The Merger

Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

C arys

“Thank you, Gray,” I say, sliding into my seat in the SUV without breaking stride.

Gannon flashes him a look before rounding the vehicle and climbing in beside me. It’s somehow more tense and uncomfortable here than inside the gala.

The privacy curtain drops as Gray maneuvers us onto the street. Classical music fills the cab again. I’m having déjà vu, but something tells me this version might not end in a happy ending.

“Carys, let me explain?—”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“Carys …”

“It’s fine. Really,” I say past the lump in my throat that proves it’s not fine at all.

Who was that beautiful woman talking so intimately with Gannon? She was in his personal space, something he ardently avoids. Their conversation wasn’t full of laughter like old friends, or even natural like they were discussing the weather. Whatever they were discussing was serious. Personal. Private.

And that’s what he’s been worried about. She’s been preoccupying his thoughts. She, the beautiful, elegant woman—the embodiment of who I’ve imagined at Gannon’s side—knows him well. He was okay with her touch. Her presence. Her affection.

While I was on my knees, believing that pleasing him would help him relax, he was probably thinking about seeing her .

Good God, I’m a na?ve, jealous idiot .

I swallow again, willing the lump to subside so I can speak even though I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing more frustrating than putting yourself in a situation that you know will end badly. I’m the fucking queen of it. Someone needs to give me a crown.

Gannon runs a hand through his hair and exhales roughly. “I don’t know what you thought that was, but you are wrong.”

“Here’s the thing about that, Gannon. It’s none of my business.”

“Stop it.”

“It’s not,” I say, looking out the window. I’m just the girl you’re fucking this week.

The thought brings tears to my eyes because I know it’s true. It’s what I asked him for—what I begged him for. “I only want one thing from you. And it’s not your heart.”

So how can I have feelings about him talking to another woman? Hell, Victor stopped to talk to me. I suppose there’s really no difference.

“Her name is Tatum McGavern,” he says, his voice controlled.

“Gannon, please don’t.”

“She’s my ex-wife.”

My face whips to his. “ Your ex-wife ?”

“We got married eleven years ago. We’d been dating for a couple of years, and she’d hinted about wanting to get married. We were in our late twenties and all her friends were getting married. It’s a natural thing to want, I guess.”

“For most people, I guess, so.”

His jaw pulses, and he looks away. “I started working closer with my father at Brewer Group after rebelling for a few years. And the closer I got to him, the more I saw. Just … disgusting behavior. Affairs. Lies. Unethical practices. I’d see all of this and then go into a meeting, and I’d hear just how much I was like my old man.”

He nods slowly, as if he’s reliving the moments.

“They meant it as a compliment, obviously, but it was the worst thing they could’ve said to me,” he says. “I lived my whole life in his shadow. I couldn’t escape the comparisons. I was his namesake, after all.”

His voice catches, shattering my heart. I place both of my hands around his because my presence usually seems to make him relax. But how can I possibly heal the pain of whatever he’s about to say?

“Anyway, Tatum told me she was pregnant. I was stunned. Horrified at first, if I’m being honest. But I knew this was my chance to prove everyone wrong. To do the right thing . To be a man. And I went all in. I married her, built her a house. I worked my ass off to show the world, her, myself, I guess, that I was a family man.” He smiles sadly. “And it all fell apart.”

“What happened?” I whisper.

“There was no baby. And?—”

“What do you mean there was no baby ?”

He shrugs. “Either the test was wrong, or she miscarried. Or she lied, which is a possibility, but I choose not to believe that. It doesn’t really matter.”

Oh, God . I bring his hand to my lips and kiss his palm. I’m so sorry this happened to you, Gannon.

“When you build something without a foundation, it’s bound to fall,” he says. “If she hadn’t gotten pregnant, we would never have married. She got lonely. Thought I was having an affair— which I wasn’t ,” he says, looking so deeply into my eyes that I’m certain that he can see my soul. “We’d fight every fucking night. She’d tell me I was turning into my father and that’s why we weren’t having a baby, because the universe knew I’d be a shitty dad just like mine.”

