“I knew all that coddling your mother did—”
“Don’t mention her. Don’t speak her name. Don’t even think about her. I don’t even use your last name so I don’t have to be reminded we’re related.” Spencer slammed his hand on the table. “You didn’t deserve a beautiful person like her.”
As he gazed steadily at his father, he noticed the web of lines across his forehead and around his eyes. Was it odd that he felt empty? Even the burning anger he’d lived with for years had faded away, leaving only hollowness in its place.
“It’s been fun, but I have places to go and people to see. Enjoy the accommodations.”
He rose to his feet, and the police officer in the room with them knocked on the door for the guard outside. With nothing more to say, he walked out, and by sheer strength of will managed to hold his head up. Win was on the phone, with Forrest and several other men around him, so Spencer didn’t think of bothering him to say good-bye. The quicker he left, the better—he wanted to go home, curl up in his bed, and think about nothing.
Instead he saw Wolf, who, when their eyes met, jumped up from his seat to meet him. Spencer’s heart kicked, then locked tight.
Not today, Satan.
He walked past Wolf and out the door to some busy street in Brooklyn. He pulled out his phone and swiped at the screen, but his hand shook so badly, it didn’t work, and in those intervening moments, Wolf joined him on the sidewalk.
“Why didn’t you wait for me?”
He didn’t answer, instead jabbing at the screen over and over in a futile attempt to unlock his phone so he could call a car.
“Spence. I-I know. It’s okay.”
Okay?No. It wasn’t. It wouldn’t ever be okay.
No words would come out, and afraid he’d start bawling, he blinked rapidly, watching a car pull up in front of them.
“Come on.” Wolf touched his shoulder, and he flinched. “I called us a car.”
Spencer didn’t know what was worse—seeing his father in prison after so many years and having it be no different than the day they’d last seen each other, or Wolf being kind, thoughtful, and sweet.
The car crossed the Brooklyn Bridge, passing the people walking or bike-riding. Wolf sat silent. Watchful. Spencer dragged his gaze from the view of the sparkling river to meet his eyes.
“Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me. It’s what friends do for each other. Isn’t that what you told me once?” A soft smile played on Wolf’s lips, and Spencer trembled, remembering.
Milan.
“Yeah. But we haven’t exactly been listening to each other since then.”
Wolf sent him a sharp glance but merely nodded.
The car stopped in front of Wolf’s apartment. Spencer had no idea if it was to drop Wolf off and continue on to his apartment or…
“Come upstairs with me?” Wolf’s ridiculously long lashes hid his eyes. “I don’t think you should be alone.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to make a quip and keep it light and breezy between them, have it sit on the surface like it always did. Today he couldn’t.
“Are you sure?”
Wolf held out his hand, and Spencer reached out to take it. Strong and warm, it held him tightly and didn’t let go until they were inside Wolf’s apartment. Wolf set his leather portfolio on a table, and they stood facing each other.
“I didn’t get much of a tour the other day when I was here.” Unaccountably nervous, he wandered around, touching a table here, a chair there.
Wolf appeared at his side with a drink. “Here. Otherwise it’s Scotch, and I know how much you dislike it.” He held out the tumbler of colorless liquid over ice.
He didn’t mind Scotch that much. He still remembered how good it had tasted on Wolf’s tongue. He took the glass and gulped down half of it. Wolf watched him but said nothing. Spencer walked away, and Wolf trailed after him, stopping in front of the long sectional couch in the living room.
“Sit.”
