Within These Walls (Within These Walls #1)(28)

For the longest time, the bench had made me angry.

I remembered thinking, How dare someone meddle in my pain and invade the sanctity of my personal hell.

But the longer the bench had stood there, the less and less, I’d felt anything. As the days had passed, I’d let the numbness of my life take over until nothing was left but my grief and memories.

In the hallway where I’d screamed and begged for Megan’s heart, I sat down on the cool wooden bench situated across from the room where I’d lost my soul mate, and my thoughts began to drift back to Lailah.

I’d laughed today, felt emotions beyond despair and loss today.

With Lailah, I’d felt human for the first time in years.

Is friendship bringing these emotions to the surface again? Or is it more?

Leaning forward, I rested my head on my hands. I looked across the way at the closed door to the room that had once been Megan’s.

It was so long ago, but if I closed my eyes, I could still see her. I remembered the way her hair had smelled in the morning after she just showered and the sound of her laugh when I told a joke. She was supposed to be my forever, but I’d lost her.

That was the end. My story was done.

Months after she’d died and I’d taken my position at the hospital, I’d come home late one night. I’d felt so tired that I had basically been sleepwalking to my doorstep where I’d found someone sitting.

“Who the hell are you?” My voice sounded hoarse and strained from the lack of sleep.

I’d pulled two shifts in a row, trying to make more cash to build up my savings account so that I could purchase a car.

“Nice to see you, too, brother,” Roman said, rising from his spot at the foot of my dusty door. He brushed the dirt off his tailored suit pants, no doubt cursing under his breath about the damage it had done.

Only my brother would travel in Armani.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, rubbing my eyes and blinking several times. Maybe if I squeezed them tight enough, he’d disappear.

“Attempting to bring you to your senses,” he answered, looking down at my dark uniform in disgust.

“Ah…well, let’s do that inside, shall we?”

I pushed past him to unlock the door. He followed me in. I set my keys on the kitchen counter and turned in time to watch him assess my pocket-sized apartment.

His eyes wandered over the empty white walls and lack of furniture. The card table and folding chairs basically said it all. I was poor and barely making it.

He probably figured he could swoop in and write an extra-large check, and then we’d both be back in New York by morning.

Too bad that wasn’t happening.

“So, are you done with this ridiculousness yet?” He took a seat on one of the plastic folding chairs.

“You think I’m ridiculous? After everything I’ve been through in the last few months, you think I’m ridiculous, Roman?”

“I think you were handed a bad hand, Jude—the worst f**king one imaginable, but the way you’re handling it is shit. She’s gone and you’ve giving up, man. You’re twenty-two years old, and you’ve just rolled over and cashed out.”

I lunged forward, grabbing the collar of his crisp white shirt. “She was my f**king fiancée, and she died!” I roared.

I pulled tight on the fabric, and it bunched together in my fists. His hands went up, the universal white flag of surrender, and I pushed him back into the chair.

“I don’t expect you to understand that since you seem to have a new flavor every other week, but she was it for me. You don’t get more than one of those in a lifetime.”

He studied me for a moment and then adjusted his shirt and jacket. Looking at Roman was like looking into a mirror. We had the same pale green eyes and dark blond hair, but that was where our similarities ended. Roman was like our father, cold and calculating. He never let anyone in unless the person was useful for his own personal gain. I was my mother’s child, meaning I actually loved someone other than myself.

There could only be one reason for him flying all the way out here. He needed me.

“Why are you really here, Roman?” I took a step back to lean against the counter.

He looked up at me with an emotionless gleam in his eyes. “We need you, Jude. No more playing around, no more games. The family needs you.”

I pushed off the counter and paced around the room. “Unbelievable. I should have known that this wasn’t about me. It’s always about you, isn’t it, Roman? Not performing well enough for Daddy? Need a little help? Well, f**k off. Handle it yourself.”

“Listen, you little twit, your family needs you. Mother needs you,” he said, knowing he’d just hit a nerve. “Doesn’t she mean anything to you?”

“Of course she does!” I yelled. “But this isn’t about her. It’s about you and Dad. You need me to come pull you out of whatever mess you’ve gotten yourself into. Well, forget it. You wanted complete control of the company? You have it.” I took several long strides and pulled the door wide open. “I think you and my front door are well acquainted. Have a nice flight home.”

His hard gaze met mine as he walked a few steps forward and paused. “If you do this—if you walk away, you understand that there’s no going back? Father won’t forgive you. You’ll be cut off, forgotten, and disowned forever.”