“That’s not fair,” I say, blinking back tears.

His tongue pushes on the inside of his cheek, his forehead wrinkling. “She probably wasn’t completely wrong about all of that.”

“No,” I say, unbuckling myself. “She doesn’t get to say that to you.”

“She knew me better than anyone,” he says, watching me warily. “I still think about what she said. It’s hard to forget shit like that.” He looks away for a moment, but I still catch his murmured words. “Because there’s still Reid Brewer’s blood in my veins.”

My heart breaks.

“That’s good because I don’t have a heart to give you.”

That’s so wildly untrue.

This woman hurt him so badly that he really believes he’s damaged. Between her and his father, has anyone who was supposed to love him actually done that? Or has everyone in his life hurt him at some point or another? Has no one fought to protect his heart like he fights for everyone else’s?

Oh, sweet Gannon.

I gather my dress and climb into his lap, giving him no choice but to wrap his arms around me. How can I not? He’s gone through hell because of Tatum’s words. Her poison has held him hostage for far too long. I’ll be damned if I let him believe any of those things she said are true.

Her words will be erased by mine.

I nestle against his chest, listening to his heartbeat against my cheek. He holds me close, pressing his lips against the top of my head and holding them there. There’s so much I want to say, but I don’t know where to start … or how to do it tastefully without threatening to commit murder.

“I haven’t known you for very long, really,” I say against the backdrop of Mozart. “But I know everything she said to you was a lie.”

He sways side to side, holding me tight.

“I don’t know your dad, but I’ve heard about him from Tate. And it’s hard to believe that you’re his son. How could someone so terrible and rotten have a child as remarkable as you?”

He chuckles softly against my hair.

“Yeah, you can be an asshole,” I say just to make him laugh. “But it’s all an act because the Gannon Brewer I know is sweet and thoughtful. Kind. Very good at giving oral.”

His laughter grows louder.

I peer up at him and smile. “Want me to go back and fight her?”

His smile is to die for. “No, I don’t want you to go fight her.”

“Gosh, I want to. I want to give her a knuckle sandwich.”

“A knuckle sandwich?” He snorts. “No one says that anymore.”

“I just did.” I sigh. “And I mean it. I hate her.”

“Don’t hate her. She’s not a bad person.”

I huff in disbelief, struggling against him to sit up. “ I beg your finest pardon .”

He pulls me against him again, rolling his eyes at me. Although I am irritated he would defend her, I am glad to see a little levity back in him.

“Listen, buddy, she’s a bad person,” I say. “I’ll go along with you and assume she really was pregnant or thought she was. I’m not comfortable judging that situation. But I am comfortable— really, really comfortable —saying she’s a complete cunt for intentionally trying to hurt you in such a personal, terrible way. Fuck her, Gannon.”

I can’t see his face, so I’m not sure if he’s fighting a smile or if he’s annoyed. And, really, I don’t care.

“This is what it looks like when someone fights for you,” I say. “I know that might be new to you but get used to it. I’m feisty.”

This time, he laughs. “I’m tired of talking about her.”

“I’m not. I haven’t even plotted her demise yet.”

“Stop it, Carys.” His chest vibrates as he laughs. “You’re being silly.”

“Wait until you see my plan. Tate is usually my accomplice in such matters. I wonder how I can bring him into the fold without telling him how I know all this. I just don’t think Courtney has it in her to bury a body.”

“You have to stop,” he says, trying to hold back his laughter. “Please. Stop.”

I nuzzle against him and sigh. “Fine. But just know I’m sitting here wondering where my shovels are.”

He snorts, shaking his head. But he lets it go.

We ride through the streets of Nashville in silence aside from the music on the radio. I wonder if Gannon and Gray have ever realized these songs sound the same. Do they actually listen to this, or is this their version of elevator music?

I relax against Gannon and think about his admissions tonight and how hard it must’ve been for him to open up to me. It’s not in his nature, and now I better understand why. It took a lot of courage to override his pain and share his story. To give me a peek into his past.

