by Tessa Teevan
“We don’t have time Branson. Plus, I don’t want to ruin my makeup.”
“Come on, Megan.” I tug playfully on her arm, but she just glares at me. “It’s been weeks. I’ve missed you.”
“Oh, get real, Branson. You live for your business trips. You probably didn’t even notice I wasn’t around. Now, can we please leave? I need at least two glasses of champagne before I want to start dealing with your mother about when we’re going to have children.”
“We’d have to sleep together for that to happen,” I mutter under my breath, but either she doesn’t hear me or she just ignores my comment.
Without a response, she exits our room, and I just stare after her. She has a point. I don’t know if it’s that I missed Megan or if I missed the thought of her. Or, hell, just a warm body in my bed.
Don’t get me wrong. I’ve kept up my end of the infidelity clause from the prenup. But it’s becoming increasingly harder to be intimate with someone who seems to want nothing to do with me. Maybe she’s right. I tell myself that I’m accepting to go on all the trips to prove to Dad that I’m ready to step up and take on more responsibility. But maybe it’s also to get away from her. That thought alone should make me feel like shit. And it does—for a split second, until Megan pops her head back in, asking once again about Knox.
I shouldn’t be surprised. Ever since Knox’s accident, she’s been increasingly curious about him. She acts as if she’s just a concerned sister-in-law, but I’m not an idiot. If I know my wife—and despite the cavern that’s growing between us, I know her—she’s in the “what if” phase of life right now. And you know what? That would make two of us.
But before I can continue to dwell on it, my phone vibrates and I see a text from Cohen telling me that Knox has, indeed, arrived. And he’s not alone. Too bad for Megan. This should be fun.
Well. Here we fucking go.
WHEN WE get to my parents’ estate, Megan and I venture to the backyard, where my parents’ annual Labor Day party is in full swing. She, as promised, slips off to the bar for her preemptive champagne, and I’m intercepted by Dad, who’s already talking business with a new potential client.
I’m struggling to concentrate, and Dad must notice because he signals to a passing waiter and orders me a drink. My tie is choking me, and it’s not from the September heat. No, it’s more than that. My brother, the brother who hates my guts, is inside the house, and after eleven years and a whole lot of fucking distance between us, I have no idea how things are going to go.
I spot Cohen across the yard and excuse myself so I can get the scoop on Knox’s date.
“Hey, kid,” I say nonchalantly as I stroll up to him. He eyes me wearily. “What? What’s that look for?”
“Look, I know I was just a kid when things went down with you and Knox, but I know enough. The only reason he’s here is because of Charlie. So please, please, don’t go fucking this up. Mom needs this. Our family needs this.”
I’m a little taken aback at his insistence. Cohen’s always been the quiet, nerdy kid, and he’s never even mentioned what happened between us before. And I have to admit, it kind of hurts that he’s so quick to defend the brother who left him twelve years ago. Sure, I might not have been the best, but I was there when he needed me. It’s almost enough to just let me live up to my reputation. But at the same time, I know he’s right. Mom, if no one else, needs this.
“Okay, okay. Calm down, killer. I won’t screw this up for Mom. Or anyone else. Now who’s Charlie? That the girl Megan saw him with at the boxing gym?”
Yeah, she made sure to tell me all about the sexy little brunette he was making out with after she’d gone to Clarksville to personally extend an invitation to the party. Let’s just say she was less than impressed. But me? I’m intrigued about this woman. I’m guessing she has something to do with Knox’s change of heart when it comes to being a part of the Wellington clan.
Cohen shakes his head at me. “No. No way, Branson. Don’t even think about it. She’s Knox’s girl through and through. She and Megan couldn’t be on more opposite ends of the spectrum if they tried. So don’t even go there.”
“Hmm. We’ll see about that,” I whisper under my breath.
“What was that?” he asks, and I shake my head and give him a warm smile.
“Nothing, kid. Come on. I think it’s time I say hello to our brother.”
As we start to walk towards the door, Cohen gets sidetracked by an old family friend. He looks panicked when I walk away, and I grin at him. He pales. I grin again.
