Ididn’t go to the Amtrak station. In fact, I barely made it out of the building before I stopped dead on the sidewalk with my chest tight and my lungs working like I’d sprinted ten blocks. I stood there under a flickering streetlamp with Emma’s last message open on my phone.
The night air bit through my shirt, but I barely felt it over the roaring in my ears. She could be there, at the station, waiting for me, and here I was, in the iconic words of Metallica,so close, no matter how far.
Yet I couldn’t make my feet move. I couldn’t do anything except… call it off.
Me: I’m sorry. I can’t do it like this.
I swallowed hard and kept typing, my hands shaking in a way I hadn’t experienced since I was a teenager trying to tell Dad I’d crashed his car into our garage wall.
Me: Let’s meet first, see each other, and talk before we do anything like running away.
I paused, pressing the heel of my hand against my sternum like it might hold my ribs together, but still, I kept typing.
Me: I have too much riding on this and on my life in general to just run. I’m sorry.
I sent the message before I could convince myself to just go to the damn station and see if I could find her. Emma had canceled on me tonight, sure, but then she’d asked me to run away with her. I’d agreed and now there was every possibility I’d just blown up five years of whatever the fuck this was.
Nothing came from her. No reply. No jumping dots. The silence kept eating at me until it felt like there was nothing left.
“Yeah,” I muttered to myself, shoving my phone into my pocket. “You’re a real stand-up guy, Westwood.”
I didn’t remember deciding to walk to Will’s place. My feet just took over, carrying me through the city in a blur of headlights and late-night traffic until I found myself standing in front of his townhouse, my finger jamming the buzzer.
Growing up, Will and I had never been the closest. Out of all my siblings, the only one I ever really let in even a little bit had been Charlotte, our sister. But she was all the way out in Texas and I couldn’t talk to her about this anyway.
She’d cut off my balls if she found out what I’d done. Alex probably would’ve been more understanding, but he was so invested in this deal that he would have stolen my phone to cut things off with Emma himself if it looked like she might jeopardize the Hinds deal.
Besides, Will was oddly discreet. Friendly but never offering too much of himself. I’d always wondered if it was because he was a middle child, lingering in the background during conflict and soaking it all in to use later.
At least he kept his mouth shut until he’d formulated a plan. I desperately needed that right now, even if it might’ve come from a tendency to be overlooked as a child.
The door swung open less than a minute later. Will stood in front of me barefoot and wearing gray sweats with a black hoodie. His hair was a mess, like maybe he’d been running hishands through it while working, but his focus was on me now, his mouth flattening as he took me in.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked calmly.
No hello. No surprise. Just immediate diagnosis. Welcome to the way things go when you’re a Westwood.
“Can I come in?” I rasped, my voice stolen by either that kiss or the cold air—or both.
My brother stepped aside without a word, waving me into a townhouse I’d rarely visited, but it was exactly like him—warm, slightly disorganized, and lived in. He shut the door behind me and crossed his arms, waiting just a few steps inside the door.
I paced once across his living room, then turned back. “I think I screwed up.”
He cocked his head. “That’s vague, bro. Even for you.”
“I kissed Kate.”
Will blinked once. Hard and slow. “Well, that’s a surprise. You guys don’t seem to like each other very much.”
“I’m engaged to her,” I snapped.
He shrugged. “Which changes nothing. So what’s the problem, then?”
“I cheated, Will,” I said hoarsely. “When I kissed Kate, I cheated on someone else with my fiancée.”
His chin lowered, his eyes widening as he finally walked further into the room and dropped onto a couch. “Okay, now we’re getting somewhere. You’re going to have to start over, though. I didn’t even know you were seeing someone.”
“I’m not. I—” I exhaled, scrubbing my hands over my face before I tried again. “I’m notseeingher. I’m… I’ve been in an online relationship for over five years.”
