“I’m serious, West. This is a complete one-eighty for you. I don’t understand it.”
“I already told you. I’m thinking it’s time to put the past behind us. If you’re willing, that is. We’re working together now, and it just seems stupid.”
If I thought he’d be thrilled at the prospect, I was wrong.
“Is this because you found out I was a foster kid and you feel sorry for me? Because I don’t need anyone’s pity.”
That was when I understood that Brenner still held a ton of hurt and pain from a past he’d had no control over, and I needed to be careful with my words. Joking about it wouldn’t help.
“I don’t pity you,” I said softly. “Yeah, I was shocked and surprised to find out about your past because you were always so strong and determined in everything you did. I figured you wereone of those overachievers who had parents pushing you to be the best.”
“Like yours did?”
My chest hurt. “No. My mother, as much as I loved her, was a quiet, meek woman, raised to listen and not make waves. Her wants and needs came second. She existed to please my father, and he didn’t give a damn about anyone but himself.”
“So you really don’t get along?”
I was unable to hide my sarcasm. “Pretty obvious from that loving text, huh?” I sighed. “Sorry. My father has been angry with me since I decided not to attend his alma mater and go it my own way.” Not exactly the truth. The day I confronted him about his affair was the day our relationship died, but I wasn’t ready to spew all the ugly from my guts.
“Why? You’re a huge success—valedictorian of our class,Law Review, a partnership at one of the top firms in the country.” His brow wrinkled. “How could he be mad just because you didn’t go to his school?”
How to explain? “That was only the start of our downfall. My father wanted to have me under his thumb. He’s a controlling, manipulative person who thinks only of his image. He took my action as a personal slight. His dream was to create a political dynasty—senator and eventually president. I would come up behind him in the ranks, mirroring him step by step.”
“And you don’t want that.”
The Triborough Bridge—now the RFK, but no real New Yorker called it that—loomed ahead of us as we sat in traffic. I could simply answer no and be done with it, but to hell with hiding it.
“I’d never want to be anything like Preston Lively. I hate him,” I spat out. “I hate everything he stands for, everythinghe is. He’s no father of mine. As far as I’m concerned, I’m an orphan.”
Brenner flinched, and recalling his history, I instantly regretted my words.
“Shit. I’m sorry. That was so wrong of me. I just meant—”
“I know what you meant. Some people should never have children.”
I wondered if Brenner had ever tried to locate his biological parents but decided not to push it. We’d had enough soul-baring for the day.
For the remainder of the trip, Brenner didn’t ask any more questions and remained silent. I figured I’d shocked him with my vitriol, but fuck it. If he wanted the truth, he was going to get it, warts and all.
“Who’s going to help you when you get home?” I hadn’t thought about it as we approached the city. “I’ll get you upstairs, but who’ll be there to make sure you don’t fall and hurt yourself worse?”
“I’ll be fine.”
Typical Brenner answer that didn’t tell me anything. “You’re not going to call anyone, are you? You’re a tough guy.”
“Please be quiet. I have a headache, and I just want to get home and go to bed.”
About to snap at him that of course he had a headache—he’d had a goddamn concussion—I darted a quick glance to see him wince and bite his lip, in obvious pain but too much of a prideful jerk to admit it. That painful twist in my chest tightened, and I made a decision. One I knew Brenner wouldn’t like, but I was used to his snarls and scowls by now. I exited the FDR at 72nd Street and headed toward Second Avenue.
“Where are you going?” Brenner’s brow furrowed, and his eyes narrowed. “I told you I lived in Brooklyn, by the Bridge.”
“Yep. But I live on Park, between Sixty-seventh and Sixty-eighth. Look. I know you’re going to fight me on this, but I have a two-bedroom apartment—”
“No,” Brenner cut me off.
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“And you’re being presumptuous to think I’m going to be okay with staying with you.”
