Page 90 of Last Resort

And yet . . . we come from two different worlds. Two different lives.

Her and her talk of expiration dates.

Is that what I want? For us to have fun and then expire?

Isn’t that all I’ve ever known?

Then why do I want there to be an us?

Is that why I’m out here trying to clear my head, to figure it all out, before facing Sutton again?

Ledger shifts his feet beside me, pulling me from my thoughts and back to him and why he’s here.

“You’re checking up on me,” I finally say.

“Nope.”

“Then you were just casually grilling Sutton over dinner to see if I’ve been pulling my weight and doing my part, right?”

“Callah—”

“Admit it. You’re here to rub my face in whatever I’ve screwed up, but you’re on-site and you’re not finding anything wrong. So, that leaves you at a loss over what to do.”

“I haven’t said a word,” he says.

“You didn’t have to.” I spit the words out, animosity eating me whole. “Oh, and by the way, should you stumble upon her, Gia conveniently happens to be here tonight. Somewhere.”

His sigh is heavy. “And just like that you . . .”

“I what? I warned you she’s here so you don’t see her and accuse me of doing things I didn’t do just like the last fucking time? Not that it’s any of your goddamn business either way.”

“Accuse?” He snorts.

“Yes. Accuse. You and Ford are so fucking hardheaded, so willing to believe the worst of me. You already had your minds made up before you even talked to me.”

“Callahan. Can we just let this go? Move on?”

“No. We can’t. You know why we can’t? Because not once did you two ask me where I was that night.”

I glance over to my brother. I used to look up to him in so many ways, and I hate that this rift between us has stripped some of that respect away. Our dad can no longer come between us, no more favoritism can eat away at our brotherly bond, but I don’t know if it can be repaired.

“Just let it go, Cal.”

“Fuck no.” I can no longer suppress the anger burning within me. I shove up out of my seat in the sand and move to rein in that anger. “It matters because you accused me of the unforgivable. Of putting a piece of ass before our family. Of putting my needs before the good of the company. You—”

“Jesus Christ, Callahan. Cut the bullshit. You had in the past. You most likely will in the future. Why should we believe any different?”

“Ask me where I was,” I shout. “Ask me.”

Ledger sighs and holds his hands out seeming to say, tell me.

“I was sitting in Dad’s room all goddamn night. I was in that gray leather chair; you know the one?” Our dad used to love that chair. He’d turn it to face toward the wall of windows in his penthouse in the sky and stare at the city he loved. He’d lose hours upon hours there contemplating world domination he used to say. The thought brings a smile to my lips. “I turned it to face his bed so I could watch him. So I could make sure his chest would keep rising and falling with each breath. So in case it didn’t, I could . . . I don’t know.”

Save him. Make sure he wasn’t alone. I don’t fucking know, but I knew I had to be there.

“Aren’t you the pious son,” he says.

I’m on him in a second. My hands fisted in the collar of his shirt, my face inches from his as I shout, “I’m telling the truth.”