I may be a dickhead, but I’m pretty sure I did Knox a favor by getting him away from Megan. Let’s see if I can’t do it again.
AS I open up the doors, I hear my wife’s exasperated voice, and when I step in and see her gaping at a gorgeous brunette, I can’t help but smile. The way Megan’s looking at her lets me know she’s the one here with Knox. Megan couldn’t be more obvious if she tried. My wife is as bitchy as she is beautiful, and she’s always been gorgeous. But jealousy? Not a good look on her.
Crossing the room, I join Megan at the island, where I place my hand on the small of her back. I'm barely bothered by the fact that she flinches, and even though I want to sigh and just leave, I keep up pretenses as I study the woman across from us. The way she's glaring at me lets me know she's aware of who I am and what I've done. Her eyes rake over me, but she's not checking me out. No, I'm pretty sure she's sizing me up, and I feel a slight prickling on my neck, knowing she's comparing me to Knox. Plastering on a smile I know can only be construed as fake, I turn to Megan.
“Megan, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?” I ask as my eyes move back to Charlie, checking her out and not making it any secret that I like what I see.
My brother sure knows how to pick them. I let my gaze linger on her chest a little longer than it should. More for Megan's benefit than my own, and I feel her stiffen next to me. Good. Perhaps she'll remember that feeling when she sees Knox again.
“This…girl is not my friend,” Megan says emphatically, as if that’d be the worst thing in the world.
My eyebrows rise as I look back and forth between the two of them, feigning ignorance and pretending I have no idea she's Knox's girl.
The brunette reaches her arm across the island, and I offer mine to shake. “Charlie Davenport. I’m assuming you’re Branson?” she asks. Oh yeah, she knows exactly who I am. And by the looks of it, she’s not impressed.
Disregarding her blatant disapproval, I bring her hand to my lips and place a gentle kiss on the back of it, but she quickly pulls away. I don't miss the way Megan's scowling, but I ignore her. I'm about to ask who she's here with when Cohen enters the room. Charlie all but squeals when she sees him, and a quick burst of jealously flows through me as they greet each other with familiarity. Not because I want her, but because her greeting is the polar opposite of the one she gave me. Deservedly so, but still—it fuckin' hurts more than it should. Pushing the thought out of my mind, I let the feeling slide off, more than used to the cold shoulder, especially where Knox is concerned.
A moment later, Knox and Mom enter the kitchen, and it's as if Megan and I aren't even here. He's more concerned about Cohen's hands on his woman—not that I can blame him. His track record with brothers and girlfriends isn't the most stellar, thanks to your truly. He takes her out of Cohen's arms and makes a big show of planting a kiss on her lips. I start to sweat, and I'm not sure I'm ready for this—being in the same room with him again, knowing how much he hates me. Taking the coward’s way out, I slip back out into the backyard, but not before I hear Charlie's declaration. One I'm sure is meant for me.
“Don’t worry, Rugged. You’re all the Wellington I’ll ever need.”
THOSE WORDS should've been enough for me to know that Charlie has eyes only for Knox, but they're not. I wrecked his life once when it came to a woman, and I'm not letting it happen again. Even if it means he'll end up hating me even more, I'm doing something I should've done a
long time ago. I'm acting like the older brother I should be. My methods, however, leave little to be desired, but no one ever said that I was a genius.
Somehow, later on in the evening, I’m able to catch Charlie sitting all alone on a bench, drinking a glass of wine and listening to the music of the blues band Mom and Dad hired for entertainment. Knox is off regaling old family friends with war stories, and to be honest, I wish I could be a part of it. But he looks comfortable as long as I keep my distance, so I’ll give him that. I’ve never seen Mom and Cohen look as happy as they do tonight, and I know it’s because of his presence. So I won’t do anything to mess with that. It’s my own damn fault, and part of me wants to just get out of here and leave them to their reunion in peace. I should leave well enough alone, but when I spot her, I just can’t help myself.
As I approach Charlie, I notice that her eyes are closed and she looks completely relaxed. Only feeling slightly guilty that I'm about to change, I push forward, ready to gauge her interest in my brother.
