by J. Saman
I realize I’ve been silent, lost in my own thoughts when I hear Kyle clear his throat. “I don’t know where I’m going. I’m just sort of driving us around,” he admits.
I clear my head away from the childhood I never had and look out the window, taking stock of where we are. Kyle went in the total opposite direction of the office.
“Sorry,” I tell him, hoping it covers much more than the fact that he was forced to drive us in a city he’s not familiar with. “Turn right up here,” I instruct, pointing to the intersection. “I can drive us, if you want to pull over.”
“No,” he says. “But I will pull over to punch in the address into your GPS.”
I don’t say anything else as he parks the car on the side of the road in morning rush hour and plays around with my GPS. I don’t care. Let him do whatever the hell he wants. In fact, if he told me he was taking me out of the city and up into the mountains for the day or down to the ocean, I’d be cool with that.
But he can’t.
Today is technically his first day, and he has an exam to study for, and Bridget is waiting, and life goes on. It just does. It doesn’t stop even when you want it to. Even when you might need it to. It just continues to spin, which means that’s what I have to do too.
“Do you want to tell me about it?” he offers once he gets us going in the right direction. “I’m a good listener, Claire, and I’d take your secrets to my grave.”
Shit. He means that. And it’s so very tempting.
Yet, at the same time, it’s not. I don’t really want to have that conversation with him. I don’t want to tell him all my dark and ugly. I like the fact that Kyle sees me the way he always has. And maybe that girl isn’t perfect. Maybe she drinks too much on occasion and goes out with too many guys, and lives life by her own rules.
But he likes that Claire. He likes the girl he knows, and I need that from him. More than he’ll ever understand, I need it. I need the way he sees me not to change.
So, I say, “That’s sweet of you, Kyle. And I appreciate it. But I’m fine. My dad has never really been my dad, and in case you missed it, we don’t see eye-to-eye on much.”
“When was the last time you saw him?” he asks, quietly, as if he’s afraid of pushing his luck with the questions. “You were surprised he knew how to find you.”
I look over at him, a small smirk quirking up my lips. “Caught that, did ya?”
He glances over at me quickly before turning back to the road. His hands at two and ten, his back straight, and I realize he’s not entirely comfortable behind the wheel. He didn’t exactly drive much in New York, so I get it.
“I’m a lawyer, Claire. I catch everything.”
“Right,” I say, making a note of that. “Well, he works for the government, so I’m guessing that’s how he knows shit I’d rather him not know. I haven’t talked to him since I graduated college a few years back. But in truth, he and I were never close, and I never saw him much.”
“If he hasn’t seen you in such a long time, How does he know you sleep around?”
I bust out laughing, a loud cackling sound that might just be a touch crazy. “Nice. Really nice.”
Kyle looks over at me, and then he gets what he said. “Shit. No!” he shakes his head back and forth. “That’s not how I meant it. Fuck.” He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “Damn it, I’m flustered here, and I don’t do flustered—except with you, apparently. I just meant, why would he think that about you? I don’t believe you’re like that. It bothered me, is all. I hated him saying that about you. I wanted to throttle him for it.”
I smile at that. “Kyle Grant, you really are one of a kind. And I mean that in the best possible way.” He’s silent, waiting me out, and I sigh. He wants answers, and for some inexplicable reason, I suddenly want to give them. “I lived in St. Louis for most of my life. I hadn’t seen my dad since I was thirteen and he finally came for a visit two weeks before I graduated high school. He came into my mom’s house like he lived there and walked in on me having sex with my boyfriend.”
I look over at Kyle, but his eyes are focused on the road, his head tilted ever so slightly in my direction, like he’s taking in every word I’m saying, and analyzing it.
“He freaked out. Phoned my mom after yelling at me for an hour and calling me every name imaginable. My mom basically said that she knew we were having sex since we’d been together for two years. Said that Morgan was a good kid, we were careful, and he loved me.”
“That doesn’t really explain things.”
I laugh, shaking my head. “The last time I saw him before today was a week before I graduated college. Which incidentally was the first time I had seen him since that time in my mom’s house. My father had been emailing me because I had gotten an offer from the DOJ to build weapons of mass destruction and I wasn’t into it. He was super pissed. Anyway, when he walked into my dorm room, he found Ryan sitting on my bed.”
“What the fuck?” Kyle snaps, his knuckles gripping the steering wheel until they turn white. “I thought nothing happened with you two.”
“Slow your roll over there, babycakes. Nothing has, or will ever, happen with Ryan. We were fully clothed, sitting on my bed doing work. My father noted that Ryan was only slightly older and didn’t buy the line about him being my boss. Whatever. My father’s a self-righteous, indignant prick, especially for someone who knocked up a girl he barely knew when he was eighteen. So yeah, he thinks I’m a slut and that I’m wasting away working for Ryan instead of the government, and he has a lot of ideas about how I should live my life.”
Kyle opens his mouth, about to ask more questions, but I hold up my hand, stopping him before this gets out of control. There are only a few more logical questions, and I don’t want Kyle to ask them, because I don’t want to lie or be evasive or whatever. “That’s as much truth as I can give for this hour on a Monday morning.”
