Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 37344 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 187(@200wpm)___ 149(@250wpm)___ 124(@300wpm)
My heart leaps into my throat, thinking for a moment that Ben is following up his flower delivery with an in-person visit. But when I see my brother looking down at me over my cubicle wall, my heart drops into my stomach and much like breathing or blinking, the corners of my mouth pull downward like an involuntary reaction.
That explains the excited conversations around me. Eric Greene has been a sports star here in LA ever since his days starring at USC. Of course, everybody knows who he is. And given that this is the sports office, of course, everybody is excited to see him live and in the flesh. I’m less excited. I love my brother, but most days, I don’t like him very much. To say our relationship is complicated feels like a vast understatement.
“Gee, don’t look so happy to see me, sis,” he says with a grin.
“What are you doing here, Eric? I’m working.”
“I-I’m just going to let you two catch up,” Ian says with a grimace. “I’ll catch up with you later, Bailey.”
I want to tell him to stay, but he’s gone before I can utter a syllable. Bastard.
“Who are the flowers from?” Eric asks.
“What are you doing here?”
“Had the afternoon off. Thought I’d take my favorite little sister to lunch.”
“I’m your only sister. And why? What do you want?”
He grins and shakes his head. “Do I need a reason to take you to lunch?”
“Honestly? Yeah. You do. It’s not like we get along all that well.”
He sighs. “That’s something I want to change, Bailey.”
“Why? You’ve never given a shit about me before.”
“That’s not true,” he says sharply. “If anything, I’ve given too much of a shit about you.”
“If by giving too much of a shit you mean trying to control every facet of my life, then yeah, I suppose you’re right.”
He opens his mouth to argue but hesitates and closes it again. Eric draws a breath and lets it out slowly, taking a couple of beats to gather himself.
“I don’t want to argue,” he says. “I just… I realized that with Mom and Dad gone, you’re the only family I have left, and I don’t want us to be like this.”
I sit back in my chair and look closely at my brother. He looks and sounds sincere, and despite my best efforts, I feel the wall of ice around my heart start to melt. It’s just a trickle but compared to what my feelings for my brother have been for years now, it’s a torrent and I feel myself start to soften.
“I don’t want us to be like this either,” I say.
He smiles and walks into my cube, pulls me to my feet, and throws his arms around me. It’s the first hug I’ve shared with my brother since the day of our parents’ funeral, and I have to admit, it’s unexpected but feels nice.
“So, where are we going for lunch? Your pick. We’ll go wherever you want to go, Bails.”
I purse my lips and look away while I ponder my choices. As I do, Eric picks up the card I left sitting on my desk and reads it. And as he does, I see his face redden and his features twist with anger. He looks up and shakes the card.
“Are these from Ben Givens?” he growls. “What does he mean about passion—”
I rip the card out of his hand. “That’s not none of your business.”
“It is my business. You’re my little sister, and you need to stay away from him,” he says. “You don’t even know how many women that guy fucks. I’m not going to sit by and let him screw you over and break your heart, Bails. You need to stay the fuck away from him.”
A sneer crosses my lips, that old, familiar anger surging to the surface again. “This is what I’m talking about, Eric. I’m a grown woman, and you can’t control me. You don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not our parents so you need to stop pretending you are.”
“You’re my sister. It’s my job to look out for you—”
“No, it’s not. It’s really not,” I cut him off. “This is exactly why we don’t speak often, Eric. You’re my brother. You don’t get to tell me who I can and can’t see.”
“Bails—”
“I knew this was a bad idea,” I say. “You need to go. Now.”
“Come on—”
“I have work to do. Get out, Eric,” I hiss, “or I’ll have security escort you out.”
His expression darkens, and he glowers at me. Shaking his head, he turns and stalks away, muttering darkly to himself as he goes. I watch him head to the elevator, and with the rage inside of me simmering, I realize that everybody in the sports office is looking at me. My face burning so bright I can feel the warmth in the tips of my ears, I sit down, hiding from the openly curious stares behind my cubicle walls. I scrub my face with my hands and try to shake off the complex mélange of emotions churning in the pit of my belly.