Chapter 19

Wes

I violently hit the delete button three times on the note I was making. “I don’t care what Evie thinks.”

“Pham thinks it would be a good idea too,” J.T. adds without hesitation.

This time I look up from my laptop to meet his stare.

“Both are concerned with these media bait stories regarding your ‘ unsafe working conditions’ that have steadily been cycling through the tabs.” His hands casually slide into his small checked print indigo suit pants prior to him leaning against the back of my upstairs office couch. “They’re worried about the backlash upsetting the other shareholders.”

“They’ll be fine.”

“And they’re worried how it’ll effect the Morgan Brand merger.”

“It’ll be fine.”

“And they’re also worried you may have a leak.”

There’s no stopping me from gritting my teeth, growling, and glaring at the man across from me.

First an assault on my employee – that’s practically fucking family – and now, I have someone selling inside information to the press?

Is this really happening?

Why?

Why me?

Why now?

Why is it when everything finally seemed to be full steam ahead, perfect page ending just a couple swipes away, some drunk writer came in and wrecked the entire plot in one panel?

“ Enough, Weston ,” Clark unexpectedly chastises upon his plate carrying entry. “You are a man, not a monster.”

“Debatable according to Bryn,” my best friend murmurs at a lower volume.

It’s impossible to keep jealousy out of my voice. “You’ve talked to her?”

“Texted mostly.” His head bounces back and forth. “You know…when she can remember where she’s left her phone.”

Of course, she’s not ignoring him.

He’s always on her side.

They’re always on each other’s side.

Conspiring.

Leaving me on my own.

“And you?” Clark inquires during his approach. “Have you spoken to young Miss Winters since your…disagreement?”

Spoken to?

No.

Heard from?

Also, no.

Reached out to?

That’s…still a no.

But I shouldn’t have to.

She was the one who told me not to speak to her.

She was the one who walked out of the room rather than continued to have a civilized conversation with me.

Although, civilized may be a bit of a stretch.

Clark politely places the dish down on the edge of my desk and all knowingly states, “ I see. ”

“There is nothing to see,” I defensively bite back. “And you can take that away.” Pushing the object back towards him is done in extended defiance. “I’m not hungry.”

“According to the kitchen staff as well as Penny, you haven’t eaten since you last spoke to her.”

“ I’m not hungry. ”

He tips his chin to the dish. “ Eat. ”

“I said-”

“ Weston ,” Clark fatherly chomps, “this is not a conversation. It is in instruction, young sir.” The finger point to the plate is less than casual. “ Eat. ”

Shrinking into myself can’t be helped.

Nor can the gurgling of my empty stomach.

While there isn’t a day that passes by that I don’t miss my parents, I am thankful I still have two in many ways.

“ Fine. ” Reaching over, I grab one of the potato chips from the dish and lift it into the air to be seen before shoving it into my mouth. “ Done. ”

“You are your father’s son.”

The proclamation pierces my brow tightly together in wordless question.

“Your pride may win you arguments; however, it will lose you love.”

An unforeseen ache suddenly begins in the center of my chest.

Grows upward.

Swells around my neck.

Love is not something I envisioned myself having again, yet now that I have it or…something similar to it, I loathe the idea of letting it go.

But what am I supposed to do?

Cave to her every demand?

Become a “yes man”.

Neither of those are me.

Everyone claims she wouldn’t ask me to be someone I’m not, but isn’t that exactly what she’s asking me to do?

Unhappy grumbles become buried behind another chip.

And another.

“Might I suggest a conversation about communication on her way to work?” He poorly hides his grin over my continuous munching. “I do believe I overheard her calling for travel arrangements when I went to visit Lauren.”

“How is Lauren?” Grabbing half of the grilled cheese and bacon sandwich precedes further questioning. “Still stable?”

“Going a bit stir crazy ,” Clark lightly chortles in an obvious adoring nature, “but health wise, yes. Still stable.”

“Misses work?” J.T. inquires and snatches the other half of my meal.

“Misses personal space.” The clarification causes him to chuckle even more. “Bryn is…apparently… hovering. ” He fails to swallow his amusement. “Lauren is actually looking forward to her daughter going to work this evening.”

“My mom was the same way when she first got sick,” my best friend fondly recalls between bites. “Swore up and down children weren’t supposed to parent their parents.”

I offer him a heartfelt grin.

Joyce was a wonderful woman.

Not the socialite type, yet still someone my mother loved to have over for tea or cocktails.

She taught at the private academy, which is why he was granted free tuition, thus inevitably starting a brotherhood both of us needed.

Watching her decline with Huntington’s Disease was a horror show, and the fact that he had to start facing it alone at fourteen simply made it that much worse. My parents did what they could for her, of course, but her decline was rapid.

And her death abrupt.

The loss of her swallowing capabilities is what ultimately led to her choking to death on her vomit while we were getting drunk at junior prom.

Needless to say, we didn’t go the next year.

I was in and out of physical rehabilitation programs, and he was at my side.

“I won’t speak on behalf of Lauren,” Clark politely resumes conversing, “but I will say I do believe she would greatly benefit from you and her daughter ending your stalemate.”

“I can a thousand percent say we all would,” J.T. juvenilely declares.

“It’s not been that awful.”

“It so has,” he mirthfully argues on another mouthful. “Zaidee threatened to quit after our meeting last night.”

Disbelief drops my jaw. “You’re kidding.”

