But Gabe shrugs. "You've always been willing to do anything to get what you want, Ash." He looks at me, making eye contact. "Something I admire about you, honestly."
I huff. "You admire that I lack morals?"
Gabe's head tilts. "You don't lack morals. They bend, sure. But everyone's do. If you're beating yourself up about it, you should stop."
I drop my head. I'm not sure I could stop if I wanted to.
"Have you talked to her?"
"No. She’s better off without me.” I release a heavy breath, nausea swirling. “Being with me… being a part of this family… it’s only going to hurt her, and I don’t want that for her.”
He nods, well aware of what our father did to her. What could have happened.
"Did you love her?" Gabe's question feels like a bullet slicing through my chest.
Did I love her?
I want to say no, deny the obvious. That it was nothing more than a deal. An arrangement that was always meant to end.
Because I don't love. Ican't.
But that's a fucking lie.
"It's hard to love in a family like ours, isn't it?" Gabe says casually when I don't answer, as if he just asked me the weather. "Here's my take." He swallows the rest of his drink and pivots his body so he's facing me, staring me down as he says the next words. "We're fucked up. All of us. They did that. Mom and dad. They made us feel like we're not worthy of being loved or that we need to put on a whole fucking performance in order to earn it. But the truth is, you don't need to earn shit. And if in this fucked-up world, you found someone who loves you for who you are, not the fancy suits, the penthouse, the money in your bank account. For just you. You should run toward that. Fuck everything else. Fuck them. And fuck this company."
My heart pounds powerfully as I take in what he’s saying.
I feel like I'm drowning. Failing in all areas of my life.
Before her, I was a fortress. Emotionless. I was organized and at the top of my game.
And now? Thoughts race through my head, and each one elicits an ache in my chest or a twitch in my fingers. These feelings that I had locked up neatly are all loose, running every direction and taking over my being. She did this to me. She unraveled my carefully crafted person and now I'm left with the fallout.
"Are you just saying that so you can have the empire?" I try to play it off as a joke, but there's a part of me that's serious. It would be a good way to eliminate the competition. But I don't need to be eliminated; I've already done that to myself.
Gabe gives me a small, pity-filled smiled. "No."
I open my mouth to tell him that I think I hate this empire anyway, but I don’t get the change.
"Asher fucking Caine."
The voice cuts through the noise of the club like a blade. I look up to see Kacey storming toward our table. Her purple ombre hair is wild, and her eyes are blazing with fury.
My stomach drops.
"Kacey." I stand, some misguided notion of politeness kicking in. "I?—"
"Sit the fuck down." She points a manicured finger at my chest. "We need to talk."
Gabe half-rises. "Maybe we should?—"
"And you can shut up too, Paul Bunyan. This is between me and the emotional terrorist here."
Gabe's eyebrows shoot up, but he settles back into his seat with his lips ticking up into a smirk. Smart man.
Kacey plants her hands on the table and leans forward, her voice carrying despite the music. "Do you have any idea what you did to her?"
My throat constricts. "Kacey, I don't think—" She doesn’t let me finish telling her that this isn’t the place for this conversation.
