That was a fact I couldn’t seem to forget.
Chapter Thirteen
Lexie
“Mind if I have the last chocolate glazed?”
Eric opened the box of donuts and held it out to me. “Hey, there’s two more in here.”
“Now neither of us have to sacrifice.”
I slipped off my shoes and leaned back. We’d found a primo parking space for our last delivery of the day. Cordelle Johnson had just sent a text letting us know she was running late.
Normally, I’d be disappointed because the other half of our workday was only getting started. But today, I relished the moment to relax with a semi-view of Central Park and a donut.
“Milk?” Eric reached in the cooler and pulled out the remainder of our glass bottles from the donut shop.
“You know it.”
He unscrewed the cap and handed me the chilly bottle. I took a bite of donut and swallowed it down with a swig of milk.
“This is the life, bow tie.” It had pretty much always been just us, but for the past eighteen years, it had been the two of us against the world. How I liked it best.
A car slammed on its brakes in the street up ahead. Tires squealed as the vehicle narrowly missed another. Finger salutes and curses flew, but I didn’t care.
Eric threw his donut in the box and shoved open the van door. “Lincoln! Over here!”
I nearly dropped my donut when he jerked his head in our direction. Eric ran toward him, sloshing his milk he’d forgotten to abandon in the process. Some splashed on Lincoln’s dark suit jacket, and I cringed.
Eric animatedly chattered while Lincoln wore that same stone-like expression that appeared permanently etched on his face. Except he laughed. But that was a one-off. An anomaly.
I waited for Lincoln to try to get away from Eric like a lot of people did. Instead, he listened as my brother spoke about who knew what.
And then they were headed toward the van.
Lincoln moved with long strides, yet allowed Eric to set the pace. When a man bumped into Eric, Lincoln had a word with him and the man scurried away after what appeared to be an apology.
And my brother looked at him like everyone else did.
With wonder.
Awe.
Amazement to be in Lincoln’s orbit.
I understood Eric’s attraction to him. There was something magnetic about Lincoln Hollingsworth. Like he was untouchable. Unreachable. It inspired curiosity about the man. He seemed so . . . indifferent wasn’t the word.
I searched through my vocabulary and failed to find the right adjective.
Ass.
That wasn’t what I was going for, even if it were true.
“You can have half of my donut,” Eric said when they were within earshot. “Want some milk?” He lifted the bottle.
Lincoln shook his head, but it wasn’t an annoyed brush-off. He’d declined my brother’s offer, yet he wasn’t hurtful about it.
Eric clambered back into the van.
“You can’t have any of my donut or milk,” I said when Lincoln’s figure loomed in the doorway.
“I’m more of a strawberry ice cream fan anyway.”
The steady rhythm in my chest stuttered.
“Variety is the spice of life.” Eric was like a sponge. I was pretty sure Miss Adeline had told him that recently, though I didn’t think she was referring to food.
Lincoln said nothing, just stared in that way he did like he could see my every thought.
Go away.
I smiled to myself. How do you like that thought, buddy?
Then I realized I was cross-legged, barefoot, slouching, and had flecks of chocolate icing on my pink dress. No one got to see the disaster behind closed doors. I had an image to uphold.
Pretty sure that was shot when you let him set foot in the apartment.
Why did my reasonable side have to perk up at inconvenient times?
“Do you play an instrument?”
Lincoln started at the random question. “No. Do you?”
“I want to learn piano like Lexie.”
Instead of sinking farther into my seat, I straightened. “We’ll have to clear up your schedule some for lessons.”
There had to be a teacher out there who’d do a trade of dog food instead of money.
“I’m pretty busy,” Eric said. “But I want to learn the ‘Bobby McGee’ music.”
“We’ll work on it.”
“What are you doing at Mrs. Johnson’s building?” Eric tore off a piece of donut and offered it to Lincoln who refused with a head shake.
“I wasn’t aware the property belongs to Mrs. Johnson.”
Eric munched and licked at a stay crumble of icing. “She lives there.”
Because of that, we called it Mrs. Johnson’s building. Apparently, that was unsatisfactory to Mr. Hollingsworth.
He glanced back at the building as if seeing it from a new perspective. “Do you know anyone else who resides there?”
“No. She buys our dog food. If other dogs lived there, they’d buy our dog food too.”
I pressed my lips together to keep from grinning. Eric had a confidence and swagger without being pretentious. I adored that about him.
“I’m sure they would.”
“Mrs. Johnson is running late so we’re hanging out here until she gets back.”
My brother also had no filter. While I was certain Lincoln didn’t want to hear the minute details of our lives, I had to give him credit once more. He listened to Eric as if what he was saying was of the utmost importance.
“Is this your last stop?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but Eric beat me to it.
“Yep. After this, we have to go make the batch for the next day.”
“Where do you do that? Not your apartment?” He sounded a little horrified at the thought. Given the condition he’d seen it in, that was understandable.