“I can’t stand my father,” Kyle says quietly, and my head snaps over in his direction.
Ryan doesn’t speak about his father often. I know he’s an alcoholic. I know their mother is too but is more in control of it—if it’s something you can ever really have control of—than their father. Ryan called him catatonic once. And I never really pushed it because clearly, my family is no prize.
“It’s really a mutual dislike mixed with dissatisfaction.”
“Why?” I breathe out when he doesn’t elaborate.
Kyle’s eyes flicker in my direction before turning back to the road. “Because I had cancer. And that drove my father to drink. He blames me for it and refuses to stop. To even seek help. Probably because he likes it. A lot. My mother blames me for it too. And fuck that. I refuse to take responsibility for it. I was a goddamn kid with cancer. In case you haven’t noticed, Ryan and I don’t speak to them much.”
“Yeah, I did notice that. Primarily at the wedding.”
He nods his head like I get it. And I guess I do. Families are tough. Love isn’t always a given. At least, it wasn’t in my childhood and apparently not in Kyle’s either.
I stare him down, even if he can’t look back, I know he feels the weight of it. “I’m sorry you have shitty parents.” I pause here, debating whether or not to say this next bit. “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t say anything to Luke or Ryan, or anyone else for that matter.”
Kyle looks over at me, fixing me with his discerning gaze now that we’re stuck at a red light a few blocks from work. “Okay, Claire. I won’t say anything.”
It’s sort of funny the way he says that. It reminds me of the way Ryan said something similar after my mother died. Jesus, how many people are holding on tight to my secrets right now?
“Thank you.” I smile at him, a little relieved that his eyes are still clear and not clouded with pity.
A few minutes later, we pull into the garage at work. After he turns off my car, but before I can get out, he yanks me into his chest, wrapping his arms around me. Kyle doesn’t say anything; he just
holds me tight. His heart pounds in his chest against my ear, his fingers glide down my hair as his lips press into the top of my head.
It would be so easy to sink into him, into this. So very easy to allow myself to get lost for just a few minutes. To escape reality. I’m good at that. I have a lot of practice with it. But with Kyle, it’s different. He’s different. I can’t explain it, and I don’t understand it, but he is.
“I’m here for you, baby,” he says softly, and I get locked in the promise of those words. In the way he calls me baby.
But I’m not his, and I never can be. My father’s visit reminded me fully of that, so I pull back and smile. “Thanks, babycakes. You’re aces.” I kiss his cheek and get the hell out of the car, where I can breathe without his damn scent infiltrating my nose and clouding my senses.
We get into the building, and I take Kyle up to the top floor where our offices are, after showing him around a bit. The only way into the building is by scanning your badge. If you don’t have one, or someone doesn’t know you and let you in, you’re not getting in. Ryan and Luke are super crazy about security and are very cautious about social engineering.
There is no outside access for anyone.
“So, this is the place,” I say to Kyle, standing in between my desk and Ryan’s office. “You like?”
He leans into me, his hazel eyes dancing around my face before they grow serious. “I like. I’m going to be honest with you, I didn’t think I would. I expected to hate everything about this because it wasn’t New York. Because it wasn’t what I was used to. Because the idea of working for my brother is off-putting. But maybe I was wrong. Maybe being here and being with you and everyone else and starting this new life is a good thing.”
“Maybe.” I smile up at him.
“Do you want to show me my office?” Kyle asks in a tone I cannot place.
I open my mouth to answer when Luke yells out, “What’s up kids?”
Kyle and I both turn in unison to see the cocky asshole approach. He slaps Kyle’s back hard, and Kyle jabs at him with his elbow.
“Dick,” Kyle mutters, pushing Luke’s hand away. “That any way to greet your new lawyer?”
“Kyle, I’ve known you since you were in diapers.”
I snicker, but Kyle just blows it off. “Right, when was that, grandpa? You mean when I was a teenager?”
“It’s still amazing to me how much younger you are than Ryan,” Luke muses. “And how much shorter.”
“Shove it,” Kyle snaps, but now he’s smiling as I am.
You really can’t help but love Luke, even if he is a crazy bastard.
“I’m only four inches shorter, and Ryan is a freak of nature. People really shouldn’t be that tall.”
“He’s six-three,” I comment dryly, crossing my arms over my chest.
“Which is freakishly tall, I maintain. Even Luke, who is a couple of inches taller than me, is shorter than him.”
“You boys really have a thing when it comes to length,” I smirk at both of them. “Anyway, I’ve got work to do. I’ll catch ya later, Kyle.” I throw him a wink. “Later, dickwad,” I say to Luke before sauntering off, away from my desk and down the hall.
I push through the door into the restroom and go right into the stall, locking it behind me, and blowing out the breath I’ve been holding. “Shit,” I mutter to myself as I drop down onto the closed toilet seat.
That was close.
14
Kyle
* * *
I spent the entire meeting with that HR Bridget lady thinking about what happened this morning with Claire. I can’t get it out of my mind. I keep replaying that encounter with her father over and over again, dissecting everything each of them said. No matter how hard I try, I can’t figure it out. All I know is that she’s hiding something.
