38. my brother, my judge
CHAPTER 38
MY brOTHER, MY JUDGE
LINCOLN
Reed’s office is awash in navy. Even the ceiling didn’t survive whatever decorating phase Darcy went through. It’s nice. Elegant. Strong. Handsome.
A good representation of my brother.
He fits here, sitting tall behind his desk, concern etched deep in the lines of his face, as though this very room is the source of his issues.
Or maybe it’s me.
Wind the clock back, and it’s like looking at a ten-year-old Reed, drowning in one of Deacon’s blazers, barking orders.
“Of course you’re here without any warning,” he says as I drop into the chair across from his desk. It’s deep and comfortable, which absolutely means it’s my sister’s handiwork. “If you’re here to see Darcy, she’s in the middle of something important.”
“I came to see you, actually.”
His surprise is evident in the lift of one straight eyebrow, but he says nothing. Instead, his shoulders relax and he pushes back from his desk to walk to a side table which— of course— has a teapot and several company-branded mugs.
Reed turns his head in question, and I nod. It strikes me that he doesn’t have an assistant, and he’s made no move to close the door to his office, despite the free-flowing chatter that makes its way in from the team working outside.
It’s deliberate, in the way I know Reed to be, that he’s available to them. That he’s a leader, but he’s also a part of the team.
He passes me a mug and returns to his desk, holding his own. We’ve never been this polite. If one of us brings up the weather, I’m leaving.
“What the hell is that?” I ask, grimacing at the speckled brown puck Reed is holding up to his mouth.
He lowers it, glowering. “It’s blueberry and chia. Not all food is dripping in preservatives. Some of it is actually good for you.”
The only thing that husk of concrete is good for is as a coaster. I reach over and bat it out of his hands, watching as the damn thing drops to the floor with a deep boom. Jesus.
“That was a perfectly good biscuit, you brute.”
I roll my eyes. “Looks more like cat litter to me.”
Reed scoffs, picking up his tea and crossing his legs. “Why are you here, Lincoln? Apart from messing up my carpet.”
It takes a second to remember that I’m not here to argue with him.
“What’s that?” he asks as I pull the slim packet out of my pocket.
“A peace offering,” I say, waving it at him.
“Give me that,” Reed hisses as he snatches the packet out of my hands. He’s quick to open it, stuffing a biscuit in his mouth before I can blink.
“Oh god, that’s good,” he groans, taking two more before throwing the pack back at me. I catch it midair.
I didn’t notice earlier, but there’s some gray coming through at his temples, showing easily through his darker hair and matching the slate waistcoat he’s sporting nicely.
I still remember the boy who let Darcy paint his nails while telling her how to maximize her customer base. Can still picture the lanky kid who confided his first crush to me, who helped me study, who couldn’t bluff his way through a card game if his life depended on it.
Christ, when did we all get so bloody old?
“Where the bloody hell did you get proper gingersnaps?” he asks.
“Care package from dad. He’s seeing someone and refuses to tell me anything. Thinks he can buy me off with sweets.”
“Which he can,” Reed replies through his chewing.
“Of course he fucking can, but I’m not going to tell him that, am I? I’m holding out for Quality Street.” I sink back into the leather as easily as our glide into gentle ribbing.
If only every aspect of our relationship were so simple.
“Too right.” Reed fights a smile, but the laugh lines around his mouth give him away, and when he gives into it, the damn thing takes over his face.
It’s disorienting enough to hurt.
I swallow it down. “Anyway, I thought you didn’t eat sugar anymore.”
“I do when it’s this fucking good,” he says, dipping his last bite into my tea, letting it soak but pulling it right before it crumbles. So much like Dad, it’s uncanny. If I close my eyes, I could be back in Dad’s flat, last night’s match on the telly.
Reed swearing can only mean the stress has reached a critical level. I’ve got the strangest feeling I just helped the man fall off some kind of wagon.
“How’s business?”
Reed is looking at me like I’ve told him I cheer for Liverpool. Is wanting to know how he is such a ridiculous idea?
Then he heaves a sigh as heavy as I’ve heard from him and sags back into his chair. “Frustrating, if I’m honest. Our biggest competitor is pushing for a merger that would result in layoffs for 80 percent of our staff and minimum wage for the remaining 20 percent.”
