Page 23 of Four Stepbrothers for Christmas

I leaned back, sinking into the cushioned chair, attempting to immerse myself in the world of spreadsheets and pie charts. It was supposed to be therapeutic, an escape into the mundane world of numbers where human emotions could not reach. But the tendrils of memory, unbidden and powerful, began to wrap around my consciousness.

The sharp sting of betrayal flashed before my eyes, a wound that had never quite healed. Mindy. The name was enough to conjure up a whirlwind of emotion. Her laughter, the warmth of her touch, the whispered promises—how had it all gone so wrong? The bitterness of our last moments together still lingered, an aftertaste I could never quite wash away. The moment I’d found her with him, withhimof all people, it had shattered a part of me. My supposed friend, the one person I had trusted outside the tight-knit circle of the Gallo brothers. The treachery of it was a blow that still sent ripples through me.

And the worst part? The blame she’d heaped upon me, as if my dedication to my work, my relentless drive, was a justification for her infidelity.

"You're never around, Isaac!" she had yelled, tears streaming down her face, her words a mixture of anger and guilt. "You love your work more than you ever loved me." Those words had stung, tearing open old insecurities, questioning my worth, my priorities.

My grip on the crystal tumbler tightened. I could feel the edges practically cutting into my palm, a slight pain, a small reminder that I was still here, still real, still capable of feeling. I took a deep sip, letting the scotch burn a path down my throat, grounding me in the present.

But every time I closed my eyes, the faces of the brothers and Becca danced before them, bringing forth a different kind of pain, one of longing, of missed opportunities. Here I was, battling the ghosts of my past, while a future — uncertain, alluring — beckoned from just outside my door. But for now, I was trapped in my memories, imprisoned by the scars of past betrayals.

I sipped the scotch, memories flooding my mind of that day…

In New York, at my old apartment in Hell’s Kitchen, I’d walked in on them together. Now Clay, my former friend, was back, having arrived with Mindy to pick up the rest of her things. He’d smooth-talked his way into my apartment, telling me the sooner he got her things and was gone, the sooner it would all be over.

But once the reality hit that he was in my home, I could barely keep the rage at bay.My knuckles turned white, clenched so hard they threatened to break the skin, as Clay sauntered out of my bedroom with an infuriating nonchalance. His careless gaze scanned the room and settled on me with a mocking smirk. It took every ounce of self-control not to launch myself at him. Every inch of me screamed for retribution, for a chance to mete out the pain I felt deep inside.

"Hurry it up, asshole. I want you good and gone," I ground out through gritted teeth.

Clay shrugged, his casual demeanor making my blood boil even more. "Patience, brother. Not good for your heart to get pissed off."

The audacity of the man. To walk into my sanctuary, the place I'd built with the woman he'd stolen, as if he had every right. It felt like a slap in the face, a raw, stinging reminder of the wound that had yet to heal.

I was prepared to let it go. But he pushed me too far.

“Trust me, man, I’m eager to get out of here too. Got a busy day with Mindy ahead… and night.”He followed up his words with a smirk. And I was done.

Without another word, I lunged at him. Vinnie, who’d been there with me, intercepted me just in time, wrapping his arms around my chest in a vice-like grip.

"Enough, Isaac!" he bellowed, dragging me back. His voice, firm and commanding, was enough to pull me back from the precipice, but not enough to quell the storm of anger inside me.

She appeared, entering the front doors as she’d done so many times before.

Mindy's voice sliced through the tense atmosphere. "You really are an asshole, you know that, Isaac?" Her eyes, once soft and adoring, now shot daggers at me. She didn't even look like the woman I fell in love with. Her face was contorted with rage, her eyes aflame with indignation.

She rushed to Clay's side, shooting me a withering look. "You always said you loved me," she spat, her voice dripping with venom, "but all you know iswork– work and jealousy. I pity the woman who falls for you next."

That stung more than any physical blow. With Clay's arm slung over her shoulder, they made their way to the door, leaving Vinnie and me in a room thick with tension and unresolved emotions.

Vinnie let go of me, his face a picture of sympathy and concern. "You okay, bro?"

I didn't answer. My thoughts were a whirlwind, a cacophony of pain, anger, and regret. Watching Mindy leave with Clay was the final nail in the coffin of our relationship. The love I'd thought was unbreakable had shattered into a million pieces. And as I stood there, in the echoing silence of my once-shared home, I swore to never let anyone get that close again.

* * *

As I leaned back in the familiar comfort of my leather office chair, memories of Mindy and Clay pressed heavily on my chest. The aftertaste of the scotch I sipped was a bitter reminder of countless nights I'd tried to numb my pain. Back then, the golden liquid was my escape, a temporary relief from the heartache.

There were nights, blurred and hazy, when I'd return home, eyes barely focusing, only to find one of the Gallo brothers waiting for me. They saw me at my lowest, bearing silent witness to my shattered soul. Archer, with his unspoken strength; Vinnie, the jester, always trying to make me smile; and Luke, grounding me with his wisdom.

I glanced at the scotch bottle on my desk. It was more than half-empty, but its pull had faded. The Gallo brothers had seen to that, making me realize such solace was fleeting.

And in the midst of my recovery, Becca had come into my life. Her very presence was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. I found myself irresistibly drawn to her, yet every time I edged closer, the ghosts of my past held me back. The sting of Mindy's betrayal was still fresh, making the idea of opening up again a daunting prospect.

I swiveled my chair, gazing out at the night bathed in moonlight. The serenity outside was in stark contrast to the storm within me.

"I'm not her," a voice echoed in my mind. It was Becca, speaking words she’d never said to me but words I could imagine her saying. Even though I never spilled my fears, it seemed she sensed them.

A sigh escaped my lips. Was I ready to put my heart on the line again? Could I let Becca in?

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