Fear.
Reed holds the car door open. “Thank you, Ivy. Lincoln, you’ve got two minutes.” With that, he walks to the driver’s side, the door closing like a gavel.
I kiss Ivy goodbye. “Be safe.”
She pokes my ribs, the adorable wrinkle on her nose calling out to me. “Don’t worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
“Of that, I have no doubt. But do it anyway. For me.”
She’s beautiful when she blushes. One thing is certain: I need to keep her in my life. “Go. I don’t want to annoy your brother any more than I already have.”
Directly ignoring Reed’s two-minute deadline, I wait until Ivy is safely away before I return to the car. In protest, I refuse to say a word the entire drive back to the house, spending the time in a state of barely contained rage.
Reed and I have always been different. He’s a thinker, I’m a doer. He likes work, I like fun.
My brother has never understood that I won’t wait. For anything. He needs graphs, research, to tell him how to feel, when to act. He’s never understood any explanation I’ve given him because they aren’t led by numbers.
None of my decisions have ever made sense on paper. So he tuned me out and called me selfish.
He was right. For a while. I didn’t see it until it was too late, but what hurt was that he was so busy being worried about the family— sounding every bit like Deacon that I could see his hand puppeteering Reed’s mouth— that he never asked me how I felt.
It was always blame, blame, blame. Keep Lincoln contained, keep him in line. I’d hoped we’d grown out of it, but clearly, I was wrong.
The house hasn’t changed since I last visited. A modest two-story Victorian with a warm red finish on the outside and an open floor plan. When we arrive, I tear into the living room ahead of him. “Are you going to explain that bullshit you just pulled?”
Reed folds his gangly body into an armchair, crossing one leg over the other. He’s lost the jacket but is still holding himself like this is a business meeting. “Sure. You can start by telling me why you thought you could use family property for a joyride without permission.”
Fucking permission? “Since when have I needed your permission to do anything?”
“Of course. What was I thinking? You merely swan about, doing whatever the fuck you want, with no care for the consequences.”
“Boys, please. Can we not do this right now?” Mum says.
I turn away from Reed to shove the anger down.
“At least explain the whole cloak and dagger act, Reed,” Darcy says.
“Someone attempted to access the trust account last night. Security notified me while you were gone. They didn’t get in, but we’re reviewing our current security measures.” He looks at me, and I know what’s coming before it leaves his mouth. “If you needed money, you could have just asked.”
Darcy is out of her seat first. “Reed!”
“You bastard,” I spit out, voice low. “How dare you?”
“Reed, you don’t really think your brother had anything to do with this, do you?” Mum asks.
He hasn’t taken his eyes off me since we entered the room. “Didn’t you?”
“No, you fucking asshole. I make my own money. I don’t want any of yours.”
His shoulders sag, and it’s just so fuckinghimto be relieved after he accuses me of stealing. “What about Ivy?” he asks.
My teeth grind together. “What about her?”
“How well do you know her, anyway? Do you even know that Ivy is her middle name?”
I don’t even blink. “Of course I do,” I bluff, because what does it matter? It’s still her name. “She could choose a different name each day of the week, and I wouldn’t care. What is this really about? Are you seriously implying she’s only after my money? That’s insulting, even for you.”
“I’m not accusing her?—”
