Chapter 16
Grafton
Something hot and urgent crawls through my chest as I get off the phone with Lynley, urging me to turn the car around.
I want to protect her, shield her from the fallout caused by every one of her shitty husband’s choices, but I respect her enough to know my interference isn’t what she wants or needs.
Doesn’t mean I have to like it, though.
The leather of the steering wheel creaks as my grip tightens around it, a feeling of helplessness coursing through me—an emotion I’ve never handled well, especially knowing there’s absolutely nothing I can do to fix or manage the situation.
I flick a dark glance at my silent phone, aware that not enough time has passed for her to be calling me back, but unable to stop the constant surge of worry. She is walking into an unknown situation with a man who lost his entire life earlier today.
Christopher might be unpredictable, but Lynley is strong, and she deserves this chance to show her weak-ass husband that.
Ex-husband.
The rest of the drive passes quickly, but the disquiet hasn’t eased by the time I nose my car into my designated space in the underground parking lot of the luxury condominium.
I step into the elevator, pressing the button for the penthouse.
When the doors slide open on my floor, I’m greeted with the sight of my brother leaning against the wall, his dark glare already pinned on me.
His suit is rumpled, several days of stubble covering his jaw, and as I get closer, it’s easy to see the redness coating the whites of his eyes.
“Thatcher,” I greet, palming my keys and unlocking the door. He follows me inside, watching as I loosen my tie, undoing the first three buttons of my shirt, sighing in relief when it no longer feels like the fabric is choking me.
“Where the hell have you been?” He gripes, hands on his hips. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for you?”
I make a show of checking my phone. “Huh. No missed calls or messages.”
The corners of his mouth tighten with irritation. “It’s Wednesday night, and I know you weren’t at your office. I checked. So where the hell have you been?”
I stare back at him. “It’s funny that you think I owe you answers, Thatch. Maybe next time, check with me before showing up at my place.”
“Whatever.” His expression turns petulant—an expression that doesn’t suit any kind of man, especially one in his late thirties. “I need to talk—”
My phone interrupts him, and I look down, My Lynne flashing across the screen. “Sorry, man. Gotta take this.”
His eyes bulge, his mouth already opening to protest, but I’m gone, disappearing into my bedroom and shutting the door behind me.
“Lynne?” I bark as soon as I get it to my ear.
She lets out a breathy sound of amusement that curls through my body like smoke, and some of the tension seeps out of my shoulders. “Hi.”
“Are you okay?” There’s a rough demand in my voice, and I try to rein it in. “Where are you? Do you need me to come back?”
“No,” she rushes to say. “I’m sorry it took me so long to call. I’m fine.”
I hesitate, but I want honesty with us always. “I was pretty worried. I wish you hadn’t done it on your own.”
“I’m okay,” she promises, her tone softening. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“As long as you’re alright.”
She lets out a ragged sigh. “I am, even though I walked into a mess. It was a lot to process.” She pauses a beat.
“I don’t think I really want to talk about it tonight.
I wanted to thank you for meeting me, and for helping me.
I’m not sure I would’ve been able to get through this without you. Not this quickly, anyway.”
Satisfaction fills me, enjoying her appreciation, even if I don’t need it. “I was glad to help. And I’m going to keep helping.”
“This isn’t your mess,” she insists. “Christopher isn’t going to let go easily, and I don’t want you to get caught up in it. If he realizes he can file a suit against you… Maybe it’s best that we keep our distance.”
“No,” I say shortly, shrugging out of my suit jacket and dropping it onto the end of the bed.
“Grafton—”
I clear my throat, cutting her off. “Thought we already covered this, darling. We’re past the point of distance.”
Her breath hitches in a way that has my mouth twitching.
“It’s not as simple as you’re making it out to be,” she protests, but it sounds like it’s something she thinks she should be saying, rather than anything she actually feels.
“I come with so much baggage, and I need to think about Mase and Ginny.”
I make a small noise of agreement. “I’d like to meet them soon.”
“It’s like that, is it?” she asks, clearly amused at my deflection.
“Yeah, Lynne. It’s like that.”
For a long moment, she doesn’t say a word, only the sound of her even breathing filtering down the line. I wait her out, staring blindly ahead, imagining her standing in front of me.
Finally, she whispers, “You terrify me. I never expected to meet someone like you.”
“And you never will again. The search is over, Lynne. I’m gonna show you the world you were always supposed to have.” She doesn’t reply, and I ease off, changing the subject. “We aren’t talking about it, but did you record what went down tonight?”
She hums. “Yes. All of it.”
“Good girl.” There’s a little gasp, muffled like she slapped a palm over her mouth, and a wicked grin tugs at my mouth.
“I want you to hang up and send a copy to your lawyer, okay? We don’t want to take any risks of losing it.
” A pause. “I’m assuming that what you walked in on will only help push the divorce forward. ”
“Oh, yeah.” The words are dry and filled with meaning.
My shoulders lift on my next inhale. I am reluctant to end the call, but I know I can’t avoid my brother much longer. Our relationship is defined by him showing up when he wants something or with his hand out, and he won’t leave until I deal with whatever’s got him into a snit.
“I have to go.”
“Me too,” she murmurs. “My mother is probably wondering where I am.”
That makes me frown. “Where are you?”
“Sitting in my car, outside her house,” she admits. “I needed a second to decompress after everything that happened.”
Curiosity beats at me, but I don’t press. If there’s anything Lynley needs, it’s someone who listens to her and respects what she says. She doesn’t want to talk about it tonight, so we won’t talk about it.
“Well, if you change your mind about talking or you just wanna hear my voice, call me back,” I fill my voice with suggestion, and she chuckles, the sound wrapping around me. “No matter what I’m doing, I’ll pick up.”
“You’re confident, huh?”
“I know what I want.”
There’s a long pause, and then a quiet, “I’m learning what I want too.” A click immediately follows, and then she’s gone, leaving me staring at my phone and hating this distance. It’s a lesson in patience, though, and one I need.
It’s a delicate balance, ensuring she knows where I stand while she’s still legally married, but I won’t ever let her doubt my intentions.
I get changed into some sweats and a lightweight shirt, and then head out to face Thatcher, finding him drinking my best scotch in the kitchen.
“About time,” he mutters, throwing the last of his drink back and pouring himself another.
I grab a tumbler for myself and snatch the bottle away from him, heading to the other side of the kitchen.
The guy’s a mess and doesn’t need any more, and I’m feeling petty enough that I don’t want to share the good stuff—especially when he probably isn’t even tasting it.
“You come over just to drink my booze?” I ask, winging up a brow. He scoffs, his cheeks ruddy as he eyes me with irritation.
“Nice of you to finally acknowledge me,” he snaps, slapping a palm against the counter.
“Interesting opener for someone who wants something,” I murmur, taking a slow slip, enjoying the warmth of the scotch as it slides easily down my throat.
Thatcher’s eyes flare. “Who said I want something?”
My sigh is more drawn-out now, unwilling to do this dance with him. “You always want something, Thatch.”
His lips press together, but he seems to shove his agitation aside, drawing his shoulders back as he fixes his expression into something mild, unthreatening. I stare back at him, not fooled by the mask, but he doesn’t let my lack of expression stop him.
“We need to talk about Angelica.”