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This property was bought as a gift for her when the engagement contract was being drawn up a few years back. Then was promptly abandoned by Dad when it all fell through. My brother, Alex, who took over the family business after Dad finally resigned last year, either doesn’t remember or care about the property. Either way, it’s a win-win for me. I love it out here surrounded by nature, and more importantly, not people. Specifically, people who make me do their dirty work.
I always come here to clean up after working for the Morattis, before going to my downtown apartment. The garage doors slide up as I approach then expertly maneuver the truck beside the SUV I drive around town.
I get out of the truck and make my way inside the house. It’s a bungalow – a four bedder. I go straight to the master bedroom and use the ensuite for a quick shower. I stuff my clothes into the laundry basket, all too ready to leave the events of the day behind me. I check the time after I dress and realize it’s almost three PM.
I text Lisa to let her know I’m not coming back in today. Then I check my work email for any urgent business I need to attend to or complaints from my overlord brother and demanding boss number two. I get lost in that for the next few hours, until the hungry rumble of my stomach makes me aware of the passage of time.
I stretch as I get to my feet and saunter back to the bedroom to change into a fresh gray suit before making my way to the garage. It’s just past six, but it’s that wonderfully depressing time of year where it’s almost as dark as night already. I sigh, turning on the radio and switching it to the weather station. I have a strong feeling that a storm is coming, and sure enough,the radio personality confirms it, warning residents of a strong hail storm expected in a few hours.
I drive first to Liquid Elixir, my little sister’s bar on Main Street. The bar is open, but there are only a few patrons, for now anyway; the crowd usually trickles in later in the night, especially with the weather forecast.
“I’m hungry, Andie, feed me.” I announce to Andrea, leaning against the bar in front of her. She glares at me, her blue eyes – just a little lighter than mine – heating up. She hates it when I call her that, but her anger only fuels my enjoyment so I always make sure to call her by the nickname I gave her when we were teenagers.
“Oh, look, it’s Ezzie,” she deadpans in return, and I grin.
“You can call me that, sweet little sister, you know I love nicknames. They’re endearing.” I add with a wink. Sure, the name is God-awful, but I refuse to give her the satisfaction of acknowledging it. I pray she doesn’t try to use it again.
She seems to accept her failure at riling me. “The liquid Elixir is a bar, and I know you’re aware we don’t serve food here, Mr. Beaufort, so get on out of here if you’re that hungry. I can offer you a liquid diet only, but I know you’re trying to cut back…” She trails off at the mention of my heavy drinking, which I have promised Alex and Dad I would reign in.
“Your apartment is upstairs, and I know you must have food up there,” I remind her.
Andrea bares her teeth at me. “You know I’m staying with Alex right now, so bite my ass, Ezra,” she growls, and I chuckle. That’s right. There was a heavy storm a couple of days ago, causing her shingles to fly off, so she has to stay with our big brother till the repairs are done.
“Whatever. I’m out of here.” I didn’t come here for food, anyway. Whenever I get called to Providence to complete yet another heinous job for Massimo, coming here is a balm to mysoul. It reminds me that I’m not justLa Fiamma, the flame that everyone fears. I’m just Ezra, Andrea’s annoying big brother. To put it quite simply, she grounds me. Not that I would ever let her become aware of that fact. God no. I live for our banter; I can’t have her knowing as much, or it would take all the fun away.
“You’re really going?” she calls out after me, “I mean there’s a half-eaten sandwich I can share with you. I would never let a stray dog go hungry,” she adds, and I chuckle again, knowing she actually means that.
She’s tough as nails because she has to be, but growing up our house was like a zoo, filled with one injured animal or the other she just had to rescue. Even though she’s a Beaufort through and through, Andrea swore off the family business as soon as she could get out of the house and started this bar a couple years back. She pours her heart and soul into the place, and the locals love it. It’s quaint and cozy, and she makes a mean martini. I’m proud of her; another fact she doesn’t get the pleasure of knowing. Not yet.
I make use of the back door, so I come out at the side of the building, close to the stairs leading up to Andrea’s apartment. Outside the bar, the air has gotten decidedly colder and my bones ache. I can’t tell if I’m shivering or if it’s a case of jitters, signaling me that I’m craving a hit of nicotine to rush through my system.
I lean my back against the iron gate at the base of the staircase and take out a pack of cigarettes from my pocket. I place one at the corner of my mouth, anticipation overwhelming my senses. Fuck, I’m such an addict. I grab my lighter and fiddle with the lid a couple times, contemplating how I’m ever going to give up this far too satisfying habit. I flick it on; the soft whoosh of the flame lighting up is soothing to watch. It’s almost enough to distract me from the need filling my veins. Almost.
I try not to imagine the drugging pleasure I’d get from the first draw of the cigarette into my mouth. I can almost taste it. Discipline, Ezra.You’re above your addiction. My brother’s words, but they’re effective enough. I flick the lighter on and off, on and off, almost getting hypnotized by the pretty dancing orange flames.
My ears prick when footsteps approach my quiet corner, causing my senses to hone in on them, my shoulders tensing. But I don’t stop flicking the lighter. Whoever it is, I know I can handle them. Hell, the whole of Brattleboro is in the palm of my family’s hand. Always has been.
I let out a quiet breath when I see it’s just Autumn, my sister’s newly-rescued puppy, and my brother’s out-of-character addiction. He can’t seem to go a day without checking in on her. My lips tilt up at the thought of my ultra-controlled brother succumbing to something as deplorable as an addiction.
We finally have something to bond over; even if I’ve never been addicted to a woman, how much different can that obsession be than the need for a cigarette between my lips and that first pull into my lungs, soothing the day’s worries…God I’m hopeless. My smile drops, concern taking the forefront of my emotions upon seeing tears streaming down her face.
I’m immediately on guard and glance around wondering what or who made her cry. Alex wouldn’t like this. Someone’s head will roll if he catches wind. Before I can say anything, she stops walking, then stumbles a few steps back, letting out an ear splitting shriek, her eyes clenched shut.
I raise a brow at her, “You good?”
CHAPTER 2
EZRA
Her eyes snap open at my voice, and she visibly relaxes. “Ezra!” I frown at her as she runs a shaky hand down the front of her dress. “Oh, my God, you scared me.”
“So I gather. Sorry.” I give her a charming smile, which I cut short when I see her red eyes. She was definitely crying. She sniffles gently, and her warm brown eyes quickly take me in. She lingers on the cigarette in my mouth with a small frown.
“You smoke?”
I raise a brow, not expecting her to call me out. “You cry?” I toss back. Her face goes red with embarrassment and she spins away from me, giving me her back as she pats her face dry.
She turns back to me with a relatively dry face, “I didn’t know you smoked.”
