It’s the other stuff that’s not sitting right.
That’s what brought me here—it’s got to be. I refuse to entertain any other reason. And frankly, I only have the bandwidth to deal with one mess at a time.
My phone vibrates, making me jump, something I do far too often these days, all but expecting a text from a former hook-up that won’t leave me be.
Looking up to make sure I’m alone, I find the hallway just as deserted as a minute ago, so I pull out my cell from the pocket of my scrubs.
I roll my eyes—because, brothers—but the near miss has my posture sagging as I lean into the wall. Relief and adrenaline flood my nervous system.
Although,brothersis generous. It’s essentially just a conversation with Trace. Drake doesn’t participate, but we keep him in the chain, mostly to guilt him into semi-regular communication. Though ninety percent ends up being neutral reactions to our messages. I think Trace and I are both afraid that if we let Drake remove himself, there’d be no proof he existed at all.
The text chain with my brothers fills my screen, and my smile comes easy when I see the long thread of messages above the newest one.
Trace
Everything is set with the property. You’ll get payments through the business account to make things clean and easy, just like we talked about.
Aspen
You make it sound like we’re laundering money.
Trace
That’s not how money laundering works.
Aspen
Why do you know this?
Trace
Ozark
Right. He’s the painfully boring and predictable brother. Gym, work, raise my nephew, and his shows.
Aspen
Isn’t it eight o’clock there? That’s past your bedtime, old man. Why are you still working?
Trace
Whatever, whippersnapper. Sign the contract from the attorney that’s waiting in your inbox.
Aspen
Grumpy much?
Trace
Try raising a teenager and then talk to me about grumpy.
Aspen
I’ll pass.
Trace
And you’ll sign everything?
