Friday night, so he didn’t know how busy it would get, but for now, it wasn’t too full, and this area was free of other people.

Brick—or Rick—stopped in front of him with a beer ready for him. “This looks like this one might be on the house.”

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