“I hope you told him to stick it.”
“And then some,” he says. Good. “Little pissant is trying to price us out of the market now with mass-produced plastic.” Reed loosens his tie, scoffs. “If I had any sense, I’d have passed on the job and gone off to become a swimsuit model like you did.”
I put down my tea to smile mockingly. “No chance. You’re too pale.”
He surprises me by throwing his head back in a laugh, and the noise outside the room stops in response. I wonder how many of them were expecting us to brawl instead.
“Fuck you. I don’t know how you lucked out of it; the last time Felicity and I went on holiday, I got burnt in a downpour.”
I laugh, imagining him soaked down to his knobby knees, red as a slapped arse.
“A lot of people are lucky you made this choice, then.” It’s a concession I wouldn’t have made a few months ago. But now that I’ve seen some of his work firsthand, the picture I had of him as lord and tyrant of Deacon’s soulless empire is shifting into something surprisingly meaningful. Maybe it’s time to reframe who I thought he was. “You’re good at this. Much better than he was.”
He nods his thanks, and we silently agree to let the moment pass. It isn’t until I’ve reached the end of my cuppa that he asks, “How was the theater?”
Jesus. I put the empty mug on his desk. “How did you even know about that?”
He raises his brows as if to ask if I’m serious, and yes, I am. It’s hard to believe now, but there was a time not that long ago where I actually had a private life.
“It’s impossible to have a secret in this family,” he says with a shrug, and boy, do I wish that was true.
“You’d be surprised.”
He sets his mug aside, and I would put money that his foot is jumping under the desk. It’s his go-to when he’s tense. “So, you and Ivy really are serious, then?”
His tone is even, but I haven’t forgotten how quickly he questioned her motives. It sets my shoulders back. “What about it?”
He holds his hands up, understanding he’s crossed a line. “Didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just asking. You look happy.”
It’s easy to be, with her. “I am.”
“That’s good. I’m glad,” he says, even going so far as to look genuine about it, and honestly? I want to believe him.
He was meant to be my wingman, my best man. A friend, at least. Not the stranger we’ve become to each other.
Grabbing a couple tissues from a box on his desk, Reed bends over to collect what’s left of the cardboard I saved him from ingesting.
“Do you remember summer in London?” I ask.
Reed sits up, tossing the remains into a bin by his feet. His hair is flopping forward and his tie is askew. “What, those two days in June each year? Yeah, I remember it.”
I snort a laugh. “A bit of sun hits, and it’s like anything is possible. No problem is too great, and you want to soak up as much as you can.”
He looks over, expectant. Pushes his hair back into place.
“She makes me feel like that,” I say, the truth of it undeniable. There are so few between me and him, obscured beneath our pride. But Ivy deserves nothing less.
Reed’s gaze jumps to a silver frame on his desk, where I bloody well hope Felicity’s photo is. “I know exactly what you mean.” It’s a small bridge, but one I’ll cling to.
I came here to talk to him, to call Kyle’s bluff and get ahead of this mess before it starts, but everything’s wrong. It’s Reed. It’s this office. I keep expecting him to strike me down with his “you’re a disappointment” head tilt. It’s like every trip to the principal’s office.
That he’s been, dare I say it, pleasant, is only reminding me of what I have to lose.
I say I don’t care about Reed’s opinion, but I do.
I’ve always cared. Otherwise I would have told him. I would have thrown it in his face as proof that I had disappointed him as deeply as he had me. It wasn’t until Kyle made Reed knowing a reality that I understood how, underneath it all, I still want my brother’s approval. Still want to make him proud.
Up until now, he’s thought me lazy. But what will he make of this? Will I be irredeemable to him after this? The final bridge to burn?
“Hey,” I say, leaning forward to rest my elbows on my knees. “Fancy a cheeky pint?”
He doesn’t reply at first, but he does look at the door. Could he be considering it? “The last time I said yes to that, I ended up serenading a lamppost at two in the morning.”
I chuckle. “Yeah, it was a pretty good night, that.”
The smile fades away. “What’s this about, then?”
The scrutiny sets me back in my chair. Always calculating, my brother. “Why does it have to be about anything?”