And it must mean something that he wanted to share it with me.

Okay, Gannon. I’ll meet you where you are.

“You’re afraid you’ll be your dad, right? Well, I’ll admit something to you, too. I’m afraid to be too vulnerable with men because the one man I needed to love me refused and I’d rather keep that kind of rejection limited to my father.” I shrug. “We’re a fucked-up pair, Brewer.”

His arms flex around me. “Did you remember where your shovels are?”

“What?” I ask, laughing. “Why?”

“Because I’m going to need one to bury your dad.”

“Nah, he’s old. Let him live his life out in misery.”

I catch his reflection in the window. He’s pensive with his forehead wrinkled in thought. But there’s a peacefulness to him that steals my breath, a sense of calm unusual for Gannon.

As much as I hate Tatum, maybe Gannon seeing her tonight was a good thing. Perhaps he knew he needed this closure and that it would be a difficult conversation … so he took me with him.

Take that, Tatum.

“I’ll give him a knuckle sandwich then,” he says.

“Again, he’s old. That’s not a fair match.”

He snorts. “Do you know how old I am? It’d be a fair match.”

“Whatever. You look like you’re thirty and fuck like you’re twenty, so shut up.”

“Hey, I’ll take that.” He smiles against me. “Do you want to talk about your father? I just dumped a load of shit on you about mine, so if you want to dump yours on me, I’m here.”

I shake my head. “No. I’d rather talk about how you could almost be my father.”

“The hell I could! I was …” He pauses to do math. “Thirteen when you were born.”

“Hey, that happens.”

“Not legally.”

I grin, teasing him. “I’m taking it you don’t have a daddy fetish.”

“Stop it, Carys.”

“How many times have you said that to me?” I say, giggling.

“Too fucking many. And you never listen, so I don’t know why I bother.”

I laugh loud and free for the first time since we got back in the SUV. So much happened tonight, but we got through it. We’re getting through it.

Although the thought of getting through it scares the shit out of me, because it insinuates continuity, it gives me peace, too. It makes me … happy.

Gannon rewraps his arms around me. “You’re staying with me this weekend.”

“Was that a question?”

“No.”

“Well, I don’t have clothes, a toothbrush, or my vitamins. I also need my computer for a few things for work because I need to order some supplies for next week. Margot is having me swing by on Wednesday to show her how to care for her orchids.”

“Sounds like a blast.”

“I love orchids.” I smile. “But I’d love to stay the weekend with you if you can arrange for Gray to drop me off at home. I can get my stuff and drive the Gremlin to your house.”

“You and that fucking car.”

I lean up and pout. “That car is my ride or die.”

“Yeah, you can ride in it today until it dies tomorrow.”

“ Don’t say that .”

“Carys, there’s a reason people don’t drive cars from the seventies.”

I smirk. “You’d look so hot driving it.”

“Never going to happen.”

“Please. Just around your driveway.”

“No.”

“ Shirtless .” I moan. “Let me video it and I’ll do something for you. We’ll trade favors.”

He pulls me against him, burying his head in the crook of my neck until I squirm.

The security curtain descends, and the music is turned down. Gray glances back in the rearview mirror as we roll to a stop at a light.

“Mr. Brewer?” he asks.

“Can you take us to Carys’s, please? She needs to get a few things.”

“Address?”

“It’s 3086 Aviana Drive.”

I grin. “ Ooh, that’s good . You didn’t know my name the first time you saw me in Tate’s office, but now you just rattle off my address like it’s nothing? Victory is mine.”

He looks away, trying not to smile.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

“No, what?”

He rolls his eyes. “Like I didn’t know your name.”

“I knew it!” I laugh. “You tried so hard to play the tough guy, but I knew you knew my name.”

His mouth comes to my ear, his breath hot against the shell. “And now I know a lot more about you, my favorite being how you taste.”

“Keep it up and you’ll be proving that via a quickie at my house.”

“How much more do I have to say to ensure that happens?”

I smile, running a finger down his stubble. “You already did.”