Chapter 5

FIVE

Freshly showered, with my pain pills kicking in, I shut off the engine and slide out of the driver's seat. It's been a long time since I've driven my own car, and when I first decided to drive this morning, I immediately regretted my decision, but it was too late to turn around. I drove into the city with a pounding headache and the need to vomit.

I haven't been this hungover since I was in my early twenties. With a headache from hell, and my eyeballs ready to pop right out of the sockets, I remember why I stopped drinking years ago. Before my life turned to absolute shit. I kept my drinking under control for quite some time after I was released, but as the days of being back in not only the real world, but my world—the Harding world—all I could think about was the sweet relief I would feel once I took a drink of whiskey.

I took last night a little too far, though. Further than I have in years. The high and numbness I get from drinking simply isn't worth the aftereffects.

I downplayed my night to Adeline. It was embarrassing enough to have her find me passed out on my front porch. Especially after not having seen or talked to her for ten years. I didn't give much thought to seeing her again… until I saw her.

Although she was wearing a long, thick sweater and loose joggers, I could tell she wasn't the eleven-year-old girl I remembered. She's now a full-grown woman.

After I toss the keys to the valet out front and stride into the lobby, I ride the elevator up to my brother's office, with my hand pressed against the wall, and my head hanging low. It's an agonizingly slow ride, and when the lift stops and pings, I push off the wall and step out, bypassing all the secretaries at the front desk along the way. I don't plan on staying here long, considering I have a client meeting in Barcelona tomorrow morning. I need to head over to the airport hangar to catch my flight if I'm going to make it with enough time to sleep.

I weave my way back to my brother Lennon's office. His longtime secretary Olivia sits behind her large, oak desk, tapping away on her computer.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Harding."

"Is it afternoon?" I ask her, flicking my wrist to eye my watch.

"Well…" Olivia giggles and shrugs. "It's five minutes after noon, so I consider it afternoon."

"Oh, you scared me." I place my hand on my chest, worried I've wasted my day.

"Sorry." She winces.

"Do you mind telling Lennon I'm here? He's expecting me."

"Of course." Olivia presses her finger to the intercom, and Lennon is quick to respond, telling me to head back to his office.

I push through the large, mahogany door, then allow it to shut behind me.

"Uncle Micah!" My eight-year-old niece Lucy comes running over to me, her long, brown, curling pigtails bouncing with every step. She quickly wraps herself around my waist.

"Shouldn't you be in school?" I tease.

"Daddy picked me up early because I have to get a filling today." She unravels one arm from around my waist long enough to pull back her cheek, showing me the left side of her mouth. "Right here."

I laugh.

She squeezes me again and rests her chin on my stomach before looking up with the largest grin. "I asked Daddy if I could have a telescope, and he said I'd have to wait for my birthday, but my birthday isn't until after science camp this summer, so there's no way I can get enough research done in time. I'll be way behind."

I can't help but smile at her enthusiasm seeing me and the way she talks a mile a minute without taking in a single breath. The growing dimples in her cheeks and the light in her eyes temporarily fill the gaping hole I have in my soul.

"Woah." I dip my eyebrows and dart my narrowed eyes to my brother sitting behind his desk. "You won't get her a telescope? It's educational."

"That's what I said," Lucy whines. Her arms are still wrapped around me, her hands grasping onto my gray blazer.

"Lucy!" Lennon scolds, narrowing his eyes. "You can't run to your uncle every time you feel like you aren't getting what you want. It doesn't work that way. Your mother and I have already had this conversation with you. Science camp doesn't work with our schedule. We'll be gone most of the summer."

"I know." She pouts, pulling away from me. "Sorry, Daddy. I was just hoping Uncle Micah would be able to help."

"Hey, Luce," I say, hooking my fingers under her chin. "You know I'm always here to help with whatever you need." I give her a wink and nod toward Lennon. It causes my head to pound again, but I ignore it. "I'll see what I can do. I promise. Okay?"

She claps her hands together and points them to her chin. She gives me another large toothy grin, even though half her teeth are missing. "Thank you, thank you, thank you." She wraps her arms around me one more time. "You know you're my favorite uncle, right?"

I laugh. "Duh! Of course, I am." I lean down and press my finger to my lips. "But it's our little secret, right?"

My other brother Jude is just as amazing of an uncle to Lucy, and I've heard her say the same thing to him multiple times when she thinks I haven't been able to hear, but I love these moments with her.

"Yep." She smacks her lips and nods enthusiastically.

"Hey, Lucy, girl." Lennon moves around his desk and stands beside his daughter. "Do you mind sitting with Olivia for a few minutes while I talk to your favorite uncle? Your mom shouldn't be much longer. She's on her way to pick you up to take you to your dentist appointment."

"Sure." She walks over to the chair in the far corner and grabs her pink bag. "Love you, Daddy. Love you, Uncle Micah."

