“Right. How could I understand all the machinations of the rich and famous? You do what you have to do. I’ll pray you find some ugly old woman who’ll love Charlotte as much as I do.” Not that he would. Not that there was any chance. She moved to walk around him, but he blocked the only way out of the kitchen.
“Delaney, I have feelings for?—”
“Your feelings are irrelevant, obviously.”
“No, they’re…” He paused, breathing heavily. “I don’t want to lose you. Please, just think about coming back.”
“I don’t belong here, Mr. Aylett. And you’ve lost my trust. Now, get out of my way.”
His shoulders drooped, and he stepped back.
Heart pounding, she passed him and hurried down the hall and up the stairs to her room. She closed the door and turned the lock.
Only then did she allow her tears to fall.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Water wasn’t strong enough to wash away this kind of regret.
Noah stared into his glass, wishing it contained something that could dull the sharp edges of his thoughts. But he’d never been a drinker, not even when life had given him every reason to start.
The kitchen was too quiet. Upstairs, Delaney was probably gathering her things, preparing to walk out of their lives forever. He’d done that. He’d pushed away the one person who’d brought light back into this house, who’d somehow managed to crack through Charlotte’s walls and earn her trust.
And for what? A merger that might still fall apart? But generations of Ayletts had built this family’s legacy. He couldn’t let it slip away on his watch.
How did Delaney not understand that?
Approaching footsteps pulled him from his thoughts. Not the light tread of the woman whose presence he craved, but heavier, a harbinger.
Jasper appeared in the doorway, looking irritatingly at ease in a faded T-shirt and plaid pajama pants. His hair was slightly damp, his skin was a burnished bronze, proof he’d spent the last six months in the sun, on beaches or yacht decks, a drink in one hand, the other wrapped around the waist of some woman whose name he probably didn’t even know.
While Noah dealt with his mess.
But there was something different about Jasper—wrinkles around his eyes that Noah hadn’t noticed at the police station. A heaviness in his demeanor that wasn’t like him.
Holding an empty lowball glass, he leaned a shoulder against the doorjamb. “You’ve done a great job with Charlotte. She looks…healthy.”
“Amazing what happens when a kid feels loved.”
His jaw tightened. “I saved your life tonight. Maybe cut me a little slack.”
Noah should, probably. But he was tired and grieving the loss of Delaney. He needed all his energy to focus on his own self-loathing. “What do you want, Jaz?”
Jasper moved past him, headed for the refrigerator. “I don’t think Charlotte had any idea what happened tonight. I didn’t explain it to her, obviously, just told her it was grown-up stuff and she could trust you to take care of her.”
“Which I will. Just like I’ve been doing.”
Jasper glared at him for a long moment. Then he pulled out a bottle of orange juice and drank straight from it.
“Seriously? Use a glass.”
Jasper raised an eyebrow but complied, reaching for the glass he’d set on the counter. He filled it with juice. “Sorry, didn’t realize I was still twelve…and you were still Mom.”
The casual mention of their mother sent a fresh wave of anger through Noah. “What are you doing here? You show up out of nowhere, save the day, then put Charlotte to bed as if youcare. But what happens tomorrow, huh? When you find some party that’s more important than your daughter. I know what happens. You hop on the first flight and disappear until spring.”
Jasper stared at him, a thousand emotions crossing his features, emotions Noah didn’t recognize on his wastrel brother’s face.
“I might be a useless piece of garbage?—”