There’s the head tilt. Christ.
“Fine. What do you know about Kyle these days?”
The principal’s office feeling is back as Reed stares warily. “I didn’t realize you two were close.”
“We aren’t.” I’d rather cut off my own cock. “He’s a little shit. I want nothing to do with him, and you know it.”
“Do I? You seemed awfully cozy the other night. Two years of not seeing you for so much as a birthday, and last week, you plan a dinner and invite him? If you aren’t friends, what is it?”
There was a time I wouldn’t have hesitated to tell Reed everything. Having him on my side, us against the world? We were invincible. But this is bigger than him and me. It’s Mum and Darce and every bloody person working here.
I can’t blow up their livelihoods. Even in the off-chance Reed doesn’t blow his top, what’s stopping Kyle from leaking it publicly? The business might be smaller than it was back in Deacon’s day, but those colleges might pull the scholarships once it’s known the owner’s brother fakes orgasms for a living.
Well. Mostly fakes.
“He hasn’t pressured you into investing in that ridiculous venture, has he? If you’re in too deep, I’ll call my lawyer.”
Does he really think I’d give that sanctimonious wanker a single cent? “I wouldn’t trust him with a bog roll.”
“Then what?”
I run my hand over my jaw, looking past him. “He came to see me today.” There are more framed photos hanging over Reed’s shoulder. The one that has my attention is three decades old, taken at Dad’s old place. It was one of the few Christmases we spent in London before Deacon guilted Mum about keeping us away. All five of us are huddled around a tiny tree, in pajamas and robes, smiles wide with hot chocolate mustaches.
I’d forgotten about it until now. I never knew Reed had this photo. Probably would have if I ever came into the office.
I look away. “He’s still on about that job.”
“Why would he come to you about that?” Reed’s eyebrows raise with a sudden clarity. “Ah, I see. He talks to you. You come here bearing gifts. And I’m supposed to… what? Hire him as sales VP?”
I’m trying not to get pissed, but it’s always been an impossible feat whenever Reed starts a lecture. He takes my silence as confirmation.
“Let me guess, if I don’t agree now, he’ll try again at the house this weekend?” He shakes his head, disappointment seeping from every pore. “Is this why you said you don’t need money? He’s roped you into some sort of scheme, and this is the next step?”
“No.” I drop the word like a boulder, and Reed sits back and turns his head. Now he can’t even look at me. Fuck Kyle.
I hate what I’m about to ask. Hate that it’s going to confirm Reed’s worst suspicions of me. But this place means everything to him and Darcy, and I won’t be the reason it fails.
Staring down at my knees, I bid a silent farewell to any good blood between us. “If you know he won’t give up, why not just make him a nonoperational title and shut him up?”
Reed’s voice is as cold as the night I stopped talking to him. “Because he’s a pest, and once he knows he can get what he wants, he won’t stop. I can’t believe you’re even entertaining this. But then, you don’t have anything to lose, do you? It’s so much easier to sit there and ask me to take the risk. How about you leave the critical thinking to me and you worry about yourself?”
Of course he can’t imagine thinking is my strong suit. Only the great Reed Reeves is capable of that.
I push out of the chair, but even though I’m the only one standing, Reed’s looking at me like he’s standing on the high ground. “This is your fault, by the way. If you hadn’t cut them out of the estate?—”
“You don’t have the faintest clue what you’re talking about.”
Oh really? “But then you have practice at cutting people off.”
He rolls his jaw slowly, taking his time. It’s his trick. Give himself enough time to gather his thoughts, restock his arsenal. While I’m busy shooting from the hip, Reed’s collecting reinforcements. It’s another reason he was the only choice to take over from Deacon.
“One day you’ll appreciate the decisions I made for this family,” he says, and it’s clear this conversation has hit its inevitable dead end. “Perhaps then you’ll start taking your life seriously and see I’m trying to help you.”
No, he’s only determined to get me to act according to his rules. Reed’s tenants for right and wrong.
“Just because you wanted to become Deacon’s clone doesn’t mean I want to.” If he doesn’t want to hear what I have to say, then I’ll deal with Kyle myself. “Call me when you get your head out of your arse.”
It’s only when several people jump out of their seats that I regret slamming his door behind me.