Page 20 of Crushing On My Brothers BFF

“If you want a place in the company, it’s there, always. Hell, you can even buy half my shares at a discount.”

“That’s a big risk,” he points out.

“Only if I thought you’d ever betray me.”

I don’t think about the irony of what I’m saying until the words are out of my mouth. I’m taking it because it’s a given he’d never betray me when I’ve done just that.

“Thanks, Kaleb,” he says. “I thought you might be pissed, honestly. I can’t just leave and join the company whenever I want.”

After what I did, he can do a whole lot more than that any goddamn time he wants. He could walk into the offices tomorrow and start giving orders if it meant he’d forgive me for what I did. This is twisting me up. I shouldn’t be thinking like this about the company.

“The company would be better to have you with us,” I tell him. “This isn’t charity.”

“It’s just a possibility, anyway,” he replies. “I wanted to see if you’d be up for it, that’s all.”

“I am,” I say. “Completely.”

“Thanks, bro. I’ll talk to Sophie about the video. Speak later.”

There it is again.Bro. I hate the fact it makes me cringe.

I drive back to my hotel. Oh, dammit. There are a bunch of vultures outside, paparazzi with their cameras around their necks, looking up and down the street. I pull up illegally onto a curb, watching them, wondering if I should circle around and wait. Why should I? These people have no shame.

Taking out my phone, I check the video. It still only has a few thousand views. After about a minute, the paparazzi turn and start rushing down the street. They’re not here for me. A woman I vaguely recognize is leaving by a service entrance, with four tall security guards surrounding her. The vultures have no shame, sprinting toward her.

A mother and her daughter jump out of the way, but not fast enough. One bumps into the mother so hard she stumbles against the wall. Then she looks around. Her daughter is gone. Jesus Christ, she’s caught up in the flood of paparazzi, swept along with them, running as if she’s too scared to break away from the crowd. The mother hasn’t seen it.

I jump from the car and jog across the street. At least twenty of them are yelling at the celebrity, oblivious of the little girl.

“Move,”I snap.

Several of them turn to me. One of them, a young man with a cocky, infuriating little smirk on his face, starts to laugh. Then he sees me, and the laughter stops. He takes a step back.

“You—”

Fucking rat, I almost say, but then the little shit aims his camera at me, his only defense. I ignore it, walking ahead and motioning several of them aside. It’s not difficult. They’re all shorter than me, smaller, and they’re cowards.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” I tell the girl, leaning down and scooping her into my arms.

“M-M-Mommy,” she cries, throwing her head back.

I carry her down the street, ignoring the cameras, and hand her to her mother. “Oh, God. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Suddenly, a man jogs over. He’s short and not especially fit, but he gives me a dark, serious look, telling me he’s the sort of father any child would be grateful to have. He’s sizing me up like he’s wondering if I’m why his daughter is crying.

The woman touches his arm. “She got swept up with them. He saved her.”

The man visibly relaxes. “Assholes,” he snaps, then offers me his hand. “Thank you, sir.”

“Don’t mention it,” I tell him, then turn toward my car.

Now, the cameras are all aimed at me. I don’t have to wonder if they’ve recognized me. Or if somebody has told them who I am. They hound me toward the car, snapping photos and shouting questions.

“Why are you on the West Coast, Mr. Kennsion?”

“Is your company failing, Kaleb?”

I slam the door, turn the car, and drive straight at the pricks. Not fast. I give them enough time to get out of the way. They’re lucky they get that much. A strange feeling grips me as I drive away. I get as far from these bastards as I can before I do something I regret. When I saw that lost little girl, for a second, I thought about having a family myself.

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