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10. Love and Logic
Cash
Something dangerous stirs my blood. Rage toward the guy I found kissing Jules. Possessive anger toward her for searing that image into my head. Underneath the anger, my heart is shredding, and I don’t like it.
I’d have to be blind to miss the plea in her eyes. The silent offer of explanation. Despite only meeting her two months ago, I know her. So I know she’s beating herself up right now for what I saw. I know that she’s conflicted, caught between her feelings for me and the asshole who suddenly decided to fight for her.
I enter the lobby of my building, nodding toward security on my way to the private elevator. This is the last fucking place I want to be right now, but I don’t feel like getting a hotel room or crashing on my brother’s couch again, and Jules is obviously…
Busy.
The thought of what they might be doing wrecks me, and I’m tempted to turn around and storm her place. I’d toss that guy out on his ass, except I don’t want to do that to her.
She needs closure. She needs to move on from him before there can be an us.
The elevator doors open, and I drop the flowers and food onto a table and wander further into the darkness. As I stall in front of the wall of windows in the great room, I can’t help but wonder if I’m just a rebound for Jules. The possibility is a jolt to my gut, a slam to the heart. At the center of my being, I don’t believe it’s true. I refuse to believe it’s true.
We connect in a way I’ve never experienced with anyone. That has to count for something.
The penthouse is silent and still, which is weird since it wasn’t much different with Monica here. All the lights are off, and I’m not inclined to turn one on. By way of illumination from the city lights, I take in the disarray of our home.
Even in the darkness, I note the evidence of the authorities. Yellow tape, disrupted furniture, fine powder from dusting for prints.
The bloodstain where Lydia was found.
With a shudder, I move into the kitchen and grab a bottle of whiskey before pouring three generous fingers. This night calls for a drink. Maybe two or three. I toss back the first, pour another, then make my way back into the great room where I sink into a chair to sit and stew and drink alone. I don’t know how long I sit here. Long enough for it to start raining. Long enough for my brother to show up.
Not bothering to be quiet about his arrival, he strides into the place as if he owns it. He’s so much my carbon copy that security probably didn’t even stop him on the way in, and that takes my mind right back to that photo of Monica screwing around in our bed with someone else.
Anyone going over video footage could have mistaken Kaden for me, just like the authorities did.
“I wasn’t sure I’d find you here,” he says, breaking into my dark thoughts.
“Forensics finished up this afternoon. Got the all-clear to come back.”
“Has there been any news yet?”
“Not from the police. The private investigator I hired discovered that Monica paid Hirsch a large sum of money about three months ago.”
“Seriously?”
Several long moments pass as I study my brother, searching for any hint that he’s hiding something. “Did you ever meet Lydia Hirsch?”
He shakes his head. “No, never.” His forehead creases. “Do you think this Hirsch woman threatened Monica in some way?”
“I’m not sure. Whatever she got caught up in, it’s not good.”
“Jesus,” he mutters. “How are you holding up?”
Propping my elbows on my knees, I look up at his towering form in the darkness. “Whiskey happens to be my best friend right now.” I sound pathetic. Probably look more so, but I can’t muster the energy to care. The last forty-eight hours are catching up to me. I take another long sip of the amber-colored alcohol.
“I got a visit from two detectives today.” He settles into the chair next to me, content as I am to have this chat in the dark.
“Are they considering you a suspect?”
“I don’t think so. Surveillance footage proved I never came up here to the penthouse that day.” He glances around the space, taking in the mess. “You should’ve stayed clear of this place until after the cleaners come through.”
“That was the plan. I was supposed to be with Jules tonight.”
