“It’s Seth,” my brother grunted. “Open the damn door.”
“Seth? Here?”
“Yes, here. What do you think I’m a hallucination or some shit? Open the door.”
I set down my bottle on the coffee table and headed over, opening for my brother. Seth looked and smelled as if he’d just gotten off a plane. His hair was mussed, his shirt creased, and his temper foul.
“What are you doing here?” I asked. “Phones not working in Chicago? Or did Mortimer deign to release you for an evening?”
Seth entered and slammed the door. “This place smells like the inside of a fucking brewery. And it looks like you haven’t cleaned in weeks.”
“You’d be right on that count,” I said. “I’ve been too busy. Setting up the new business.”
“And wallowing.”
“I’m not wallowing.” Man, lies were bitter. “I’m working.”
Seth walked over to the sofa and grimaced at the blankets and empty takeout cartons. “Seriously, brother, you need to clean the fuck up. Shower, eat something other than Chinese and greasy pizza, drink some water. And go see her.”
That was a sucker punch to the stomach. “Why are you here?” I asked, picking up my beer. “And do you want one of these?”
“I’ll pass. I’m only here for one night, and I don’t want to take a flight back to Chicago half-drunk.”
“I said one, not twenty,” I replied. “So, are you going to tell me what’s up? Did Mortimer do something?”
“He’s always doing something,” Seth said. “But he’s not why I’m here.”
I drank some beer and sat down on my crowded sofa. “Ow, fuck!” I reached back and removed a chopstick from underneath me. “Almost got an impromptu prostate exam.”
“Funny.” My brother didn’t laugh. He folded his arms and glared at me.
“Looks like I’m not the only one who’s got a stick up the ass.” I flicked the chopstick away. “You didn’t come all the way here to stare at me, did you? I could’ve sent a picture.”
“You need to go see Hazel,” Seth said.
I shut my eyes and clenched my teeth. “That is none of your fucking business.”
“Damien, she needs your help, and you’re being too much of a dick to see that you need her too.” Seth took a breath. “She didn’t do what you think she did. Mortimer’s lying, and you should know that he would twist things to make it seem like she betrayed you. You should know that you can’t trust his word by now.”
Don’t listen.
“But you believed him anyway, and you kicked her out of your life, and it wasn’t for any other reason but the fact that you were scared of her and how she made you feel.”
“You’re wasting your time,” I said. “I’ve made my decision.”
“Then she’s too good for you,” Seth replied.
I opened my eyes and met his gaze. “Yeah, that’s right.”
“Get over yourself, dickhead.” Seth walked from the window back to the sofa, holding my gaze. “Look, this isn’t even about you anymore. Hazel needs help, and she won’t accept it from me, so you’d better be there for her, all right?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Her dad is dying.”
The pleasant buzz I’d developed over the course of the day vanished, and I was stone-cold sober again. “What?”
“The doctors say he’s got less than a month left to live, and she can’t afford anything. His hospital bills, to pay for her own food, for the cat, for fucking anything. Yet here you sit, like some fucking—”
I was off the sofa and holding my brother by the lapels—no idea how I got there. “Where is she?”
“In Chicago,” he said. “At Elmhurst.”
That was all I needed to know. All the other bullshit, the truth about what had happened, none of it mattered if she was in this type of pain. Heartbreak was one thing, but losing a parent you loved? Being alone during it? Being broke and completely hopeless?
That hadn’t been my intention. I’d thought… well, that my father had paid her.
“I’m an idiot,” I said.
“Yeah.” Seth nodded. “Now go be an idiot with her.”
36
Damien
I barely saw Chicago. The city streets, buildings, lights, and people blurred from the back of the cab I’d called from the airport, and my stomach sat in my throat. The first time I’d been nervous in, well, fuck, I couldn’t remember since when.
Heading over to the hospital would be my last resort rather than my first—chances were, she wouldn’t be there when I was, that or I wouldn’t be allowed in to see her or her father, since I wasn’t family.
Which left me with one option.
Her house.
Fuck, there were two outcomes here. She would either let me help her, or she’d reject me completely. And I would have to go back to New York, to pining after her, to thinking about her every second.
Once the fugue had cleared, and I’d cleaned myself up, the gravity of the situation had struck home. I’d been living like a hermit, and not because I’d lost my inheritance or Mortimer’s approval. It was because she was no longer in my life.
How the hell had it taken me this long to realize it?
My phone trilled in my pocket. “Hello?” I answered.
“Damien.” Mortimer’s displeased tone came down the line. “I warned you not to start a business, didn’t I?”
“I don’t have time for this.”
“You’ve been making calls you shouldn’t have,” Mortimer said. “Did you really think I wouldn’t find out about your little side projects? Did you really think that—”
I hung up on him. I didn’t have the energy for the melodrama, and, strangely, I didn’t give a shit which of my contacts had called him up and told him about my business plans. All that mattered was Hazel, now, and what she needed.
Money was easy. Love was hard.
The cab pulled up outside Hazel’s tiny home, and I paid the guy, leaped out of it, and bolted up the front steps. Storm clouds boiled above, the occasional flash of chain lightning arcing over my
