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“Ash?”
“No, it’s me.”
Disappointment went through me at the sound of my brother’s voice. “Sorry, what’s up?” I said.
“You on your way?” Chase asked, his voice higher than normal. It was a sign that he was definitely nervous about this morning. If I hadn’t been worried about Ash, I would have smiled at the fact that my little brother was still fangirling over Bomber Flynn. I’d been certain Chase was going to pass out the first time we’d met Bomber to give him our proposal. As it was, Chase had barely said a word to the man, leaving me to do the heavy lifting.
Not that I’d minded, since that was what I was good at.
“Yeah, I’ll be there in a few,” I said as I waved down a cab.
“Don’t be late,” Chase insisted. “Gonna be hard to convince Bomber to sign the papers if I can’t talk.”
I did chuckle then. “You’ll be fine. See you in a bit.”
I hung up the phone and automatically checked to see if Ash had tried to call me or had sent a text.
But there was still nothing.
“Fuck,” I muttered as I put my phone away and got into the cab that pulled up to the curb. I was at the office within a matter of minutes. Tomás was waiting for me, coffee in hand. He took my coat before handing me a folder.
“Everything here?” I asked as I flipped the folder open to scan the contents. I only half-listened as Tomás explained which documents were in the folder and that he’d gotten a call that Bomber was on his way. I headed to the conference room where Chase was already waiting.
“Hey,” I said as I leaned in to hug him and pat his back.
“Hey,” he murmured as he settled back in his seat. Tomás eased a fruit tray onto the table along with several plates. He moved quickly and efficiently as he finished setting up the room, and I shot him a nod of thanks as he left. Once he was gone, I focused my attention on Chase, even as worry for Ash continued to dig at me.
“We’ve got this,” I reminded Chase as I settled my hand on his back.
He nodded, his expression pinched, and I felt a twinge of guilt. At twenty-four years old, my brother should have been navigating his way through his first job for a company where he could learn the ropes in a cushy but safe position. But instead, he’d been tossed into the deep end of the corporate world as co-founder of our business.
I’d been the one to convince Chase to start VP Associates after he’d graduated college instead of pursuing law school like his father had wanted. It had been a big move for Chase, choosing me over my stepfather. Law school had been a sure thing. Starting a PR firm with his half-brother, against his father’s wishes, in a city that was saturated with dozens of companies all vying for the same clients, had been a huge gamble.
Especially since Chase had used a good chunk of the money our mother had left him for law school to start our business instead.
I’d tried to get Chase to let me cover the entire financial liability of funding our business, but he’d been adamant that we were equal partners from day one. He’d insisted on paying his fair share of the costs associated with trying to get a fledgling business off the ground.
I, myself, had the benefit of having a larger trust fund to lean on if needed, since my paternal grandmother had left me a sizable amount of money after she’d passed… enough that working was something I could do to pass the time, not earn a paycheck. Chase had also inherited some money, but his had come from our mother after she’d died two years earlier. The money that hadn’t been set aside for Chase to use for law school had been put into a trust until he turned thirty— a trust his father controlled.
Although Chase and I had different fathers, we were the poster children for dysfunctional relationships with the men who’d raised us. I, at least, no longer spoke to my father. Chase couldn’t say the same.
Not that my younger brother would have cut ties with the man, anyway.
It was a fight Chase and I’d had so many times, I’d lost count, finally accepting it might never happen.
Which meant I was left to deal with my brother’s insecurities about building a business that would not only survive in our cutthroat industry, but that his father couldn’t shove down his throat for the rest of his life if it happened to fail.
“Yeah,” Chase said as he took deep breaths. “We’ve got this.”
“He’s ready to sign, Chase, and you know why?” I asked. When Chase looked at me, I repeated more fervently, “Because we got this.” .
