ISAAC
If someone had told me six months ago that Evander Whitmore would willingly arrive late to a meeting because he was finishing breakfast with a woman, I’d have assumed they were concussed.
Or lying to try and get a story from me.
Potentially both.
Now, well, I’m pretty sure this won’t be the last time.
I take one look at him walking into the office ten minutes after the meeting ended and immediately know exactly why he’s late.
The bastard is radiating happiness, dark chocolate and coffee softening into something disgustingly content. It’s equal parts nauseating and amazing, and I hate how badly I want that for him.
I’m happy for him. For her.
For them.
And no part of me is jealous.
Keep telling yourself that, Isaac, you don’t sound bitter enough.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile this much,” I say teasingly. “It’s unsettling. Not in a bad way—well, outside your crooked tooth, that is.”
Evander immediately covers his mouth and glares at me. “I do not have crooked teeth.”
“My mama raised me not to lie, bro,” I say, smirking at him.
He flips me off, moving over to his desk, and yetm the moment he sits down and checks his phone, his scent sweetens around the edges, and he’s grinning again.
It’s fucking amazing to see.
He’s spent the first part of his twenties treating happiness like a quarterly business objective, as if it was something he could schedule once everything else was fixed.
Now, he’s practically throwing work in the bin if it means getting to spend more time with Cassidy.
I narrow my eyes as he stirs sugar into his lukewarm coffee. The one I got before the meeting he was meant to join me for.
I take a sip from my water bottle and lean back in my chair, waiting for him to tell me all about his breakfast date with Cassie.
I’m happy for the two of them, and I hate how much I love hearing about the dates I’ll never get to take her on.
Especially because living out his stories as if they’re my own is the closest I’ll get to dating Cassie for… a while.
“How did the meeting with Brett go?” Evander asks, raising a brow once his coffee is to his liking.
This routine of ours is familiar enough to be annoying when I’m in a mood like this.
These days, we’re a lot less quarterly projections and a lot more one specific omega.
Funny how life works.
“You’ve changed,” I tell him with a proud smile.
He scoffs, scrunching his face up like I’ve personally offended him. His scent sours in disgust, and my own reacts in amusement.
He’s such an asshole.
“I haven’t.”
“You absolutely have.”
“I haven’t,” he snaps, shoving his chair back from his desk so he can undo his jacket.
Oh, the overheating anger of an embarrassed alpha.
I wish he’d remember that we’ve seen each other at our best and our worst. There’s nothing he could do that I’d judge him for.
He’s my brother in all but blood. I’d do anything for his happiness, even when it hurts to stand this close to it.
“Ev, why are you taking this like it’s an insult?” I ask carefully. “It’s a good thing.”
His mouth twitches, but he averts his gaze. “I am still me.”
I’ve spent most of my life watching Evander carry the weight of entire worlds on his shoulders.
The business.
His family.
His responsibilities.
Himself.
Everything in his life has been managed. Controlled. Forced into place before it could make a mess.
Every decision has been on his shoulders, every problem something he has to fix.
It’s never been true, but that hasn’t stopped him from thinking that way.
Then Cassidy showed up in our lives. My sweet shortcake, ruining absolutely everyone by being impossible not to love.
Even if she thinks otherwise.
Despite their tumultuous start, they’re on solid footing now. Perfect footing, even.
The gala was a turning point, and ever since they had dinner a couple of weeks ago, he’s made sure they’ve had time together each day.
She’s making his world lighter, softening the bitter edges of him, and somehow, he’s letting her.
The thought gets under my ribs and stays there.
Because he deserves this.
He really fucking does.
“You know,” I say, lifting my bottle, “six months ago, you’d have had a spreadsheet for all this courting business.”
Evander laughs, shaking his head. “I have no doubt.”
“How’s the relationship tracking document coming along?” I ask teasingly.
He stares at me in confusion. “There’s no relationship tracking document.”
I gasp dramatically, which makes him laugh again.
“Seriously, bro, there’s none of that. I… I fucked up, we both know that. Hell, we all know that. And now, I’m determined to do everything on her terms.”
“That’s the best way,” I say with a smile because it is.
Cassie deserves to be held gently, even by men who first need to learn how.
Evander’s expression shifts into something suspiciously pleased. I immediately dislike it.
“What’s that look?” I demand.
His mouth twitches around the edge of his coffee cup.
Bastard.
“You’re unbearable,” I mutter, turning back to my computer to avoid that knowing look in his stupid face.
