AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I’m not,” I say. “I’m not on board with anything. I just want to spend time with my dad before he dies. Can we focus on that? Please?”
“You’ve always been Dad’s favorite, you know that, right?”
“If you’re trying to guilt-trip me, it’s not working.”
“I was always so jealous.” She huffs. “Who are we kidding, I still am. But it’s like you could do no wrong in his eyes.”
As the eldest living Rothwell sibling, Nicola has no doubt been held to a different standard.
My father got his mini-me in the form of Burke, who accomplished all the things that gave him ample material to brag about with his country club friends on the golf course.
But I’ve always been his wild card.
The one who went against the grain.
Still, Nic’s not wrong—everything I ever did to push him away only made us closer.
Sometimes I think it’s because I was the only one who ever told him how I felt, what I believed, what I stood for . . . when everyone else was telling him what they thought he wanted to hear.
“It’s just fucking money,” I tell her.
My grandfather once told me that when we die, all that remains is a dash on our tombstone between the day we were born and the day we took our final breath. It’s up to us to make that dash count.
While his way of leaving a lasting legacy involved donating obscene amounts of money to various hospitals, libraries, and civic centers in exchange for them chiseling his name on well-placed placards, I’d prefer to make my dash count by living it to the fullest and on my terms.
“I want to reach out to Audrina,” Nicola says.
I open my eyes, my vision blurry as I glare in her direction.
“Now why the hell would you do that?” I ask.
“I want to see how Burke reacts when he sees her. It’ll tell us everything we need to know,” she says.
Standing, I rake my hand along my jaw, conjuring the right words to say to her in this ridiculous moment that shouldn’t be happening.
“Invite her,” I say, “and I’ll never forgive you.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
BRIAR
Present Day
I wake to the buzz of my phone, my temples throbbing after a stressful and sleepless night and my head still occupied by unresolved thoughts and unanswered questions.
The caller ID reads “Restricted,” sending me shooting out of bed with a sharp gasp, convinced it’s someone calling from the hospital with bad news.
The other bed is empty, nothing but a mess of tangled white sheets. On the opposite side of the wall, the shower is running.
Clearing my throat, I tap the green button and answer the call.
“Hello?” I ask.
“Hi, yes, is this . . . Briar?” a woman’s voice asks. My heart races, sure that it’s a nurse or doctor from Boston Medical trying to reach Burke via my number since he doesn’t have his phone.
“This is she.” I can hardly hear the sound of my own voice through the whooshing heartbeat in my ears.
“This is Audrina Fairchild,” she says. “My assistant was going through my DMs yesterday, and she found yours . . .”
Oh my god.
With everything going on, I completely forgot I’d messaged her when we were in town last Saturday.
“Is this . . . legit?” she asks.
“One hundred percent,” I answer without pause. I’m not sure how long Burke’s been in the shower or how much time we have left, but if he walks out and finds me talking to his ex-fiancée, he’s going to have questions, and it’s far too early in the morning to answer them.
“I’m sorry. I get a lot of crazy DMs . . . but I heard he was engaged,” she says. “And I heard her name was Briar . . . I just . . . can you send me proof?”
The two of us have yet to take a single photo together.
I could give her a play-by-play of everything that’s happened over the past week, but Burke might hear me and wonder who the hell I’m talking to.
“I can . . . just not right now. We’re in Boston,” I say, peeling my phone from my ear. My battery is at 17 percent. “Redmond’s in the ICU at BMC. Things are a little . . . unsorted right now. Can I call you later today? Once I have more time to explain?”
“Redmond’s in the ICU? What happened?”
“We found him collapsed in the potting shed yesterday.” I keep my voice low while listening to make sure the shower’s still running. “His heart is failing. He’s stable for now, but we don’t know how much time we have.”
The other end is silent for a few beats, followed by a muffled sob.
“I’m sorry,” she eventually says. “Redmond was like a second father to me. I knew he had some health problems, but I didn’t know . . . you never think . . . no one’s ever ready for this kind of thing, you know?”