“We rent a shared commercial kitchen space and get a good deal for using it in the evenings.” Now who was oversharing? “And you never answered Eric’s question. Why are you at Mrs. Johnson’s building?”
“Do the other tenants create pet food as well?” His brow furrowed.
“For your information, our food is edible by humans. We use fresh and fine ingredients.” I lifted my chin. He could do whatever his business was, but should leave ours to us.
His expression remained unchanged.
“We might open a store.”
I grimaced. “Not anytime soon,” I quickly amended. We were still finding our groove. Somehow, if Lincoln knew of our plans and that we never got it launched, I’d be embarrassed at the failure.
I’d be ashamed if anyone saw us fail, but something about him knowing . . . it would cause double the shame. Maybe that was because he was so successful.
“Where would you locate it?” he asked as if I hadn’t just told him we weren’t ready.
“No idea. We just tossed it around this morning.” I finished my donut, chewing more aggressively than necessary. So much for a relaxing break.
“You should make Muffy your dog. Then we could bring you food for him every day.”
Whoa. I often wondered about the workings of Eric’s mind and where some of his thoughts came from. This one was most definitely not happening.
“I don’t have time to care for a dog.”
What Lincoln didn’t say was that he didn’t have the desire either.
“You make time for what you want to do.” Another of Eric’s pearls of wisdom.
Lincoln appeared to be at a temporary loss for words as he let that nugget soak in. “You must have a dog, considering you’re in the dog supply industry.” His tone dripped with triumph. The you of his statement didn’t feel as if it included my brother.
What he should’ve said is “Lexie, how do you consider yourself an expert at preparing dog food when you don’t have one of your own?”
That was what he meant. And it was fine if he wanted to be judgy li
ke that.
I perked up and shielded my eyes. “Oh, I think I see Mrs. Johnson. It’s been lovely to see you as always, Mr. Hollingsworth, but we must get back to business. You understand.” I flashed him the fakest smile I could muster. One that meant go away, ass.
He continued to block Eric’s doorway. “When do you have time in your schedule for a visit to the tailor? Would Sunday morning be suitable?”
“Yes!” Eric answered without considering anything else.
And because of his excitement, I couldn’t protest. That wouldn’t be fair to him just to spite Lincoln.
“I’ll text you the time I’ll collect you.”
“We aren’t trinkets,” I said smartly.
He tilted his head. “No, you most certainly aren’t.”
“Lincoln, I’ve been waiting for you for fifteen minutes. Don’t waste more of my time carousing.”
He stiffened at the harsh words and seemed to steel himself before he turned around. When he stepped away from the van, the older version of Lincoln stood on the sidewalk. So that’s where he learned that pissed off expression.
Wordlessly, Lincoln stalked away in the direction of Mrs. Johnson’s building. From the moment of locking eyes on his father, I’d been unimpressed. Pretentious. Jerk. Two words that seemed to sum him up, if I had to. I’d lived with people like that.
You’ll never amount to anything, Lexie. You . . . and him.
As much as I despised our horrid parents, maybe they weren't as bad as Samuel Hollingsworth. Maybe.
Chapter Fourteen
Lincoln
“I’ve buried this as deep as I can, but it isn’t going away.”
My father paced in my home office space. I wanted him gone. Out of my sanctuary.
What would it be like to have the kind of relationship where I welcomed his presence? One where we had dinner and chatted about . . . whatever it was most relatives discussed.
At least have the courtesy to be gone before Beau returns.
For once, I was grateful for the late hours she’d been keeping.
Who is Mrs. Johnson?
I didn’t know any of the neighbors in my building because I had the luxury of avoiding them. My private elevator went to my private garage and my three levels at the top. Today was the rare occasion where I used the front entrance because I’d walked from the underground subway station. Beau had insisted we use that mode of transportation to get a better feel for the area around the property I wished to purchase. Despite she hadn't been with me when I left Daniel’s, I’d taken the subway home anyway.
Thick fingers snapped in front of my face.
“Are you listening to me?”
No. No, I was not. But it would be better to remain silent than admit that. And who the hell snaps their fingers at a forty-one-year-old man?
“I’ll see to the matter.” Although I’d put it off as if that were my profession. I rescheduled two meetings with attorneys and refused to let the events of a couple of days ago enter my mind. Except my sister, Daniel, and my father were determined to keep it front and center.
“If it weren’t for me, you’d be in a cell at the moment.”
It’s a wonder I’m not in one because of you.
I spun in my chair and looked out at the park view. The days were getting longer. People milled about, enjoying the slightly warmer air. I’d taken for granted the ability to move about as I pleased.
Freedom.
“You’re behaving as if Teague’s nuptials mean nothing to you.”
I wheeled back around. “His wedding has nothing to do with this.”
“I’m certain he’d be devastated not to have his brother stand up for him because he’s in prison.”
I mashed my lips together, hating that he always knew the exact thing to say to get what he wanted.
I’d never forgive myself if I missed Teague and Pepper’s wedding. Never.
“I’ll be there,” I grated out.