He doesn’t care. “That’s why we’re friends.”
“Despite that fact, actually,” I lie as warmth settles in my chest again.
We’ve spent most of our lives cleaning up each other’s disasters. Looking out for each other, showing up even when the other didn’t ask—even when the other didn’t want it but needed it anyway.
Evander’s my soulmate—not literally, obviously, but my… friend soulmate. Whatever the fuck you call that.
I bet Cassie would know.
He’s the person life gave me before it gave me her.
“When are you going to tell her?” he asks, and my heart comes to a complete stop, caramel curdling in the back of my throat.
My hand tightens around my coffee cup, and my lungs forget how to do their one fucking job.
Fuck me dead.
Is he really looking for a fight this morning? Things are all bright and perky in his world, so now he wants to come and poke at mine?
I scoff, looking up at him blankly. “When am I going to tell who what?”
“Don’t do that,” he says angrily. “Don’t insult either of our intelligence by pretending you’ve got no idea what I’m going on about.”
I sit back in my chair. “Maybe I don’t know who you’re on about.”
“I said no idea, not who,” he says pointedly. “When are you going to tell Cassie the truth?”
“Cassie doesn’t need this right now from me,” I say calmly. “She’s finally starting to find her footing here.”
“Isaac.”
And there it is. Fucking hell.
Not Zac. Not dickhead.
Not any of the insults we’ve traded since we were old enough to weaponise vocabulary.
Isaac.
I’ve never hated my name more than I do in this moment.
I take another sip of water, like that’s going to do a damn thing for my dry mouth.
“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Evander says.
“Cassidy is finally feeling comfortable with her place here.”
If I keep this practical, if I keep this reasonable, if I keep this about her instead of me, then maybe I can survive this conversation without cracking open at the table.
“She’s got enough going on with you, and whatever is still going on between her and Harlan and the campaign and the—”
“You’re just going to list every single thing in her life and use it as an excuse,” Evander says, cutting me off without an ounce of care. “She deserves to know, Zac. I know why you kept it a secret initially, but the longer you wait…”
I look out the window. I don’t need him telling me shit I already know.
“She deserves a lot of things,” I say.
“Yes. Including the truth from you.”
“That’s easy for you to say.”
His brows pull together, and his laugh is as dark and bitter as the coffee burning through his scent now. “Are you for fucking real? Do you think any of this has been easy for me?”
“Well, you never bothered trying to hide it.”
“Hiding people like her costs you pieces of yourself,” Evander says quietly. “And you don’t get them back just because you finally stop pretending she means nothing.”
I know he’s not just referring to me here but to all three of us cowards still hiding from our mate.
“You made a mess of it. Harlan is making a mess of it in whatever emotionally constipated way he’s chosen this week. The last thing she needs is me walking in and adding another complication because my scent decided to attach itself to her life without asking either of us for permission.”
Evander goes very still, and I realise my mistake half a second too late.
His gaze sharpens with anger, and he growls low in the back of his throat.
I don’t react—one of the perks of being a beta is that alpha growls don’t hit my spine the way they’re designed to.
“That’s not why you haven’t told her,” he says bitterly.
“Congratulations. You’ve developed telepathy.”
“Isaac,” he pleads.
“Stop saying my name like that,” I hiss, glowering at my best friend across the desk. I’m fucking furious now.
Not that I can blame him for it.
“Then stop lying to me,” he hisses back. “You’re a fucking coward. You’re lying to yourself about doing this for her protection when it’s not that at all. You’re scared, Zac. You’re scared she’s going to push you away, too.”
He leans forward, forearms braced on the table, coffee forgotten.
“But what you’re missing is that Cassie already trusts you. You make her feel safe when she’s overwhelmed. She already cares about you. Likes you. She’s starting to see you in the way you want her to, and she deserves to know why.”
His face is full of pleading. “You deserve to have that.”
“She deserves better.”
The words are out before I can stop them.
Fuck.
I’m a mess.
Evander freezes, and I know I’ve managed to shock the words from him.
For once.
Because that’s the moment Evander finally sees it.
“No,” he says quietly.
I frown. “No?”
“No. You don’t get to decide that for her.”
Irritation flares immediately. “Decide what?”
“Whether you’re good enough for her.”
I let out a humourless laugh. “Someone has to.”
“No, Isaac.” His voice sharpens. “That’s exactly my point.”
He leans forward, pinning me with the same look he uses on stubborn clients, difficult investors, and people about to make catastrophic mistakes.