2. Skyler

I should be charming the shit out of my boss’s boss. Making a good impression.

It’s the only thing that’s kept my job safe these past years. If you’re going to work remotely, you’ve got to be memorable. You’ve got to be better than good.

But there’s a dude at the bar that keeps distracting me. We’re at some brewery in Boulder. It’s trendy as fuck and I’m surrounded by rugged ‘bad asses’ who wouldn’t know a fence post driver from a parking meter.

Leather jackets. Work boots that have never seen a speck of dirt.

But that guy at the bar takes it to the next level. He’s got a retro punk rock shirt on under his jacket. What grown ass man, well into his fifties at least, still dresses like that?

“Skyler?”

I pull myself back, automatically straightening my glasses as I turn to my boss. “Sorry, got distracted there. What was that?”

Rick laughs. “I was asking when you’re going to move to headquarters. Smart guy like you belongs in San Francisco. Not out in the sticks counting cattle.”

He’s right about that. And very, very wrong. I don’t belong out in Silver Bend, that’s true. But I can never leave. I shrug, smiling, and give him the same answer I give them every time. “Maybe someday.”

Maybe never.

Rick slaps my shoulder. “Next time you’re in California, you should stay at the beach house with my wife and me. Frankie’s a farm girl, too. She’d love you.”

We part ways and I make my way over to the bar. This guy is really getting under my skin. He looks so fucking familiar. I sidle up to the bar next to him and he locks eyes with me. That gaze zings through me and in an instant, I know who he is. We’ve never met. Not once. But I recognize those eyes, because I see them at every Thanksgiving. Every Christmas gathering. On my dad. On my uncle and my cousins. In my own mirror.

His gaze travels across my face and his eyes widen. “Fuck me.”

I drop onto the stool next to him. “Are you…”

“Don? Yes. And you must be… goddamn, I’m not sure. How terrible is that? You look just like Chad. But you’ve got Brad’s dark coloring.”

“I’m Brad’s oldest.”

“Ho-ly shit.”

He drags the words out. A gruff laugh spills off his lips. “Bet you didn’t think you’d run into your Uncle Don when you came here tonight, did you?”

“No. I did not. Do you work for Wheaton Analytics?”

“My partner does contract work. You must work in tech?”

“Yeah. Data analytics, mostly.”

He spins his drink, amber liquid in a crystal glass. “You live out this way?”

“Mitch does. My little brother. I work remotely back home.”

“From Silver Bend?”

I nod.

He shakes his head. “My condolences.”

The bartender returns and I nod at him. “Knob Creek. Neat.”

“Great minds think alike.”

The bartender comments, moving away.

Uncle Don is laughing. He holds up his glass, toasting me. “I ordered the same thing.”

I sip my bourbon, trying not to stare, but it’s fucking unnerving. Like running into a clone in the middle of a crowd.

“I can’t get over how much you look like them. My brothers.”

Uncle Don shakes his head. “It’s a damn shame we never met before today. But that’s life for you. We can’t all be winners.”

I scan his face, the dark eyes that look just like mine. A sharp jab of anger pulses through me. What could have happened between brothers to drive a wedge so wide? I clear my throat. “Why’d you leave—if you don’t mind me asking?”

Uncle Don gives me a sharp look. “They never told you?”

I shrug, uncomfortable. “I know there was some dispute around the inheritance and the will. That it got pretty ugly in court.”

“Did they tell you what the dispute was about?”

“Just that you wanted more than what Grandpa Thomas gave you…”

He huffs a laugh. “And that’s it? That’s all they ever said?”

I nod, feeling helpless.

“Nice to know that some things never change. It was a dirty secret back then, but I like to think culture’s moved on. Evolved.”

I tilt my head, confused.

“I’m gay, kiddo. Your grandpa gave me two options. Give up my sinful ways or lose my inheritance. Guess which way I went?”

A cold feeling settles at the base of my spine and crawls upwards. It can’t really be as simple as that, can it? My dad makes and breaks his life on honor. Duty. I can’t fathom him abandoning a brother over something as simple as who he chose to love. “And they sided with grandpa?”

Uncle Don laughs. “Can you blame them? There were millions at stake.”

He meets my gaze. “You may not believe me, but I’ll state it, anyway. I was never after the money. I was after justice. Didn’t get it, but I got my freedom and that served me better.”

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

“What are you apologizing for? You can’t blame the son for the sins of his father.”

He gives me a lopsided grin. “Best thing that family ever did for me was cutting me loose. You gotta watch your family ties, son. They can tangle you up in knots.”