Page 57 of Trust Fund Baby

“You know, for someone who works in an office all week, you spend an awful lot of time making things with your hands,” I said, brushing sawdust off the nearest stool before perching on it.

He didn’t look up. “And for someone who lives in the city, you’ve been showing up here a lot these past couple of weeks.”

I smirked. “What? I need a special permit to visit my own brother now?”

“Not saying that,” he murmured, shoving the plane forward again. “Just noticing.”

Noticing was Winn’s polite way of saying, I’m suspicious and I’m going to dig until I find out what’s going on.

I didn’t blame Winn for finding my recurring presence here alarming. Normally, I only ever visited Greenwich when I was forced to be here for a family meal. But after the disastrous gallery event that Sebastian had decided to crash, I felt like I needed to escape the city. The only problem was that escaping to Connecticut didn’t offer much of a reprieve because memories of Sebastian and me filled almost every inch of this place. And yet I kept coming back.

I leaned my elbow on the workbench. “So … how’s work?”

His mouth twitched, just barely. “Is that small talk, or are you really interested?”

“A little of both,” I said. “Just wanted to check in on you, with how often you’re staying at the office so late.”

Winn’s plane slowed, the blade catching on the wood with a faint rasp. “I stay late when I need to. Grandpa has off-loaded most of his clients onto me, and they’re extremely high maintenance.”

“Mmm,” I responded, trying to appear nonchalant. “Are you still making your assistant stay late with you?”

That earned me a side-eye. “She doesn’t stay late because I make her. She stays because she wants to finish the work.”

“Uh-huh,” I said, drawing out the syllables. “And is that the only reason she stays late?”

He set the plane down, the muscles in his jaw tightening just enough to tell me I’d hit a nerve. “We’re not doing this.”

“What? I’m just asking if she’s cute.”

“You’re not subtle, Rox.”

“I’m not trying to be.”

Winn grabbed a sanding block and started smoothing the edge of the board he was working on, each stroke a little more forceful than necessary. “Why are you really here? Because clearly someone pissed you off, and now it’s becoming my problem.”

I shrugged, eyes scanning the neat chaos of his workshop—chisels lined in a perfect row, clamps hanging like medals on the wall, a stack of unfinished projects in the corner. It was so perfectly Winchester. He made more sense in this workshop than he ever did inside our family’s law firm. “Maybe I missed my favorite brother.”

“I’m your only brother.”

“Exactly.”

“So tell your favorite brother the truth.”

I sighed, picking at a curl of wood he’d chiseled off and left on the workbench. “Fine. The city’s … loud right now.”

“Loud how?”

I hesitated, not sure I wanted to divulge the details to him.

Winn, who was almost five years older, saw mine and Sebastian’s escapades from elementary school through high school. Even though he’d just finished college and was about to start law school when Sebastian and I had our falling out, he’d seen me rebuild my life in New York City, devastated but following my dreams. He had made his decision about Sebastian, and he was done with him from that point onward. The last thing I wanted was to hear him lecture me about letting him back in my life. Because hearing “I told you so” wasn’t exactly at the top of my list today.

Winn’s eyes narrowed just enough to tell me he wasn’t buying my vagueness.

“Loud how?” he repeated, slower this time, like he was coaxing a confession out of a guilty witness. This was a glimpse of Attorney King, not my beloved older brother.

I busied myself brushing sawdust off my jeans. “Just … people. Crowds. The usual city chaos.”

He leaned an elbow on the workbench, staring at me like I was the warped board in need of straightening. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with a certain dark-haired corporate snake, would it?”