“It’s the question of the hour, isn’t it?” Jace asked.
“Yes.”
“I left because I was wrong.”
“About what?”
“You,” Jace answered quickly. “All of it.”
That was the answer Callahan had been afraid of, and the worry he’d relayed to Sebastian on more than one occasion. Jace hadn’t been around people like them—people like Rhys—before. It wasn’t a welcoming environment. Though today, Callahan had realized for the first time, it wasn’t welcoming for him either.
He’d grown up not wanting the obligations and the expectations that had been forced upon him, but he’d never seen a way out. Sebastian hadn’t either, but whereas Callahan had continued to play along and pretend, Sebastian bucked against the norms their names had required of them.
Callahan should have seen it from the beginning, with the poorly thought-out marriage to Daniella, and now the impending divorce. Sebastian had been lashing out in the only ways he thought he could. And the whole time, Callahan had done nothing. He’d taken the job, taken the company, taken the inheritance, taken the burden, the misery.
“Sebastian and Daniella are getting a divorce,” he said.
“And you’re allowing it?” Jace scoffed, and Callahan was unable to hide his grimace, but thankful Jace still wasn’t looking at him.
“I said some unfair things.”
“Some.” Jace turned back toward him.
“I get it now,” he said.
“Do you?”
“It’s all bullshit.”
Jace angled up a brow.
“They put my name on a building that I paid for and I wasn’t even there for it,” he explained. “I’m a cutout, a stand-in. There’s going to be someone else with a name and with money to take my place.”
“However will you manage?” Jace’s words were thick with sarcasm.
“Rhys can fill the role. For Sebastian and myself. For whomever else. He thirsts for the things that make me ill.”
“This is lovely and all, but it doesn’t mean much.” Jace stood up, one of his knees cracking. He shook it out and paced to the window, folding his arms across his chest and giving Callahan his back. “It doesn’t change who we are. Who we aren’t.”
The last part of his words came so quietly, Callahan barely heard it, but the despair made him ache, and he forced himself off the couch. He closed the space between them, coming to stop behind Jace.
“You told me I could see you after the weekend,” he said.
“And you’re seeing me.”
“It’s still the weekend.”
Jace turned, his brows pulled together. He looked down at Callahan, eyes scanning his face. Moments that felt like lifetimes passed, and Jace’s expression softened, but his body remained hard and fixed.
“You look like you’re about to fall asleep on your feet,” Jace said.
In answer, Callahan swayed to the side, throwing a leg out to catch himself from falling.
“You didn’t even change clothes.” Jace reached out and plucked at Callahan’s waistcoat.
“I needed to see you.” He blinked, and his eyes remained closed.
“You need to lie down.” Jace paused. “Come on.”
