35. Alex
ALEX
We pull up outside the brownstone just in time to see Gabe carry a box from a van to the front door, then disappear into the house. His team is stationed along the sidewalk, and from their grim expressions, they’re not happy with what he’s doing.
Cocking my head to get a better view, I watch another man and a woman struggle to get a large potted plant, almost a tree, onto a dolly. It wobbles as they push it up the cobbled walkway.
Curiosity eats at me, and I hate the disconnected feeling. It’s like Gabe and I aren’t in sync anymore. Almost two decades into our friendship, and a few days without speaking might as well be a thousand.
He’s always been there. Always needed me. And it’s not like that was a master plan on my part. I didn’t see this lost, teenage brainiac and think, ah-ha, there’s my next project. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like being needed.
I was too hard on him the other day. That business is his baby, and someone betrayed him and threatened everything he’d worked for.
Of course, that was wildly traumatic. In some ways, even more so than having my sister snatched away.
I loved my little sister. Adored her, most days.
But I didn’t create her. I had a familial bond, a brother’s love.
The reminder that we all have our own baggage is sobering.
Damn, I miss him.
That irreverent smile. The cocky geek who questions everything.
I reach for the door handle.
After nodding to my men, I’m halfway up the walk path when I pause. This is the spot where Roman took a bullet trying to protect Katherine. Someone’s cleaned off his blood.
People in this part of the world like to think violence won’t find them in their fancy homes and posh cars.
And ordinarily, they’d be right.
But Tadhg stands just outside the front door, a reminder that sometimes the enemy is as close as your family tree.
Shaking off the worry, because my team’s got my back, I jog up the front steps. With a nod to Gabe’s bodyguard, I push the door the rest of the way open. Random noises and voices meet my ears, and I follow the sounds to the back of the townhome.
Adrien Chen glances up from a box, a potted plant in hand.
“Alex. Hey.” Gabe’s assistant, ever efficient, seems both surprised and pleased to see me. We’ve always gotten on well, and he’s excellent at his job. I like to think he’s got Gabe’s back during work hours, and I’ve got it the rest of the time.
“What’s going on?” I gesture with my chin at the pot in his hand.
He jerks a thumb in the general direction where the man and woman are positioning the tree in front of the window. “We’re rescuing Miss Montgomery’s collection.”
That’s when I notice the space and not just the people in it. Plants dot every available surface.
“All right, Simon, that’s the last box.” Gabe trots down the stairs, putting on the brakes when he sees me.
Something twists in my chest. Relief. Anxiety. A bitter combination of the two?
Now that I’m here, I have no idea what to say. And he looks like he’s having the same problem.
“Excellent,” the man, Simon, says as he straightens. Wheeling the dolly toward us, he pauses just long enough to say, “And I’ll take the triage patients back to my shop.”
Then he’s off.
“Bill me!” Gabe calls.
“Oh, I will.” He pauses, turning back toward us. “You know, Katherine usually pays me with gossip.”
“How about I pay you in dollars? And lots of them.”
Simon’s fingers rata-tap-tap along the dolly’s handle, and then he shrugs. “That’ll work. Come on, Bonnie.”
They make themselves scarce; the dolly clanking down the front steps.
“I’ll head back to the office if we’re done here,” Adrian says.
“Thanks for all your help,” Gabe says.
We follow him to the door, the two of them discussing business along the way. Gabe locks the door behind him, and then there’s silence. Stillness.
Hand still on the lock, he asks, “Can we talk?”
That’s the most nerve-wracking question ever, but I nod. I fucking hate how silent my life’s been these last few days. How did I go from Gabe chattering away every morning and every night to utter, painful, dreadful silence?
“Of course,” I add, because he’s still not looking at me.
I take a step toward the stairs to the lower level, seeking solace from the lush garden.
On the entry table is the small potted succulent that King carries around like it’s his pet.
There’s that weird twisting sensation in my chest again. I rub the spot as I descend the stairs.
Gabe’s taking care of Katherine and King by taking care of their things.
I should have done that.
I would have done that.
