Chapter 27
The raid is happening right now. Mike-Steve said nine o’clock sharp.
In the forty-eight hours since I’ve known it was coming, it’s occupied every single waking thought.
And I hate that, because in the last forty-eight hours, I’ve also moved Saylor’s things into my tiny home.
I want to be thinking about that. Celebrating that.
Maybe in an hour I will. Or perhaps I’ll just begin obsessing over the impending trial, preparing for the hate from my brother and my father’s staff, the guilt for ripping away Saylor’s mother and leaving her without anyone.
And then I can drive myself mad worrying that she’ll blame me one day. And then I’ll lose her.
“You’re doing it again,” she says, her fingers pushing into the crease between my brows.
“I haven’t stopped,” I admit. Her breathy laugh hums against my ear as she lies at my side. Saylor’s the only thing that calms the waves in my chest.
She asked to move in with me before leaving for school because of how she left things with her mom the day she pried a confession from her lips. Her moving in here did more for me than her, though. I firmly believe that. I don’t think I would have slept if I didn’t have her rhythm to match.
It took a few days for the warrants to come through, and the grand jury indictments are close behind.
The plan is for my father to be in custody long enough for the AG’s office to formally bring charges and then fight any bonds being set.
His assets will be frozen soon, if they aren’t already.
And in his world, the rats he has for friends tend to scurry at any signs of trouble, so I doubt he’d be able to pay to spend his time waiting for trial in the comforts of his posh home.
My only wish is that Caleb is allowed to stay there until he leaves for school.
I didn’t get it in writing, but Mike-Steve promised.
It was literally my only ask out of this mess.
Caleb may be an asshole, but he deserves the chance to make his own bed of trouble and not have to lie in my father’s.
“You aren’t the criminal,” Saylor reminds me. I take her hand as it massages my head and bring it to my mouth, kissing the back.
“Why do I feel like the bad guy, then?” I roll so we’re facing one another, our naked bodies mingling everywhere, legs entwined, chests pressed close, foreheads touching. Her body has been my heroine.
“Because you care a lot more than you put on. You love your family as much as you hate them.” Her truth cuts to the bone.
“Hmm, you may be right.” My hands move to cradle her face as my mouth covers hers.
I want this kiss to last forever, to slow time and to put off the inevitable for just a little while.
But fate happens when it’s planned to, and my newest reminder comes with a heavy pound against the outside garage bay doors.
I squeeze my eyes shut as Saylor moves to sit up, wrapping herself in my sheets.
“Maybe it’s a customer who can’t read the closed sign,” Saylor offers.
I crack one eye open and smirk.
“Doubtful,” I say, just as another round of pounding rings against the metal siding.
“A persistent customer,” she adds, and I laugh as I get up and slip on a pair of jeans and the black T-shirt I’ve worn two days in a row.
I kiss her softly before she scurries into the bathroom to shower and change, while I check out the insistent visitor at our bay door.
I had to let Jersey and Mig in on the legal storm going on because I wanted to keep the business safe.
I also wanted to be closed the day the raid went down, an act of caution as well as a buffer to avoid the news cycle for the day.
I’m sure my mom will call the moment she gets word, and that will be news enough for me.
I won’t let her know my part in any of it.
She’s so happy with her life now, and if I’m judged by anything at the end of my life, I hope it’s how much I loved her and made sure she found peace.
The third round of pounding thunders through the garage as I push the key into the padlock.
“Hold your ass, I’m opening up!” I punch in the code once the backup lock is undone, and the door begins to roll up with ease as I give it a push from the inside.
My eyes are barely able to make out Caleb’s face before his fist sails into my nose, and I stumble back several feet and land on my hip and palm.
‘Fucking fuck!” The blood runs into my lip, the acrid taste of metal making me want to throw up while I stumble to the towel bin and grab a handful of them to stop the bleeding.
“What did you do? I know this is you, Rowan. It’s always you, so tell me . . . what the fuck did you do?” Caleb comes at me, lunging with his fist, but I’m able to block his punch, catching his fist in my open hand.
I push him back, bending his wrist and nearly breaking it as I growl out, “Calm your ass down!”
He shirks me off and runs his forearm along his nose.
“You’re not the one bleeding, you shit. What are you sniffling for?” I pull the towel back to test the bleed, and it’s already soaking with crimson red. “Fuck,” I mutter, tossing the soiled towels into the corner and grabbing a new handful.
“The feds came in today. Did you know that? I bet you knew that already. They tossed over every drawer in the office, made Allison and me and the rest of the staff wait in the break room while they took us out one at a time to interview us. I was grilled like I’d committed some sort of murder, Rowan!
The guy warned me that any lie I told meant years in prison. What the fuck did you get us into?”
He thrusts two palms into my chest, sending me back a few steps into the counter.
I catch myself against the sharp edge and lunge back at him, pushing him several times until he falls on his ass and begins to scurry his feet to scoot away from me.
I squat down, tossing my bloodied towels to the side again as I grab a fistful of his expensive shirt and tie.
“I didn’t do shit, Caleb. Dad did. And it’s his fault that any of this is happening,” I growl.
“You fucking lie!” he screams, his face red, and our roles suddenly becoming clear-cut. I’m the older brother. He’s my little brother. He’s scared, and I’m supposed to keep the bad guys away. Only this time, the bad guy happened to be one of ours.
“He’s not lying, Caleb.” Saylor’s calm voice cuts through the toxic air between my brother and me, and I stand up and take a few steps back to give him space as we both look at her.
