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“That’s a lie. He started a fight with me. Pushed me up against a fucking wall?—”
“Why?”
Brantleigh pressed his lips together and looked away.
“Right. Because you were acting like a drunken idiot and mouthing off about me to a reporter. Were you trying to get back at me? Or hoping he’d pay you for the story? Or trying to make me angry?” I shrugged. “Either way, I’m sorry.”
He looked at me suspiciously. “You’re sorry?”
“Yep. I’ve let you down. I’ve gone around cleaning up your messes and resenting you for it when it was never my job to do those things. If I’d let you take responsibility for yourself when you were younger, maybe you’d have figured stuff out when the stakes were still low. But this is where we are, so this is where it stops.”
“What the fuck does that mean?” he demanded.
“It means I agree with the plan your mom laid out. But I’m still going to text you all the time to let you know I’m thinking of you, and I’ll visit you more than you’d probably prefer. I’ll give you advice when you ask for it, and I will always answer when you call. I won’t be paying your debts or making excuses for you.” I took a breath. “It means no one will be happier when you figure things out than I will.”
“Yeah, sure. I’ll be poor and alone in Mom’s guest house. Pure fucking bliss. Thanks for nothing,” he spat. But I could see the fear in his eyes and the sinking knowledge that this time, Thalia and I were on the same page and would stand firm.
“If you decide to talk to a reporter again,” I warned, pushing to my feet, “consider the consequences first. It won’t change my mind, and I will get my lawyers involved.”
“Fine. Great. Are we done now? I’m going back to the retreat for the night.” He ran a hand over his face. “As soon as this headache eases up a little.”
“I’ll have McGee?—”
“No.” Brant raised his chin stubbornly. “I have a car.”
I nodded, “Okay. I’ll call you in a couple days. And Brant?” I paused with my hand on the doorknob. “I love you.”
“Yeah,” he muttered without meeting my eyes. “I know.”
Deciding that was the best possible outcome I could expect under the circumstances, I closed the door behind me and headed down to dinner.
Though Patricia’s guests were just as lively and the food was as plentiful as the night before, Reagan’s absence ached like a sore tooth, and I kept darting glances at the place where he should have been.
I took out my phone and texted under the table.
Me: You make it to Madison okay? I’m sorry I didn’t know that was happening.
By the time dinner was over, I still hadn’t received a reply, so I tried again.
Me: Please respond and let me know you landed safely.
Reagan: I landed safely. Thank you.
I stared at the screen. I could almost hear the words in Reagan’s polite, distant voice, damn it all.
I thanked Patricia and Trent for the meal and rushed upstairs as quickly as I could after dinner so I could call him, but he didn’t answer.
Me: I wanted to talk to you about what happened today. Please call me back.
Reagan: Can’t. I’m exhausted and half-asleep. I need to be up at six for the event.
Me: Get some rest. I’ll check in with you tomorrow.
My finger hovered over a never-used heart emoji, but before I allowed myself to go there, I quickly sent the message without it.
Sleep eluded me that night, and I was still awake at midnight when Thalia texted that Brant was safely back at the retreat and would be flying home to California in the morning. As soon as the sun came up, I rose and packed my bags so I could depart, too. Despite Reagan’s prickliness, or maybe because of it, I was still determined to get back to the city as quickly as possible so I’d be there when he returned from Madison. All I needed to do was thank my hosts before hitting the road, and fortunately, I knew Trent and Patricia were early risers.
But when I got to the kitchen, I was shocked to find JT was already there.