We both tell her we love her, too, and wait for the door to shut.

When I'm alone with Lennon, I blow out a heavy breath and sink into the chair across from his desk. I hang my head back and run an exhausted hand down my face. Feeling Lennon move around the room, I sit up and watch him return to his chair behind his desk, across from me.

"You shouldn't make her promises you can't keep," he mutters, sifting through the paperwork on his desk.

"I didn't." I cross my leg and rest my ankle on my knee.

"Laurel and I already talked with her about this. We're planning on spending the entire summer in Paris. It's not because we don't want to get her one, it's just that we don't want to give her hope when going to science camp isn't a probability." There's an edge to Lennon's voice, and I see the annoyance in his glare.

Dressed in his usual all black suit, his face is set into a hardened expression—the same expression he gives the rest of the world. But not to his wife. Or his brothers.

Today is different. I see the frustration behind his fixed jaw and pulsing temple.

"It's not like Lucy is asking for a castle." I scoff. "It's a telescope, Lennon."

"That's not the point." He pinches the bridge of his nose. "You would understand if you had children of your own."

I curl my hands into fists. The cuts from punching the mirror last night crack, and a sharp, blistering pain sears across my knuckles. Pressing my mouth into a tight line, I breathe out heavily through my nose, causing my nostrils to flare.

"Is this why you called me down here?" I ask, cutting him a glare. "To talk to me like Dad would and scold me as if I were still a fucking teenager? I must not understand anything because I don't have children of my own, right?"

Lennon's eyes widen, and his chest stills. He takes a moment before sighing and closing his eyes. He reopens them, this time looking at me with pity. If there's anything us three Harding brothers have in common, it's all in our desire to be the furthest thing from our father. But every day I look in the mirror, the more I see him staring back at me.

It makes me fucking sick.

"I shouldn't have said that. I'm sorry."

I don't speak a word. I simply uncurl my fists while the pounding in my head continues.

"You look like shit," he adds.

Straight to the point. My oldest brother never misses.

"Thanks," I mutter, running my finger over one of the cuts.

"Do those cuts have to do with you punching a bathroom mirror at Harley's Club last night?"

"What?" I ask, wondering how in the hell he knows where I got these cuts from.

He tosses me a piece of paper from his desk. I catch it, quickly reading over the list printed in black ink.

"What the fuck is this?" I ask, confused. I toss the paper back on his desk.

"I got a call this morning from the insurance company who cover Harley's Club and its owner Jeremy Turpin," Lennon explains. "Jeremy claimed you and his girlfriend snuck off into one of the bathrooms in his bar. He says you stumbled out with those cuts on your hand, and when he went in to open the bar up this morning, the mirror was shattered, and there was vomit all over the floor."

"How would he know it was me? The mirror could have been broken at any time, and I'm sure dozens of customers go in there to throw up. The place is a shithole."

"He has you on camera, Micah."

"He has enough money for a security system, and so what?" I look out the window and shake my head before swinging my attention back to Lennon. "I can't believe the insurance is even bothering to cover that place, or that Jeremy is worried about it, considering he's losing the place. But I guess it's whatever. I'll pay the bill."

"That's not the fucking point." Anger flares his nostrils, and he's no longer trying to hide his annoyance.

I roll my eyes. We're back to this again.

He leans forward and jabs his finger at the invoice. "Whether you like it or not, Jeremy is still the owner of that bar and is free to make an insurance claim if he wants. We haven't closed on the property, and the bank sure as fuck hasn't seized it yet. Don't you think you were being a little selfish last night?"

"Selfish?" I raise my eyebrows.

"You put our company at risk! I sent you there as a courtesy to the owner. Instead, you're caught on camera practically undressing his girlfriend in the hallway before leading her into the bathroom to fuck her. Then you walk out after destroying property, with your hand all fucked up."

"I said I would pay for it, Lennon." I narrow my eyes, tired of my brother looking at me as if I'm something that always needs to be fixed or taken care of. Like I'm some liability. All I've ever done these past three years is fought to get back on track. But it's difficult to get back on track when you're the reason for the derailment. I did this to myself. I'm the only one to blame.

"I thought we were past this."

"Past what?" I ask, venom sitting on the tip of my tongue.

"I don't deny our father fucked all three of us in ways we can't comprehend. With Jude, he had a drinking problem, but he overcame his demons and put his past behind him. When you were caught with all those illegal prescription drugs, I thought I was doing right by you the first time ten years ago. The judge was willing to give you a slap on the wrist by giving you a small fine. But this last time…" He sighs, resting his elbows on his desk and massaging his temples. "I hired the best lawyers to talk down your sentence, and as much as I despise doing it, I tried to use our family name to lessen your penalty. I tried to negotiate your sentence down to rehab, but the judge wasn't having it. He said your offenses were too extreme, even for setting bail, and if he didn't send you to prison, it would have sent a message that money can buy your way out of facing the consequences."