But this isn’t a competition. It’s nice to have someone else picking up the slack. And if something happened to me, Katherine would have someone to lean on in Gabe and King. Just like Gabe would have someone in his corner.
He follows, and when I pause in front of the windows, hands on my hips, he stares out into the verdant backyard.
“I’m sorry about the other day,” I start, needing the silence to end.
“Me too.”
From the corner of my eye, I see him turn my way. An odd, full-body awareness courses through me, making me cognizant of every nerve ending, every cell, in a way I wasn’t before. Like I’m suddenly teeming with energy. Finger twitching, restless energy.
“I never should have compared my company to Courtney’s murder.”
My fingers flex into my hips, and I release the sigh that’s been building. Turning toward him, I meet his bright blue gaze. He always smells good. Fresh, clean, expensive but understated. But today, the combination of scents that are so distinctly Gabe hit me hard.
Not that it’s overwhelming. More like I’ve missed it.
I missed our six a.m. hoops. The random factoids he’s always peppering me with.
“I’m sorry,” he adds, lips curved down. So serious.
My skin burns hot, and my heart thunders.
He looks tired, like he’s back to not sleeping.
But the dark circles beneath his eyes are only the tip of the iceberg.
This Gabe is too much like the sullen version of himself he was after Henry Chanler swept through his life with all the finesse of a wrecking ball.
I hated it then, and I hate it now. He’s meant to live among the stars with that big brain and all those ideas. The chaos he uses for good.
“I’m sorry,” I say, feeling like I’m correcting him. “Your past is yours, and you’re allowed to get over it or not in your own time. I shouldn’t have made that comparison. Your company… it’s your baby. Your creation. I know what that feels like now.”
And just like I fight like hell to protect people, I’d fight like crazy to protect my company.
“Yeah, but companies can be rebuilt.”
“And friendships?” There’s a desperate pounding ofmy heart. “Can those be rebuilt?”
His chin jerks back, sort of slowly, as surprise widens his eyes.
“Does our friendship need to be rebuilt?”
“You tell me.”
He stares at me. Hard. Gaze roaming my face like he’s trying to figure out what to make of me. And that’s just it. I don’t know. I don’t fully understand what’s happening here. We’ve always been steady. Just a constant presence in each other’s lives.
Then, raking a hand through his hair, he turns away. Stalks away. I follow, tugged by an invisible force.
“I don’t get it,” he says, frustration lacing each word.
“Me either.”
He turns back, almost bumping into me.
“What do you want, Alex?”
“I don’t want you to be mad at me, for starters.” Deep in the back of my mind, I worry he’ll shut me out. That he’ll hold something against me with the same ferocity he held against the Chanlers.
“I don’t think I ever was. I don’t think I ever have been,” he amends, resting his hands on his hips. Looking me in the eye again, he asks, “What else?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean, you don’t know?” A furrow forms between his brows, and I have the oddest urge to reach up and smooth it away.
Instead, I lift my hands helplessly. “Just that I don’t know. Things feel… off, and I don’t like it. I don’t like that we fought. I hate that you’ve been sleeping who the hell knows where this week.”
“Don’t give me that. Tadhg updates you on my whereabouts by the hour.”
“I don’t like the silence. And I never thought I’d say this, but I haven’t loved being alone.”
“She’s coming back, you know. Their date has to end sometime.”
Now it’s my turn to walk away, pondering. “Does it? Maybe they’ll decide to run away and live on his sailboat.”
Not that I actually think that’d happen. But the mind likes to play games in the dark of night. Mine adores the master level version of Worst Case Scenario.
Besides, none of my current turmoil has to do with Katherine’s absence. It’s Gabe I’ve been missing. Katie Bird and I have been in contact plenty since she left. It’s a good thing I’m not charged by the text.
“So we’d move in with them.”
Trust Gabe to make it sound that easy. Why does that bother me?
“We’ll just uproot our lives and go live on a sailboat a half world away?”
“I’d do it. For her. For them. Wouldn’t you?”
I turn and look at him. Really look.
Everything from his hair to the purse of his lips is the same man I’ve known half my life, but something is different. A softening, maybe? I can’t put my finger on it.