"Is this seat taken?" I don't bother waiting for her to answer before sitting down on the bench next to her.
She opens her eyes, and I swear, she rolls them in my direction before shifting in her seat so she's facing away from me.
“So, Charlie, you’re here with my brother?” I ask, inching just a bit closer to her.
I can tell that she's absolutely not having it, and I know I should stop now, but I never have been able to back down from a challenge. And this girl? She’s definitely challenging. I can see why my brother wants her.
“I am,” she says simply, offering nothing more than that.
Fuck. Don't do it, Branson. Don't fucking do it.
I do it.
“You know, I could give you so much more than he can,” I whisper, allowing my finger to touch her bare shoulder. “You’re gorgeous. Just think of the fun we can have. The last girl he had found out how much more of a man I am, and I bet I can convince you, too.”
Oh, boy. That pissed her off. Fire lights in her eyes, and if she were a cartoon character, she’d have steam pouring out of her ears. She turns about three shades of red, and if I didn’t know better, I’d say that she’s about two seconds away from punching me. Not that I’d blame her. Knox sure as hell found a feisty one, and I know now that this girl is miles more suited for my brother than Megan ever was. And good for him.
I'm about to apologize and tell her that she passed the test when she jumps up, spilling her wine on her dress. Cursing, she hurries away from me, and I follow, knowing I need to set the record straight here. I wasn't actually trying to hit on my brother's girlfriend. I was just making sure she wasn't Megan Caldwell 2.0. In hindsight, I probably could've gone about it a different way, but it's too late. The damage is done.
When I get inside, she's searching for what I'm guessing are the paper towels. I do one better—find a dishrag and wet it. Then I cross the room, where I start helping clean her up, trying my hardest not to touch her anywhere intimately.
"Look, Charlie, I'm sor—"
She cuts me off as she grabs hold of my wrist and pulls my arm behind my back, moving behind me. I can't help the less-than-masculine cry of pain that escapes my lips when she twists it. Then she pushes my face down onto the island, twisting my arm even harder, almost to the point I feel like it’s going to snap.
"What the fuck! You stupid bitch," I can't help but growl. My mom taught me never to talk to a woman that way, but holy hell, I've never been put in an arm bar by one before. I silently curse myself, remembering that Megan said that she saw Charlie and Knox sparring together. Her defending herself against her boyfriend's evil brother shouldn't come as a surprise.
Apparently, she doesn't love the bitch term of endearment. Her hand presses against my cheek as she pushes my face into the counter. She's breathing hard and seething. I know that, with one swift move, I could escape her hold and have her pinned against the counter, but I've done enough damage. I let her take her rage out on me. And boy, does she ever.
“Let’s get one thing straight, asshole. I care about your brother, and no amount of flash or money could ever make me even look your way twice. The way I see it, you and Megan did Knox a favor, and while I should say thank you, you’re too much of a jerk to hear those words. Do not ever touch me again. Don’t even fucking look at me, for that matter.” She pushes on my face once more for emphasis before she lets go and backs away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spot my dad, and I assume he witnessed the whole thing. I guess I might as well play up the jerk-of-a-brother aspect, calling Charlie a bitch one more time as I shake the pain out of my arm. Instead of getting pissed, she just stares me down, not noticing Dad until he enters the room. He glares at me before turning to Charlie and introducing himself.
Charlie’s eyes widen at my dad’s name of Knox, clearly surprised that her boyfriend, the second born, is named after our father. She glances over at me, and I can’t help but smirk at her, which earns me a solid glare.
“It’s nice to meet you, Charlie. I apologize for my son here. Until tonight, I didn’t actually believe he had a thing for his brother’s girls. I’m sorry you were subjected to that.”
Yep, that's me. Branson Wellington. The asshole jerk who can't get his own girls, so he steals his brother's. One fucking mistake in my life and I can't get away from it. I guess marrying the mistake didn't do anything to change their minds.
Charlie hits the nail on the head when she looks at my dad with confusion on her face. “You didn’t know he stole Megan from Knox?”