“Not if you don’t take your defense more seriously.”
“Did it ever occur to you that I’m innocent?”
He waved his hand in front of him. “Your guilt or innocence matters not to me. But I’ll be damned if you soil this family’s name. If you did what you’re accused of, you should’ve at least had the decency not to get caught.”
Bastard.
I balled my fist to keep from throwing all the contents of my desk at him. He’d take too much pleasure in an emotional display.
“You have an appointment first thing in the morning with Kane Zegas and Patrick Whitley. Do not miss another.”
The teenage boy in me who never acted out wanted to ask, Or what? Instead, I kept my mouth shut. My silence was more effective than an outburst.
“I expect you won’t neglect your responsibilities to the company in spite of the distraction.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll fix this, but you will cooperate.”
The heaviness of his presence lingered after he’d disappeared. I stared at the empty space. If I were locked away, at least I wouldn’t be as accessible to him.
The thought of my father having to get permission to speak to me was appealing. In the movies, prisoners were portrayed as having the right to refuse to see visitors.
One sliver of stress eased at the idea of rejecting his visits.
Who was I kidding? If I were incarcerated, he’d never visit me.
He’d disown me.
That wasn’t such a horrible notion either.
Except I’d built the company that meant so much to him. Made it better. Made it mine, even if he was the figurehead. It had given me solace when nothing else could.
Real estate had given me purpose, a focus, a reason to put one foot in front of the other. A lucky side effect was that I loved it. If I could choose a profession, that would be it. Not many people could say that.
But I hated my father.
For the way he treated Beau and Teague.
For taking my mother for granted.
For being a fraud to the outside world.
For behaving as if my existence was to serve him.
Very few truly knew how he was. To them, we were a powerhouse family. Close-knit. Near perfect. Unstoppable.
He was a loving, doting father. A man who’d lost his wife and raised three successful children.
He’d triumphed over tragedy.
While that much was true—he hadn’t let Mother’s death keep him down—the rest was a sham. He only cared about my siblings and me as far as it affected him.
I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d already met with the lawyers himself. He’d obviously had the story buried, and there was no telling who or what amount he’d paid to stop the investigation. He’d probably find someone in a desperate situation to take the fall for me.
Money solved all his problems.
Money and power were the reasons he breathed.
Greed consumed him.
And I didn’t care about any of those things.
Money and power were a means to an end. I had enough and wasn’t motivated by either.
“Is he gone?”
I lifted my gaze to find my sister in the doorway. “For now.”
“Do you think Satan leaves that chill behind when he makes an exit?” She kicked off her shoes.
The slight clutter reminded me of Lexie. Were her shoes by the front door?
“I can’t imagine it would have anything on Father’s.” I retrieved two glasses from the bar. “You’re home early.”
“I’ve been thinking about your property.” She stretched out on the sofa near the fireplace.
“Still believe it’s a bad idea?” I lifted her feet and sat, replacing them on my lap.
I hadn’t had anyone at home since the last time she’d visited. While I was happy for Teague, I’d liked having them both here. It was nice not to be alone. Nice to be with the people who mattered most to me.
“Yeah, but you got me out of the hell-no camp to just a no.” She adjusted a pillo
w behind her back. “Which is pretty impressive since you weren’t really trying.”
“Maybe big brother knows what he’s talking about?” Some of the pressure in my chest released.
She downed her drink. “That’s a hell no.”
“Why are we such strangers?”
Beau furrowed her brow. I was surprised by my spontaneous question also.
She thought for a minute. “It’s hard when we live so far away.”
“We speak most every day,” I argued.
“About business. I don’t know if you’ve been on a date, out to a baseball game, or slept with most of the city. I could get more info out of that painting than you.” She pointed to the oil painting of red slashes on a white canvas.
So I wasn’t verbose. Beau and Teague knew more about me than anyone. Yet there was still this distance between us. As if we were close strangers.
“I know nothing of your social life either.”
“I tell you all the time about places I’ve been, people I’ve hung out with.”
“You never introduced me to Lexie.” Why had I brought her up?
“How many times did I invite you out with me? Every time, except when I wanted a girls’ night. You always turned me down because you were working.” She spoke the word as if it were the vilest in the English language.
It was true. I had declined every invitation to socialize.
“At least now you can understand why.”
She set her glass on the floor. “No. No, I don’t understand.”
How did I explain my rationale? I was so used to keeping everything guarded, especially from my siblings. It was my responsibility to bear all of the burden so they could enjoy life.
I’d asked her why we were strangers. The answer was that it was mostly because of me. And I still couldn’t make my mouth open and form words even now.
“You’re a clam. I get it. That’s how men are. But you’re zipped up so tight, you’re impossible to get through to.” She yanked on her necklace. “I used to think it was our age difference. That I was the annoying little sister.”
“You are an annoying little sister.”
The streak of hurt on her features slashed through me. I clamped a hand on her ankle.
Rise: Rise & Fall Duet Book 1 (Shaken 3) Page 7