“Jesus, Rowan. Your face.” She’s wearing my clothes, and I’m sure that’s all Caleb is focusing on as she pads in her bare feet to the towel bin, grabbing twice as many as I’ve been using before delivering them to me.
“I got it,” I say, taking a few from her. She gives me a hard look, though, so I let my shoulders sag before pulling a stool close so I can sit and let her tend to my busted nose.
“He got a good shot in,” I say, figuring giving my brother credit for the cheap shot might calm him down a little.
“I got a few in,” he adds. Fucker still can’t just take what he gets. He always needs to embellish. I glance at Saylor for a beat, but she’s focused on the rage display that walked into her refuge.
For a few long seconds, the only sound filling the garage is Caleb and my panting sounds and the occasional tsk from Saylor as she pinches the bridge of my nose and presses a second towel up and into my nasal passages.
I can barely breathe. I’m going to need to get this thing looked at. It’s broken.
“I don’t know why you’re defending him,” Caleb finally gripes. “They took your mom in. Put her in cuffs. Your mom, Saylor.”
She draws in a long, steady breath as she studies my brother.
“Good. She probably deserved it.” Her resolved tone only sets Caleb off again, and he gets to his feet and begins to pace around us in circles.
“Oh, he’s got you so poisoned now. You guys are unbelievable. You’re so into this eat the rich mantra that you can’t even see how crazy you are. Just because our dad makes a shit ton of money doesn’t make him a bad person, Rowan. How have you never seen that?”
My heart nearly aches for my brother’s naivety. Nearly. But not quite.
“Caleb, I don’t think our dad is an asshole for being rich. I think he’s an asshole . . . period. He’s a bad guy, and he’s done some awful things. If you only knew.”
“So, tell me,” Caleb challenges.
I exhale, because as much as I’d love to rattle off the list, I swore I wouldn’t make him more involved than he needs to be.
“Your dad slept with my mom. It’s why my parents divorced. And it’s why your mom left. And why she set the beach house on fire.” Well fuck. I guess Saylor didn’t make any promises.
Caleb’s head begins to shake with his sudden laughter.
“That’s absurd.” He knows it’s not. I can tell by the nervous tinge in his voice, the high pitch of his laugh, the way his smile isn’t reaching his eyes. And when his gaze slides to mine, I can’t lie anymore.
“I didn’t burn down the beach house,” I say, and the way my insides begin to buzz with a thousand volts of electricity makes me wonder if I’m about to die or lift off and fly.
The relief of saying it out loud, for a second time, is intense. Perhaps even more because it’s Caleb I’m telling.
My brother shakes his head and furrows his brow.
“You did, though. You told the police you did it. You went to juvie. It’s in your record.” All facts. Caleb is right about that.
“Yep,” I confirm that part for him.
“So you, what . . . you lied?” His expression is tight; his face pinched with disbelief.
I shrug.
“I lied. For mom.”
My brother’s short laugh breaks with a cry, and his eyes begin to well with angry tears. He tilts his head and glances at Saylor.
“He wanted to protect her. She was angry because my mom’s a cheating bitch, and your dad’s a real disappointment.” Saylor’s blunt honesty pushes his tears onto his cheeks, so I snag one of the clean towels from her other hand and toss it to him.
“I don’t fucking need this,” he says. He blots his eyes anyhow.
“Why don’t you sit down and let me tell you everything. From the beginning.” It’s an offer I didn’t want to make, but plans aren’t ever set in stone. I must take in the wreckage left behind, and my brother needs the truth more than he needs me to shield him from it.
It takes him nearly a minute to respond, and his acceptance feels halfhearted for a long while as I start from the moment I found out about the affair and slowly walk him through everything that’s happened under his nose since then.
After an hour and one trip to the bathroom, where I’m pretty sure he threw up, my brother’s body is a lot like a spent balloon, one that is no longer full of air and a beautiful shape.
He’s deflated, and his body sags with grief.
“You quit basketball.” It’s strange that after all of that, after sitting with it and thinking to himself for several quiet minutes, that’s his first takeaway. It’s also rather perceptive.
“I did. It didn’t feel the same after juvie. The joy was gone.” I shrug.
My brother shakes his head, his heavy eyes lifting to mine.
“No, you love the game. I’ve played you as recently as two weeks ago, remember? You were good. Better than me.”
“I know,” I laugh out. My brother’s mouth quirks up. It’s nice to see.
“Arrogant butthole,” he chides.
Saylor snort-laughs, which sends the three of us into a short but needed bout of laughter.
When we finally calm down, Caleb gets to his feet and walks toward me.
The crusty towels, ruined with my blood, are now strewn all over the garage floor.
My shirt is done for, too, and I’m sure my face isn’t pretty.
I don’t flinch as he walks toward me because there’s not much damage left to do.
Plus, I feel his shift in my bones. He’s still angry.
But he’s no longer angry at me. At least, not the way he was.
He holds out his hand, and I take his palm and grip him hard, getting to my feet and pulling him to me for a real, honest to God hug. It feels strange, but it also feels right. Maybe the day will come when the strange completely disappears and Caleb and I can be brothers again.
“I think I’m going to see if I can head to campus early, or at least spend the rest of the summer exploring the East Coast or something. Just . . . I don’t think I can be here. And it’s not because of you—”
“I get it,” I say, meeting his eyes with an assured look. I put my hand on his shoulder and maintain our gaze, about a million unspoken thoughts passing behind my eyes as well as his. Neither of us says the hard stuff. I don’t tell him I love him, and he doesn’t say he’s sorry.
But I do.
And he is.
And we will get there.
Eventually.
We all will.