Page 58 of Sterling Fight

Clay’s eyes are kind. His face lined with age, reminding me just how long and hard he has worked to save the sinking ship of our parents’ dream and turn it into a legacy for all of us.

With my head bowed, attempting to focus on my laptop and projections for the third quarter which begins in July, I don’t look up at my brother. His official title is Chief Executive Officer and Manager, which essentially makes him my boss, but I don’t give a shit.

“What’s going on?” His tone turns more serious when I don’t respond, and he helps himself to a spare office chair on wheels that has no purpose in this office. However, the addition of a desk pad calendar and a plant near the window shows someone has been working in here.

Clay parks himself on the opposite side of the desk, leans forward and taps his fingers to the surface. “Judd. Talk to me.” He pauses a beat. “Are you hiding out here?”

I quickly glance at my brother then look away, as if the spread sheet on the screen holds my interest when I’ve been staring at it for twenty minutes without reading a single number.

The same thing is happening in my home office.

“I’m not hiding out. I just can’t seem to concentrate at home.”

With Genie in another room, her presence haunts me in the most tempting way. I want to be near her. I want to talk to her. I want to hear her laughter.

And I don’t want to get into a discussion with Clay. He has always been good at reading me. Staring a little too long. Digging a little too deep. Out of us older three Sylver siblings, he’s the jovial one. The one with a joke, a smile, or a laugh. I long to be that easygoing when I know for a fact his life hasn’t been easy in the least.

“I see you,” Clay states, reminding me he’s watching out for me. I am not alone.

I hadn’t needed looking after like Knox, Ford, Sebastian, and Vale had when they were younger. I was more independent and aloof, trying to keep a low profile and be invisible to our father. Clay hadn’t always been present when altercations with Dad happened. When physical fights occurred with either Knox or Sebastian. Or insulting words were tossed at Ford and me. Still, Clay didn’t miss how bad things had gotten before I left for college. I’ll always be grateful that he took me in for a few weeks before I left for Tennessee.

“I’m not hiding,” I snap, a little too aggressively.

Clay is taken aback, and I brace my elbows on the desk, pressing my fingertips against my closed eyes.

“Fucking Genie,” I mutter with more desperation than bite.

Clay chuckles. “You’re fucking Genie? Well, that doesn’t sound so bad.”

“I’m not fucking Genie.” I drop my arms to the desktop. “I’m fucking up with her.” I must be doing something wrong because there’s this wall between us and I can’t climb over it. I just want her to curl up in my lap like she did the night I explained about prom. I want to hold her to my chest and breathe her in, and I feel like a fucking creep.

I’ve been turned on since seeing her again and nothing I do relieves the pressure. Despite jacking off in the shower like a randy teen, I’m hard as a stone even after the relief.

“Well,” Clay clears his throat, fighting another round of laughter. “If you were fucking her, that would be okay. She is your fiancée.”

“She’s not,” I mumble.

Clay’s brows arch. “Excuse me.”

I hang my head and tuck my hands behind it, squeezing the back of my neck. I suck at lying. And I quickly glance back up at my brother. “She’s not my fiancée.”

“But—”

“I attended that fucking garden party like you asked.”

Clay twists his mouth, and I instantly feel bad. He so rarely asks me for anything, and now that he has a sweet family of his own, he deserves time off to be with them. He deserves them. I am so happy for my brother that he’s found someone like Mavis, and her son, Dutton, to teach him how to slow down and enjoy the simpler things in life.

I’m envious.

And I attended that party for Genie.

“Anyway, there was a little bit of a misunderstanding. Genie wanted a date. I said I was her fiancé. Heather saw me holding Mom’s ring . . .” The rest is history.

“Did you ask Genie to marry you?”

“No.” That question never crossed my lips, and I hate myself a little more.

“But . . . you’re introducing her as your fiancée.” Clay’s voice is all question.