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I heard her sigh deeply. “I’m gonna kill your brother.”

I looked at her in surprise. Gone were her wide eyes; now they were furious, a match lit within them ready to set the world ablaze.

“So it isn’t true?” I couldn’t help but feel hope that this had all been a stupid misunderstanding.

“No,” she croaked and dropped her gaze. She pulled her legs up into the chair, wrapped her arms around them, and became smaller right in front of me. “It’s true.”

Fuck.

I collapsed back into the couch. “What happened?” My voice was just above a whisper.

“Why do you care?” she asked, more bite in her tone. “Why are you even here? It’s been four years since that all happened. It’s ancient history now.”

I stood and began to pace in her living room. “Is that why you hate me? Why you’ve always hated me?”

She rolled her eyes. “You don’t affect me that much. I don’t like you because you roll through life without a care in the world or an understanding of how your actions affect those around you. That stupid kiss means nothing now, but it is a reminder of who you truly are.”

“You really just think I’m an absolute douchebag, don’t you?” I asked dejectedly.

She shrugged. “You haven’t done anything to prove to me otherwise.”

“Then why work this damned case with me at all?” I threw my arms out to the side as I stood, confused by it all.

“Because I wanted to give you another chance, Lexington, before I fired you,” she exploded and stood, her finger pointing at me as she punctuated her point. “I couldn’t do it before because I would have been a shitty boss. But even now, you’re always late, you’re always goofing off, you don’t take any of it seriously. Not the journal, not the work, not me.”

She was toe-to-toe with me now. She may have been half a foot shorter than me, but her presence was larger than life. Maybe that’s why we never got along. She knew who she was, without question. I was still following in my brother’s footsteps because I couldn’t make my own choices.

“Then fire me, Goldie, if I’m so damned bad at my job.”

She rolled her eyes. “Did you hear me say once you’re bad at your job? That’s why you still have a job at all. You’re good, really good. You have the same instinct Jackie does and the writing skills Oliver does. The problem is your fucking attitude.”

I stared at her with wide eyes. I don’t think anyone had complimented me so truly before. She was the last I expected to do it.

My silence didn’t deter her; if anything, it egged her on, all her anger and frustrations over the years spilling out. “Do you know how infuriating it is to watch you have life handed to you on a silver platter and witness you squander it? Because that’s what you’re doing. We all know you have this job because of your brother, and instead of taking the absolute luck and running with it, you’re throwing it away for nothing!”

My hackles rose and I interrupted her. “Nothing? You think I’m late, I’m distracted for nothing? I’m late because my son doesn’t want me to leave him in the mornings. I’m distracted because I spend all day, every day trying to be a good father, all while you’re breathing down my neck telling me I’m not good enough!”

“I have never once said you’re not good enough. You don’t try enough,” she argued. “Oliver has three kids and manages to do it all, so don’t use River as an excuse.”

“Well, I’m not Oliver!” I yelled.

She stepped back in surprise at my volume. My chest heaved in anger, frustration… and guilt. Maybe I had been using River as an excuse. I didn’t stop to think about it; I didn’t want to. I wanted to be angry. It was better than dealing with the reality that maybe I was the cause of all my failures.

“Did you really come here just to pick a fight with me? Scream at me?” Goldie asked, the anger in her tone still evident.

“No, okay? No… I…” I took a steadying breath, and then another. It did nothing to quench the anger within me. “I thought maybe it was this damned kiss that made you so angry with me.”

“So, what? You came here to absolve yourself of the guilt of forgetting?” she asked, exasperated.

“I—” I stopped, because she was right.

She knew it, too. She pointed to her door, her tone stern. “You need to leave, Lexington.”

“You’re really kicking me out?” I asked incredulously.

Her eyes flared. “You come pounding on my door in the middle of the night to appease yourself of the guilt of forgetting when you kissed me. You’re here to make yourself feel better while I am forced to relive one of the most humiliating moments of my life? Yes. I’m kicking you out of my house. Now leave,” she seethed.

“Kissing me was humiliating?” I asked, ignoring her command.