"I know you did what you could." The idea that I have a felony attached to my name for the rest of my life turns my stomach sour.

"So, stop living in the past, and move on!" he yells.

"I'm not one of your children, Lennon," I bark back. I know I fucked up. Every day, I wake up knowing I messed up my life with one singular decision. It flipped at the turn of a dime.

I look at my brother, angry he doesn't understand that the trauma of prison doesn't simply fade with time.

"No, you aren't one of my children," he seethes, his eyes bulging. "But I am your big brother, and I've done nothing but try to protect you. Your sentence could have been a lot worse than two years, and I won't deny that the stunt you pulled last night worries me that you're traveling down the same path. I missed the signs the first time. I don't intend on doing it again. Because next time, it won't just be two years. It'll be more, and I'm afraid my hands will be tied."

I roll my eyes and squeeze my hands into impossibly tight fists. I want to drive one of them into the fucking wall when I hear shit like this.

"You don't need to worry about me," I force out between gritted teeth. "This isn't like that."

"How can I trust you?" He narrows his eyes. Despite my brother's hard exterior, I see the love and fear he has for me, but it's misplaced. I wish I could take it away from him. I wish I could tell him the truth, though the truth breeds contempt. It's better to remain in this truth than to live in the alternate one. For all of us.

"I think it's time you take a break." Lennon disrupts my thoughts. The nonchalance in his voice makes me think he's been planning on having this conversation with me for some time. The smooth, effortless way the words fall from his lips are as if he's recited them in his head for longer than I care to know.

"I don't need a break." I rest my hands in my lap and straighten my back in my seat. I'm losing my grip, once again.

"You do." I can see the fight in him to stick to his guns. "Ever since you were released, I've given you the benefit of the doubt. I figured it would be great for you to dive back into your work, start over with a clean slate. Same as before. I gave you another chance, and I saw change. I saw you'd finally grown up. You weren't the same, troubled, twenty-something you were back then, and handling our accounts overseas has always been your strong suit. But your work has been slipping, and the last thing I want is for you to get in trouble again, find yourself going back to prison, or worse, in a situation you or I can't talk our way out of. My power only reaches so far, Micah, and I refuse to wield it as our father did. Last night is proof you need a break. I don't blame you for struggling these past few years. I can't imagine what you went through once you were released, but I can't, in good conscience, allow this to keep happening."

I open my mouth to object but stop short. I don't have it in me to argue with my brother, and maybe that makes me weak, but it's easier than trying to convince him otherwise.

"Why don't you take this time to fix that house you bought out in Cambridge years ago? You've always said you never had the time to remodel it, and it was just sitting there when you were gone, untouched."

"I have someone working on it," I mumble, not wanting to dive too much into who, exactly. "Besides, I don't plan on keeping it. Not anymore."

I keep my words short and clipped. I'm trying to stand my ground, digging for reasons to throw back at Lennon as to why he should keep me at work, but I come up blank. Instead, I find myself talking about this house. The house that used to mean more to me than it does today. But I fucked up, and it cost me everything. My future. My life. Everything.

"It's a shame you aren't going to keep it." Lennon frowns. "But I understand. I think, anyway."

"Yeah." I nod, chewing on the inside of my cheek. I don't like thinking about the past. It stirs up dark feelings, and dark feelings lead me to recklessly trying to fuck women in dirty bathrooms, only to end up with vomit all over my shoes, and staring back at my father's reflection in the mirror.

"How long am I supposed to take this break?" I question him.

"However long it takes you to release whatever it is that's trying to pull you back." He drags his finger on the arm of his chair in circles before looking me in the eye. "You don't have to become that person again, brother. It isn't you. Whatever it is that's trying to pull you back there, let it go."

I give him a sarcastic laugh. Easier said than done.

Lennon is wrong. It's not that I feel like I'm being pulled back. The truth is I feel cheated. Cheated out of the life I deserved, and every day I'm reminded of the price I paid for it all to mean nothing. I'm not living the life I wanted for myself because of the choices I've made in the past. I'm not living the life I envisioned because every day, more and more, me and the rest of the world see James Harding.

I stare at my brother, completely at a loss for words. There's nothing I can say to change his mind or make me hate myself any less than I already do.

"Fine." I stand, buttoning my suit jacket and moving around the chair. I rest my hands on the back and grip the leather as I lean forward and look him directly in the eye. "Since you seem to know me so well and claim to know what's right for me, why don't you let me know when it's appropriate for me to come back?"

"Micah…" He holds his hands out. "Come on, man. Don't take it personal. This is for the best."

"Yep." I push off the chair. "That's what I'm here for. To always do what's best." I spin on my heel and head for the door.

"Micah! You're my brother, and I love you. I just –"

The door closes behind me, quieting my brother's booming voice, shutting him out.

I wish it were as easy to block out my past. Maybe then it would stop haunting me.