I wasn’t even sure which option would suck more. Both of them sounded equally horrific in their own ways.
Reading Avery was difficult these days. He was a stranger, a man who was as foreign to me as Max, but with a ton more baggage that I felt personally responsible for on some level.
It wasn’t fair to carry this deep-seated guilt whenAverywas the one who left, who chose to cut off contact with me once he got comfortable in Switzerland. His promises had turned empty the moment he’d realized he was better off living his fancy, privileged life with no room for someone like me in it anymore.
I’d ultimately served my purpose. I’d given him what he needed while he was here. Him coming back and reconnecting was nothing more than utilizing his resources. After all, he was a businessman at heart.
What better way to get a job done than use an old contact?
One he trusted.
So, again.
Why was I here?
When I finally made it up the long drive and parked my truck out front of the walkway leading up to those familiar filigree doors, I left my keys in the ignition and just sat there. There was still time to turn around and leave, make up some half assed excuse as to why I couldn’t come inside to talk.
Would he be mad?
Probably.
Did I care?
Unfortunately.
That was what happened when your traitorous heart refused to see the situation for what it was—a rehashing of things that were better left in the past.
Except that didn’t stop me from slipping the keys out of the ignition and shoving my door open. Or listening to the sounds of my own two feet crunching through the graveled drive that led up to the main walkway.
Fuck me and my weaknesses.
If I were a stronger man, I would’ve stopped all of this to begin with. Refused him service the second he stepped into my mechanic shop and sent him elsewhere, ridding myself of the problem at the start.
Or better yet, gotten a hold over my own impulses, and called him a damn rideshare to come pick him up instead of taking him back to my place because I couldn’t bear to part with him at the time. Not getting myself lulled into a false sense of security with him falling asleep on top of me and acting like some kind of fucked up version of a security blanket.
For far too much of my life, I’d relied on him to give me comfort. Even after he’d gone, his memories were the only thing that I’d held onto during my darkest times. When they’d begun to fade, I thought my feelings would soon follow but clearly that had been a pipedream in itself.
When my foot hit the first step, the doors to his family mansion parted and there he was, standing in between them waiting for me. The déjà vu hit like a freight train. Both timelines—then and now—collided together, creating a dizzying feel as I climbed up the steps one by one.
His expression was carefully blank, betraying nothing while he tracked me slowly. This all felt like a cat and mouse game, a push and pull that I didn’t remember signing up for, let alone agreeing to.
And yet, I still climbed those fucking stairs until I was at eye level with him, a hair’s breadth between us. Those remarkable crystal blue eyes of his bored into me, right down to my very soul. Reading me right down to my bones.
A shiver raced up my spine.
I loved the attention. Hated what it did to me.
He said nothing as he stepped back, waving an arm to let me through. The hesitation in my step was momentous, barely even noticeable, but still somehow had Avery’s carefully guarded expression morphing into a frown.
This place was so familiar that it was painful. The same marbled floors that shone brilliantly under the warm light from the massive crystalline chandelier. The exceptionally tasteful decor that were the only remnants left of Avery’s mother. Hazel, who was storming down the hallway leading from the kitchen galley, a towel thrown over her shoulder.
Oh fuck.
“Brandon Anders!” I winced at the stern tone. “Is that you? You better have a good excuse as to why it’s been sixteen years since you’ve come around here!”
Before anything could be uttered, I was swept up into a tight hug that had me bending down in order to accommodate for Hazel’s shorter frame. The life was practically squeezed out of me, sending a wheeze to be coughed up.
“First Avery,” she was saying, “And now you. I can’t believe this. Both of you all grown up and still no calls and no letters.”