“You need some sleep,” I say, because I’m not sure what else to say. It feels like we’re just circling each other. Like boxers in the ring. Round and round. Talking in half sentences, avoiding the truth.
Gabe rolls his eyes and turns toward the wall of glass. “I’ll sleep when they get home.”
“So you’ve patched things up with Katherine?” She hadn’t mentioned it during our numerous phone calls and texts.
“Not yet. But soon.” His spine straightens a bit, and his chest expands with a deep breath. I can almost see the wheels in his brain turning. Then, after a long pause, he continues, “I’m seeing Doctor Morales.”
I search my memory for the name and come up blank. “Should I know who that is?”
Let’s be honest, I’m going to have a five-page report about this person on my desk by nightfall. It’s instinct to reach for my phone and start typing out the request to my team as we speak.
“She’s a therapist.”
Wow. That’s big. I saw someone after Courtney’s death at the request of my parents. To be honest, I’m too stubborn to ever seek out that help on my own. Or at least, I was when I was younger.
“Since when?”
He knows me well enough to understand I’m asking how long he’s been seeing this person, rather than how long she’s been a therapist.
“Monday.”
“Is it helping?”
He turns his back to the window. “I think so. It’s early yet. Did you know that the phrase ‘have your head examined’ came about in the nineteenth century, and they literally studied the shape of your skull?”
I shake my head. “I did not.”
Is he stalling? I can’t tell.
His gaze flicks past me, and then he’s on the move. “Want a beer? Destiny stocked the bar down here.” He opens the small, glass-fronted refrigerator and reaches inside.
If he wants a little liquid courage, so be it. I could use a little myself. “Sure.”
Then I settle on the sectional and watch as he moves, already more at ease. He and Kingston have trouble being still. They always need something to do with their hands.
After popping the tops and throwing away the caps, he hands me a bottle and perches on the edge of the massive stone coffee table. I miss the giant ottomans from the set we have at home and how they turn the space into a large, cozy bed.
He looks around, expression thoughtful. “I’m thinking about buying this place.”
“Really?” I accept the change of topic even though I feel like we’re hardly settled in our apartment. “Trying to get away from me?”
He grins and shakes his head. “No. I just think King would appreciate not having to use an elevator all the time.”
My jaw goes slack, and I stare at him for a long beat. It feels like my brain screeches to a halt.
“What’s wrong?” he asks. “I know it’s not as convenient for work, but?—”
“That’s very… thoughtful.” It’s damn sweet, if I’m honest. “And who knows how long it’ll take to get back into our building.”
I debate mentioning the detective’s visit but decide that news can wait.
“That’s what I was thinking. I heard that old guy on the fifth floor is suing, as if that’s going to speed things along.”
“So you’re thinking of buying this place and seeing a therapist. Busy week.” Why does it feel like he’s leaving me behind?
I stretch an arm out along the back of the couch, trying to look unperturbed in the hope that I’ll feel less… agitated. But I don’t know if that’s going to happen.
I guess because I grew up in a McMansion, housing has always felt like an afterthought. But to Gabe, each apartment had to be nicer than the last. Better view. Bigger space. More refined. A hip location.
The beach house was to be his solace away from the city. A pet project where he could be involved and enjoy the fruits of his labor.
I’ve literally just been along for the ride for years now, so why does this bother me? No, bother’s not the right word, but I don’t know what word is.
He huffs a laugh and then takes a long swig from his bottle. “Yeah. A busy few weeks. Years, really.”
“You’re not wrong.”
After a long moment of staring at the label, he scratches at it with his thumbnail. “Is this how you saw things going?”
The question holds a wealth of meanings and options. “Things?”
“Life? Business? I sort of thought you’d have settled down by now.”
That’s news to me. “I like my life. Our life.”
He sneaks a glance at me and then back at the bottle in his hands.
“What about you?” I ask because I can’t help but feel the question has more to do with him and his thoughts on his future. “Are you where you thought you’d be?”
This therapy thing must really be working because I’m not sure the last time I’ve seen him reflect this much.
“No.”
Something about the single word and the way he doesn’t look at me or elaborate puts my senses on alert.