Bro Code(47)

“It's good to see you, too, sir.” I watch as Mrs. Saunders passes her husband the corkscrew, but his hands struggle with it some, the tension not quite enough to make it pop open. “Let me get that for you.”

He surrenders the bottle with a sigh, shaking his head before sitting down at the table. “I swear, half my body is giving up these days. I guess it's no surprise the factory is doing the same damn thing.”

Ava's jaw tenses, and everyone but her father sees it. Her mother hurries to get a few glasses so I can pour the wine, and when I hand the first one to Ava, she thanks me under her breath.

“Let's not think about all of that tonight,” I declare, holding up my own glass once all of them are passed around. “How about we have a toast?”

Ava raises her glass, and looks at me. “To?”

I meet her eyes, then look away. “To doing the right thing, no matter where it takes you.”

Everyone takes a sip from their glasses, and then plates are filled and we begin to eat. Ava's gaze lingers on mine, as if she's trying to decipher my toast. If only I knew what doing the right thing was.

Even Mr. Saunders relaxes after the wine makes one more round around the table, asking me about my work in Chicago. He's never studied law himself, but whenever I talk about it, I always get the sense that he's really listening. Mrs. Saunders chimes in once in a while, although she mostly looks happy that we're carving through the food.

Once the dishes are taken care of, I thank everyone for dinner, and excuse myself to the door. It's a three-hour drive back home, and there's no way I can let myself stay here tonight, not with Ava so close. She knows it, too, following me to the entryway with a wistful sort of smile on her face.

“Driving back tonight?” she asks.

“I have to. Work in the morning.” I was barely able to pull enough coverage tonight, and I've made my promises. Breaking them just isn't in the cards.

She steals a look over her shoulder. Both her parents seem occupied in the kitchen, and she takes the opportunity to cup my face and pull me down for a kiss. It's a goodbye without words, the warmth of her mouth and her faint vanilla scent making my chest ache.

“Guess I'll see you later.” She runs the back of her knuckles down my shirt, brushing over my abs. “Things always work out like they're supposed to, right? Even if it's not how we planned.”

“Exactly.” I have to believe that. I have to take the next step forward.

There's a sadness in her eyes when she closes the door behind me, and I'm left standing on the snowy porch by myself feeling empty and alone. Shaking my head, I pull out my keys and start making my way back to the car.

No matter what I might feel inside, this is the way things have to be. She deserves more than I can give her.





Chapter Twenty-three


Ava


To say that things are falling apart isn’t exactly true. In order for things to fall apart, things first have to be together, and the more I think about it, I don’t think I ever really had things together.

The thought is a depressing one.

I took on this business with blind optimism and a business degree, ignoring all the red flags in favor of looking out for my employees. And where did it get me? In the throes of a legal dispute with next to no money to guide me out.

Sitting at my desk at the factory feels like sitting at mission control for a space launch and slowly realizing there is no fuel in the rocket. I’m not sure if there’s any possible way I can get us back to Earth without crashing.

My stomach twists with nerves and I take a deep breath. What I need is a massage.

I read through the court summons for what feels like the thousandth time. It all feels more like an episode of some legal show than my actual life. With the new (correct) engine installed and quadruple checked by the contractor I hired on, the usual sounds of the warehouse have resumed—the low buzz of chatter coupled with the whir of the machinery.

Everything is back to nearly normal for my staff, minus Mark. Word can get around quick in the factory, though. I wonder if any of them know that Mark is suing, if they have any idea what kind of hot water the company is in.

There’s a knock on my office door and two imposing men in black suits waltz in, briefcases gripped tightly in their fists. It’s awfully rude of them to walk right into my office without letting me answer the door, but the taller of the two men extends one hand across my desk before I have a chance to question their manners. Hesitantly, I stand up and reach my right hand out to meet his.

“Ava Saunders, I presume?” His hand completely swallows mine, more of a power play than a handshake.

“Yes...and you are?”

“Mr. Chase Roland, CEO of Roland Enterprises. This is my colleague. Perhaps you’re familiar with our work, we have a factory nearby.” Each of them settles into a chair across from my desk, despite the fact that I haven't offered either of them a seat. I hurry back to my desk to shuffle together all the legal papers I had spread out, sliding them into a drawer for later attention. Whoever these men are, my current legal situation is none of their business.

“I can’t say I’ve ever heard of you,” I say curtly, which is an obvious blow to Mr. Roland. He wrinkles his forehead, then quickly straightens out his shoulders, regaining his bearings on the conversation.