It was going to be a big hit to Austin, and it killed me that there wasn’t a single thing I could do to make it better. I wished I could go back in time to stop it. Hell, if I could do that, I’d go back and never call Reed in the first place. I’d never involve any of them. I’d keep them all safe, even if it meant the end of my life.
Somehow— I wasn’t sure how, but I promised I’d find a way— I was going to make Austin’s life better. I was going to rebuild his house and help him keep the memories alive in it. Past and present ones.
I felt the pressure of that weighted promise bearing down on me. But strangely, I didn’t feel suffocated by it.
Taking in a cleansing breath, I moved in to help put the groceries away. I had no idea where stuff went, so I mostly took things out and lined them up neatly on the counter.
“I brought you guys some clothes and things,” Reed told me.
“Thanks,” I said, feeling choked up. “I’ll pay you back when this is all over.”
He froze, his hand grabbing something inside a bag. When it became apparent he wanted me to look at him, I shifted my gaze from the package of coffee beans in my hand to Reed’s face. His brow was already arched, but when I met his eyes, he somehow managed to hike it up higher.
Reed was a billionaire, a fact that I forgot most of the time. The last thing he needed was my money. And perhaps it was ridiculous of me to even offer to pay him back, but that wasn’t even the point.
I couldn’t stop the sharp laugh that slipped out. Then he was chuckling along with me.
“I’m still going to pay you back,” I said after we’d calmed down.
“And I’m going to look at you like you’ve lost your mind when you try to.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I told him, keeping my tone low. I didn’t have a problem being open or emotional, but I was worried I was close to breaking, and I didn’t know what would set me over the edge.
“Same here,” he told me, moving in close. I gave in, turning toward him and accepting the hug he wrapped me up in. It didn’t last long, but it was long enough to finally get it. Reed was my friend. My family. And I would be there for him if he ever needed me.
“We’re going to go help Jameson check the perimeter,” Remy said, setting down the last of the bags. “Give you a little time to talk.”
They were gone before I had a chance to say anything.
“Sit,” Reed said as he pointedly looked in the direction of the stools tucked under the island. I shook my head at him, laughing as I pulled one out and perched my ass on it.
He handed me a bottled drink that was green. The healthy kind of green, not the neon green that should never be put in the body. I instantly cracked it open and guzzled half of the thick spinach-and-banana-tasting drink down.
“Austin’s place?” he asked.
“Probably a total loss,” I told him, feeling like shit because it was my fault.
The corners of Reed’s mouth turned down into a frown. He was probably already thinking of ways he could help fix the situation, even knowing he could never make it right again. While I sat there, thinking it was on me, and knowing the exact same thing. There was no way to fix this. Even if we were to rebuild, it would never be the same for him. All the good memories he held onto were in that home. It was a place that his father couldn’t touch, and I had taken that from him.
“It’s okay,” Reed said, but we both knew it wasn’t. Even if he didn’t know as much as I did about Austin, it was obvious thatif Austin kept something that was tied to his family, it must have been extremely important to him. “How is he doing?”
“They got him pretty bad. He slept for half the ride here. I’m worried he got hit on the head too hard, but I couldn’t keep him awake. He assured me he’s fine.” I shrugged, not sure what else I could say.
“I’ll have Dune check him out when he comes back in.”
I nodded my appreciation.
“Tell me what you’ve figured out,” I said, setting the drink down.
Reed began to fill me in while he pulled out pots and pans, talking over his shoulder as he quickly washed them in the huge porcelain sink before drying them and setting them on the gas stovetop.
When he was done, ending by saying that they hadn’t found much of use, he looked at me with sympathetic eyes.
“Let’s talk about what we do have,” I said, trying to put us on the right track.
“Lipton has an apartment outside of Washington, D.C. and a family home in Charlotte. I’m assuming he travels back and forth quite a bit,” he said grabbing a bamboo chopping board and a big chef’s knife.
“Yeah,” I said with a nod. He pulled out a couple of onions and maintained eye contact as he set them on the board. “He mostly works at the main office. He doesn’t like the Charlotte office because he says everyone there is too focused on climbing the ladder.” I rolled my eyes. He sent me a smile that said he wanted to do the same.
