He averts his gaze, bored with the topic already. “Yeah, what a shame.” He rises from the chair and yawns. “Well, Trent, this has been a real treat seeing you again but I’ve got a lunch meeting that can’t be rescheduled. Grab one of my cards over there on the desk and we’ll make plans to catch up for real.”
I ignore the command to take one of his cards. I know where to find him.
Liam begins to automatically offer me a handshake and then remembers why I refused the first time. He stuffs his hand in his pocket instead.
The observation from Liam’s wife is correct. We share many of the same features. We’re both black-haired, square-jawed, and dark-eyed like our father. Liam appears to have grown soft in some important places, though. Back when I was sixteen, he was capable of overpowering me with ease. Hell, he worked me over the night before I was arrested. He would provoke me deliberately with taunts about my mother, knowing fully well that was the quickest way to blow my fuse.
“That gold digging bitch is waving at you from hell, kid.”
Naturally, I flew at him. He knocked me to the floor, kicked my ribs and pounded a fist into my face. He wouldn’t be able to do any of that now. Somehow, I wish he’d try. I wouldn’t need much of an excuse to cripple him.
“I’ll be seeing you,” I say, more of a threat than he can guess.
Liam’s lips bend into a creepy smile and he nods. “Definitely.”
Now that I’ve done what I came here to do, I just want to escape. Seeing Liam again has rattled me more than I thought it would. Every scrap of my willpower was used up when I stopped myself from seizing him by his crisp white shirt, slamming his body into the nearest wall and demanding to know the thing that’s haunted me for eight long years.
WHY????
I’m his only brother and I was a kid. I understand that he never forgave our dad for divorcing his mother and starting a new family but he could have gotten me out of the way without going that far.
There’s only one answer why.
He did what he did because he’s a sadistic bastard who enjoys putting people through terrible shit.
Liam Cassini deserves far worse than financial ruin. It’s anyone’s guess who else he’s hurt or plans to hurt.
Whitney calls my name and I hear her heels rapidly clicking on the floor as she rushes over. I keep walking with grim, purposeful strides until I’m back to my truck and then I waste no time getting out of there.
But instead of driving straight back to town, I choose a detour over the gravelly road that winds up Rosebriar Hill. Sometimes flimsy road barricades would be set up to discourage trespassing but whoever owns the land must have given up because the narrow road up the hill is all clear.
Right now, the pine trees are the only greenery. In the summer it’s a different story and the hill is a thick screen of leaves and flowers. There’s still one lone sign advertising The Rosebriar Resort and it’s just a shingle hanging by one nail. The buildings are a sorrier sight than they were the last time I was up here. The roof of the main recreation center has caved in and the scattered cabins give the location a real horror-movie-in-the-woods vibe. The sunken amphitheater is still intact and I take a seat at the edge. Down in the center is a big smudge mark from the bonfires we used to set all the time. I asked Danny if the kids still come up here and he didn’t know.
Perhaps Gretchen would know. From what I hear, she’s visited Lake Stuart over the years far more often than her brother.
Thinking about Gretchen Aaronson has become a problem. That girl just fires up my blood in an inexplicable way. Sure, she’s sexy as hell, but so what? The world has no shortage of hot women.
No, there’s something else about her that gets me going, that makes me forget she’s Danny’s little sister and should be off limits by all reasonable standards.
Maybe because she knew me long before I was banished or maybe because she’s never been on a mission to impress me.
She still isn’t.
We shared a moment when she was being completely sincere and honest. In that moment a hidden piece of me woke right the fuck up and screamed YES!
I claimed her mouth. I put my hands on her. And she was into it. Really into it. She might have given me everything right there in the cold by the light of the moon.
I’m the one who stopped.
I left her standing there and wouldn’t look back when she called my name. I knew if I turned around then nothing would keep me from carrying her into the house and taking her in filthy ways that would blow her mind.
Honestly, I don’t know what Gretchen’s been up to all these years, if she’s had no lovers or twenty. And I don’t care. I could easily get consumed with the idea of corrupting her until she can’t catch her breath.
Which is exactly why I find myself sitting out here at the edge of an abandoned amphitheater with a hard dick.
The sound of a crash coming from the nearest cabin puts me on alert. The noise could be from an animal or it could be squatters. I’m not looking for a confrontation either way, so I stand up and hike back to my truck with my eyes wide open.
My schedule is clear for the rest of the day.
I know exactly where I’m going next. And Danny isn’t the only member of the Aaronson family I’m hoping to see when I get there.
5
Gretchen
“What are you writing?” Mara asks as she climbs into my lap.
“Just a letter.” I set my pen down on the kitchen table and wrap my arms around her squirmy little body.
Even without different hairstyles, I’ve never had any difficulty telling the twins apart. They always possessed very distinct personalities and mannerisms from the time they were tiny.
“To who?” she asks and then giggles when I tickle her.
“A very nice lady named Abigail Fisher. Your mommy used to write to her too.”
When I sat down, I just meant to dash off a quick note, thanking Abigail for the flowers and for the college fund she has set up for the girls. But once I started writing I just kept going. I’ve filled three sheets, front and back, of loose-leaf paper. I’ve written about growing up with Jules. I’ve written about what a wonderful mother she was. I’ve admitted that I can’t get used to the reality of a world without my big sister.
After all that writing my hand is cramped but releasing the words has also made me feel lighter. Letter writing is too cathartic to be a lost art. I hope there is someone willing to read the letter to Abigail if her eyes are not up to the task. She’s always been good to us and I think she’ll like hearing about Jules.
“Can we go to the castle?” Caitlin asks. She has appeared with a small bag full of tiny baby dolls. I know she’s referring to the tent in the carriage house.
“Your Uncle Danny is staying out there,” I remind her.
“Is he home right now?”
“I don’t know,” I admit.
Danny found a gym in town that he likes and when he’s not running miles up and down the boardwalk he’s there sweating through hard core weight training.
He hasn’t said much but I know his mind is on the upcoming spring training season. This year might be his best shot. I can’t tell him not to take it. Jules wouldn’t want that either.