Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(78)

“Fine,” I said, shrugging. “Do it. Take the studio, take the apartment. I have my car, and my dignity, and that’s fine by me.”

Dad laughed, shaking his head like I was delusional. “You’ve lost your mind, little girl. You’ll be excommunicated from this family, from our money, from everything — and that shop is gone. That’s not a threat. That’s a promise.”

I shrugged, though my heart squeezed painfully in my chest. I knew this was how he would react, and I knew when I walked out of my studio this morning that the dream I’d built inside it would be gone.

It was a sacrifice worth making, because this was the right thing to do.

“That’s fine, if that’s your choice,” I said calmly. “But this is mine.”

Dad shook his head, face screwed up in confusion like I was certifiably insane. And maybe I was. All I knew was I could never live with myself, playing a part in his game just to have a studio that I could maybe have on my own someday. It would take longer. I’d need a loan, and a business plan, maybe some investors. It wouldn’t be easy.

But nothing in my life had been.

I knew one thing for sure — I never wanted to be in debt to my father, and I never wanted to be a part of any plan that hurt the man I loved.

“I know you don’t want another scandal rocking this family, and I definitely know that with everything in the news right now, with the way companies and celebrities are getting shut down by women coming forward with their stories, this is the kind of scandal you never want to leak. So, if you want me to keep my mouth shut, I will. But you have to do this for me.”

Dad’s jaw clenched, face red. I gave him one last pointed look before I turned and crossed the office, opening the door that led to the hallway.

“Make it right, Dad,” I said. “You have until New Year’s.”

Then, I slammed the door on the devil, and vowed to never make a deal with him again.





Logan


A week off from work was too long when you were miserable.

Having Christmas off was a blessing. The distillery was the absolute last place I wanted to be after the party on Christmas Eve, and spending time with my family was exactly what I needed. But that night, when I’d gone home, I’d realized it was going to be a long, lonely week.

I was so used to filling all my time with Mallory, I didn’t know what to do with myself. My usual routine felt stale and suffocating now, like I was wasting time instead of making the most of it. I longed to reach out to her, to talk to her, to hold her — even with the sting of the burn she’d left fresh on my skin.

My brothers said leave her be, let her go.

My heart said go to her, hold on.

I sat in that tornado of thoughts all week, trying anything I could to keep my mind off things and failing. Working out didn’t help. Reading didn’t help. Cleaning didn’t help. Not even an all-day marathon of murder documentaries on Friday helped. The closest I’d come to feeling okay was Saturday night at The Black Hole with my brothers. Noah was back in town, and we’d taken him out to get his mind off leaving Ruby Grace. It’d been a night of Becker debauchery, and then we’d ordered pizza at one in the morning and sat up all night trying to crack the password on Dad’s hard drive.

It felt like old times, like when we were kids staying up too late during winter break, dreading the time when we’d go back to school.

And that’s what it felt like, dragging myself back through the distillery doors on Monday morning — New Year’s Eve. As much as I couldn’t wait to get back to work, to have something to keep my mind off everything, it was a catch twenty-two.

Because everything I wanted to forget about was inside those walls.

The sympathetic looks started in the lobby, with Lucy, and they followed me all the way back to my office. A few people stopped me on the way, shaking my hand and holding my shoulder in sincerity when they said they were sorry, that it was all bullshit, that they were on my side.

Like it mattered.

My stomach churned, even after I was in the solace of my office, because I knew at any moment, Mallory would be there, too. I didn’t know if she’d walk in and go straight into Mac’s office, start working on transitioning, or if she’d be doing tours with me — business as usual. I didn’t know if she’d try to apologize again, if I’d be able to listen.

If I’d be able to stay away.

Again, I found myself at war with what my brothers had said at Mom’s. They urged me to stay, to not give up on the career I’d built, the reputation I had, the legacy our father started that we were keeping alive.

But now that I was in my office, in a place that used to bring me hope, and fuel, and drive — I only found hopelessness.

I sighed, staring at my desk for far too long before I actually sat down at it. I pulled up my emails, whipped out my highlighters and schedule and clipboard, and tried to get into the groove just like I would have any other Monday morning. And twenty minutes in, I found myself slipping away, into work, out of my mind.

Until there was a knock at my door.

My stomach dropped, heart leaping into my throat as I stared at the door. I didn’t know who was on the other side of it, only that if it was the person I thought it was, I wasn’t ready.

But I had no choice.

“Come in,” I croaked out, keeping my eyes on my schedule and pretending it needed my full attention. I started highlighting things that didn’t need to be highlighted, just so I wouldn’t have to look up.