“Put five dollars in the swear jar,” I deadpan, loosening my tie.
Cast looks at me with a smirk on his lips. “You look like you got in a fist fight, and I know you can’t fight so…”
I fully pull my tie out of the knot and lean against the doorway. “What can I say? The boardroom’s a blood sport.”
“Better you than me.” He turns back to the sink, rinsing the last glass. “Long day?”
“The kind that shouldn’t exist,” I say, rolling my sleeves. “You know I hate working in corporate.”
“Yeah I know, but you know you can always quit.” Cast nods, drying his hands.
I shake my head. “That’s like asking you to step down from the cartel.”
Cast looks at me over his shoulder, quiet for a beat. “I would,” he says simply. “For you guys, I would.”
The words hang there, heavy enough to make me bite the inside of my cheek. I clear my throat.
Cast sighs, that weary sound I’ve come to recognize that says we’ve had this talk before. And we both know we’ll have it again, especially as Beaumont keeps bleeding money.
He claps his hands together. “You missed a hell of a night.”
“So I see,” I reply, glancing toward the staircase. “How’s Willow?”
He looks at me then—really looks. “She waited up for you. Tried to pretend she wasn’t worried. You know how that goes.”
A small ache blooms under my ribs. “And now?”
“In the bath,” he says, tilting his head toward the hall. “I told her you’d come home before the water went cold.”
“Thank you,” I murmur.
He shrugs. “Don’t thank me. Just go.”
I hesitate, studying him. The tension that used to live between us after I took Willow away and tried to marry her firsthas dissipated over the last eight years. He has learned to trust parts of me again, although it is not the same as it was before, and a part of me is guilty that I am the reason we are more friends than brothers now.
“It’s good to see you home,” I say matter-of-factly.. “It’s rare that we’re all in the same place.”
He smiles faintly. “Yeah, well I am learning to stand your face a little better.”
“You still get annoyed at my face after eight years?” I snort, bracing myself against the door frame.
He looks up at me for a second, the expression on his face hard and unreadable. “You have a punchable face.”
I snort, pushing off of the door frame. “Goodnight, Cast.”
“Night Vince,” Cast calls after me and I smirk because of him for the first time in years. It’s true time really does heal all wounds, but only if you let it.
I follow the sound of running water down the hall. The door to my room is ajar, a faint curl of eucalyptus drifting through. I pause at the threshold, shrugging off my jacket and tossing it over the small couch along the wall beside the door. I step inside, unhooking my watch as I go.
The bedroom glows low, the fireplace banked to a red hush. I walk deeper into the room, unfastening my cufflinks. The soft clink of metal against wood follows when I set them beside my watch on the nightstand.
I slip my phone from my pocket and leave it face down on the dresser, then nudge the bathroom door open.
Steam rolls out to meet me, warm and scented with eucalyptus. The air opens my chest. Candles pool amber light across the marble, and the mirror has surrendered completely to fog. I stop at the door, my eyes landing on Willow curled up in the bath.
She’s half-submerged in the water, hair slicked back, droplets tracing the line of her throat and sliding over her shoulders. For a moment, I just stand there, caught between wanting to move and not daring to. She looks peaceful in a way I haven’t felt in months. The pale water around her softens every edge, making her seem almost unreal.
If I weren’t carrying the fear and shame of the day like a stone in my chest, I’d tell her how beautiful she looks—how I still forget how to breathe when I see her like this. I’d touch her, kiss the curve of her neck until the world outside this room disappeared.