“No.” The remainder of the sandwich is stuffed into his mouth. “You sent her a sunflower bouquet and a spa gift certificate to apologize for being such an asshole.”

“That was kind of me.”

“And it was kind of me to save you from having to find, hire, as well as train someone new to tolerate your… less than professional mood swings.”

Another grumble is hidden behind a bite.

“I’m gonna get Lucky to make me a PB and J,” my best friend announces, grabbing a chip during his exit. “Alfred, convince him to make up with Catwoman, please. Gotham City is counting on you.”

Eyerolling over the retort is swiftly followed by a shake of the head.

She is not a jewel thief.

However, she does look stunning in leather.

I almost didn’t let her leave the house wearing that dress.

“Would you like me to make arrangements for you to escort Bryn to work?” His eyebrow lift is done to imply it is more of a statement than a suggestion. “I’m on way to investigate a greenhouse issue but can most certainly reach out to transportation first.”

“What issue?”

“Unexplained dying plants,” he deeply sighs. “A small section that was previously thriving is almost completely dead like they were infected with something, so I was asked to investigate it by gardening as a second opinion.”

Hm.

Sounds like someone is trying to cover their tracks.

Only question is…who?

“Keep me posted.”

Clark delivers a small nod. “As you wish.”

“And have transport bring around two vehicles.” A better idea begins to cultivate prompting me to add, “And alert security to the change.”

Without another word, he disappears to complete his tasks, leaving me to finish eating alone.

Collecting my thoughts in a less defensive manner is more difficult than I predicted. Deciding what to say, what not to say, how to not end up exactly where we’re beginning – at an impasse – is what I’m primarily focused on while dressing into my full coverage clothing.

By the time Bryn exits the manor in her high heels and black, sheer top, dress – whose top looks more like lingerie than workwear – I’m fairly comfortable with what I’m going to say.

Assuming she’s going to listen.

I open the passenger door to the SUV I’m standing beside and cheekily gesture a palm towards it. “Need a ride, Miss Winters?”

Strands from the strategically messy bun bounce around on her sassy head tilt. “On you or with you, Mr. Wilcox?”

“I’m hoping one and then the other.”

She giggles, and for the first time in two days, I swear the gray clouds in the sky part.

Or maybe just those surrounding me.

“Can I drive you to work?”

“Only because you asked so nicely.” Bryn places her hand in mind to assist in her accession inside. Once she’s settled, she grants me another red lip painted smirk. “ Thank you, Mr. Wilcox. ”

“ My pleasure, little prey. ”

As I hoped the nickname causes thrill to flash in her bright blue gaze revealing that while she may not be happy with me, she doesn’t hate me.

And that’s a damn good place to start for our overdue conversation.

After instructing Holmes and Hurst to follow behind us, I get behind the wheel to begin the extensive drive.

Sounds of M?tley Crüe quietly fuse with our uncomfortable breathing creating an awkward symphony I’m certain neither of us cares for yet can’t seem to interrupt.

It isn’t until our first turn off my official property that I finally speak. “You can’t just walk away from me every time we have a problem.”

“And you don’t get to just declare that we don’t have one.”

My mask covered mouth initially falls to fight; however, I almost immediately decide against it.

Concede.

“You’re right.”

“Often,” she sassily insists on a playful stare my way. “So often in fact that I should be the one wearing the gold gear.”

Cluelessness quickly cakes my barely seen complexion.

“It’s a Star Trek thing.”

“I’ve kind of missed watching that with you.”

Her spaghetti strap bearing shoulders slightly soften. “And I’ve kind of missed letting you watch it with me.”

Gratefulness over the proclamation leads to me shifting my glove covered hand over to her lap. “I’m sorry for the way I reacted regarding this situation with Lauren.” Our fingers fold tightly together. “My actions may have resulted in the death of your father, but I’ll be damned if my inactions cause that of your mother.”

At that, Bryn’s entire frame melts.

Completely faces me.

“You should know that Hill hasn’t reported any suspicious activity to me or Park regarding visitors to her room.”

“I like him,” my girlfriend casually declares. “He reminds me of a nurse shark. Only going to bite if stepped on.”

The comparison feels oddly comforting, and I happily lean into it. “And as for Park’s investigation into suspects, he and his team that are working on the issue have made some significant progress. They’ve used all of the data provided by Hamilton regarding dates and time periods along with access to certain parts of the property to whittle out those that didn’t fit the criteria.”

“And?!”

“And it’s still a long list, baby.”

Her nose noticeably scrunches in unhappiness.

“Patience, okay?” Lifting her hand up to my lips occurs to deliver a kiss to the back of it. “Park is basically working around the clock to get answers.”

“Thank you,” slips loose so unexpectedly it damn near causes me to swerve.

“ For? ”

“Not ignoring the truth.” She tightens her hold. “Protecting my mom like you promised.” Our eyes momentarily find one another. “Keeping your word about going box jellyfish for me.”

The small reminder of the conversation had right before our first date receives a hearty laugh along with a crooked grin. “Let’s see if that’s how you feel tonight when I threaten your boss for following you a little too closely around the club.”

Her head cocks in surprise and curiosity alike. “ Excuse me ?”

“I’ll rent a room for work.”

“You can’t just rent a room whenever. It’s not a motel. You have to have booked an event or be a member.”

Additional smugness slyly slips into place at the same time I announce, “ I already am. ”