Groaning inwardly, I'm about to give them a history lesson, but Dad beats me to the punch. I can't help but hear the disappointment in his voice. Nor do I miss the fact that he's doing everything he can to not look at me.
“I had my suspicions, but I’d already lost one son. I tried to ignore them, but he just confirmed it for me,” he says, shaking his head, a look of shame washing over him.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Wellington,” Charlie says softly.
Dad sighs, giving me a look that says, We’ll discuss this later. Oh joy. “Not as sorry as I am.”
Just as I'm about to defend myself, the door opens and Knox enters with both Mom and Cohen behind him. My dutiful little wife is hot on Knox's trail, but he only has eyes for Charlie. That is until he sees me and stiffens. Charlie places a gentle hand on his arm and whispers in his ear. In that moment, I’m jealous of my little brother all over again.
For the second time in my life, he has something I want. But this time, there’s no way in hell I’ll ever be able to get it. Because the look he’s giving Charlie? My wife is giving it to him. A look she’s never given me. I have a feeling I’m not the only one regretting that night from eleven years ago.
I thought I had it all. The girl. The job.
I couldn’t have been more wrong. Because something tells me that I’m in a downward spiral and I’m on the verge of losing it all.
Present
FINALLY, I feel like I’m getting a reprieve as the images start to speed up, not plaguing me with every tortuous detail of all the times I’ve screwed up. I guess those were the important ones. The pivotal ones. The ones that have changed my life forever. As a shrewd businessman, I’m well versed in decision making. But holy fuck—when it comes to my personal life, it’s just been one bad choice after another.
My fingers flex, and I’m not sure if I caused the movement or if it was involuntary. But the moment I do, I hear an, “Oh,” and soft, warm fingers tightening over mine. An errant thumb rubs small circles on my skin.
Wake up, Branson.
At first, I think it’s Megan. It has to be Megan. But then I remember the divorce and the aftermath. That voice. I know it, but the pain medication must be messing with my brain because I can’t place it. Once again, that remembering problem is fucking with my life.
“Jesus, Branson. It’s not even noon yet. Do you have a drinking problem or something?”
“No, Knox. I don’t h
ave a drinking problem. I have a remembering problem.”
I can almost see the look of pity in his eyes as I left the room, the concern that crossed between him and Cohen, but they didn’t get it. I know they thought I meant Megan. That I was trying to forget. But in reality, I really was trying to remember. The beautiful angel who swooped into that hotel bar and knocked me on my ass. The one who left my drunken ass the next morning without so much as a goodbye. The woman I’ve been trying to remember. Because of all the other memories I have, none of them live up to the night with her.
That’s the night my life truly began to shift. I might have been three sheets to the wind, but when I woke up the next day, I knew I needed to get my act together. Yeah, maybe I was getting a divorce, but with losing Megan, I had somewhat started to gain back my family. I might not have felt like I deserved it. Even to this day, it’s still a struggle to let go of the guilt of what I’ve done, but something she said to me that night stuck with me, even if I can’t remember verbatim what it was.
Please wake up. You saved me. Now I need you to wake up so it wasn’t for nothing.
And then it registers. I know that voice. I’ve heard those words. The woman from the car. The woman with the face so familiar, yet I couldn’t place her until now. The face I’ve been trying to picture for months. The face that’s been the source of all my benders. The beautiful face of the woman who once tried to save me even if she had no idea that what she was doing was trying to save me from myself.
And she came pretty damn close.
AS THE nurse wheels me down the hall, panic nearly sets in as she begins bombarding me with questions about Branson and me.
“How long have you been engaged?”
“Where did you meet?”
“When’s the wedding?”
Not long. Atlanta. We haven’t made any plans yet.
My heart races as I struggle to answer her as honestly as I can, but who am I kidding? The only honest thing I’ve said is that we met in Atlanta, and even that’s kind of a stretch. When I left him all those months ago, he was sleeping off a wicked hangover, and I’m not even sure he’d remember me unless I was standing over him with a bottle of scotch.