“Do what?”
“Pretend that we’re all good and what happened didn’t really happen?”
Charlie eyes me over the rim of his glass. “I was kind of hoping it might go like that.”
“Well, I’m not as forgiving as the rest of the fam.”
“Yes, I know. You’ve made that very clear during the last two years of your silence.”
“Why did you really want me to come with you this week?”
“I want to help.” He takes a sip of bourbon and grimaces. “Damn, they need to stock better shit on these birds.”
“We’ll see about that.”
“Hey,” he sets his glass down and runs a hand through his perfect hair. “I know I haven’t exactly been Mr. Reliable. I missed Grandma’s funeral. Didn’t come home for Rusty’s surgery, and I haven’t set foot on the ranch since the day you took it over, but I want to be better. I want to make things right.”
I glance at him, but I don’t say anything and let the silence stretch.
Charlie shifts, more restless now. “I used to think that if I didn’t show up, I couldn’t screw anything up. That if I stayed out of the way, kept to my own orbit, I couldn’t disappoint anyone.”
“And yet, you did anyway.”
“Yes, I know, Mr. Perfect.”
“That’s a terrible thing to say.”
“Right, we all know you’re the family favorite. I’m the family fuck-up who couldn’t hack it in the military, so I try my best now to play a soldier on TV.”
I purse my lips. I don’t want to admit that I hear the hurt in his voice.
“Anyway, lately? It’s felt … empty. I have all this shit and yet, I have nothing, really. And now,now, my agent wants me to find someone to have a fake relationship with so I can drum up more publicity.”
“That sounds fucking terrible.”
“Right. My house, my career, all the premieres and late-night interviews. Everyone knows my name, but no one knows a damn thing about me. When I think about the ranch, when I thinkabout you out there building something that means something, I realize maybe I want to be part of something real, too.”
I sit up, trying to make sense of the words coming out of his mouth. “You’re serious?”
He meets my eyes. “I want to help, Duke, and not just with a check. Let me use what I’ve got. If I can get information about Firebird in front of the right people, raise money, get support, that’s worth something, right?”
I stare at him, unsure whether I want to punch him or hug him.
He cracks a sheepish smile. “Maybe I also wanted a few days with my big brother before I start a new shoot in Italy.”
“I appreciate all that.” I shake my head and laugh despite myself. “I still think you’re an attention-seeking little shit.”
“Yeah,” he says, smiling wide. “But I’myourattention-seeking little shit.”
I sigh, feeling a yawn coming on. I’ve been up since five, had a hell of a day, and I’m too tired to keep fighting tonight. “I guess I’ll say cheers to that.”
“Cheers,” he says, leaning over and clinking my glass.
We travel the rest of the way in silence and then transfer to Charlie’s private jet that had been waiting for us at Centennial Airport. Charlie tips the staff and settles in onboard. I take my coat off and use it as a blanket. All I want to do is sleep, and I don’t open my eyes until we land at Van Nuys.
By the time we touch down, the city’s all lit up like it’s trying to outshine the stars. Neon signage glows like it’s pulsing with its own heartbeat, and every street we pass looks like it’s gearing up for something wild, even though it’s well past midnight.
I lean my head against the window as the jet taxis to a stop. It’s been years since I set foot in LA, and the second the door opens, I remember why. The air smells like exhaust and perfume. The breeze is warm, but nothing about it feels natural. Charlie’salready on his phone, rattling off a joke to someone named Lexi about bringing home a mountain man.