And it feels like a big something. The sort of something that pulls families apart. The sort of something you hide, even from those closest to you. Maybe I’m just being presumptuous and arrogant here, but I like to think I’m close with her. I like to think that I know her, even if the majority of our relationship, friendship, what have you, has been over the phone.
But I didn’t know that her mother was dead.
Last I heard, she was living in St. Louis, and they didn’t talk much. So that’s news to me. And I didn’t really know she wasn’t talking to her dad. All she ever said about him was that he has been in the Army forever and lives in DC That’s it.
I’m not exactly sure what to make of all of this. She went into a trance-like state in the car and then talked about why the asshole thinks she’s a slut. But that’s it. Nothing about their coded hate-fest this morning. Or about her mother’s illness, if that’s even what it was. And how does that relate to Claire? But even more disconcerting than that, Claire was lost in that moment and then jumped right back into her smiling, nothing-affects-me persona. It was seamless. Effortless.
And it scared me.
It also made me hurt for her.
In fact, as I sit at my new desk, in my new office, staring out the glass wall that separates me from everyone else, I can see her. She’s only two offices down. Her desk is in the main open area, which makes her visible. And that perfectly engineered smile has been plastered on her face since I came back up here this morning. Now it’s nearly the end of the day.
I should be studying.
I should be getting settled in.
But I can’t seem to take my eyes off her. She talks and laughs and goes about her day like nothing happened this morning. Maybe she’s just a hell of a lot better at compartmentalizing shit than I am, but I don’t think I’d be as outwardly cool as she is now.
“Hey,” Ryan says as he slides open the glass door to my office. “How’s it going? You getting settled in okay?”
I plaster on a smile of my own, sitting upright, and reluctantly pulling my eyes away from my brother’s beautiful assistant.
“Yeah, I’m great,” I lie. “This office is perfect.” And it is. It’s big and modern and bright. I have a huge desk that can adjust so that I can stand or sit to work. I have a bookcase filled with every legal text I could ever need for this job. I even have a big round table with four comfy looking chairs. No couch, though. I could use a couch.
Ryan blows out a breath like he was truly on edge about it. “Good. That’s good,” he says, running a hand through his jet-black hair.
It really is almost comical how different we look. Ryan looks just like our mother, and I look just like our father.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t around earlier; I had a meeting that just wouldn’t end. But I was thinking, if you’re up for it, that we could all go out tonight. You know,” he says, leaning against the glass frame of the wall, “to celebrate you being here.”
“Why are you all awkward and shit?” I laugh as he narrows his eyes.
“I don’t know,” he laughs, walking into my office and dropping his large frame into one of the chairs opposite my desk. “I guess I just really want you to be happy here, and I’m not sure you are. But maybe that takes time.”
“Dude, stop babying me. I’m not six anymore. If I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have come,” I tell him, leaning back in my chair and looking him square in the eyes. He’s not wearing his glasses today and it makes him look younger, even with that out of control beard.
“Fine. I’ll back off.” He stands again. “A few people from the office were talking about going to a place down the street. Diamond’s Pub, I think it’s called. Katie is going to meet us there. You in?”
“Yeah,” I tell him, standing up slipping into my suit coat that I’d thrown over the back of my chair. “I’m in.”
Ryan laughs at me, rolling his bright-green eyes. “You do know that you don’t have to wear a suit. I mean, this is Seattle. We’ve sort of perfected the art of business casual.”
“Yeah, but I’m a lawyer, and we dress to impress. It’s how our game is played.” I walk around my desk and slap
him on the back before we step out into the hall. “If I were a hipster and sat in front of a computer all day writing a bunch of code, then I’d wear what you’re wearing.” He’s got on black slacks that actually look expensive and a blue and black plaid shirt. No tie. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, and his shoes are his old worn black Chucks. If that doesn’t scream hipster, I don’t know what does.
Ryan tosses his heavy arm over my shoulder, a small contented smile twisting up the corner of his lips. I know that smile. Mainly because I know my brother. He’s happy I’m here. That I’m working with him. It’s what he’s wanted since I started law school. Shit, probably even before that.
“You coming, Claire Bear?” Ryan asks as we approach her desk. Her cerulean eyes pop up from her laptop and again, she’s smiling at us. I wonder if Ryan can see through it. I doubt I would be able to. Then again, maybe this isn’t an act. Maybe her shit rolls off her back, and then she’s done with it. I don’t know.
“Call me that again and I’ll tell Kate that you told me about my surprise birthday party,” she says, standing up and grabbing her bag from the small closet behind her desk.
Ryan groans, throwing his head back. “She really would kick my ass if she knew. Or maybe just withhold sex, which is infinitely worse.”
“Then maybe you should watch the pet names.” Claire winks at me, and we start walking to the elevator. “How was your first day?” she asks me, and I feel like I should have an answer other than good. But I don’t, because I didn’t do a whole lot other than obsess about her.
“Good. I’m half caught up on all of the old contracts.” That part is true, but only because Claire was gone for a couple of hours after lunch.
It’s a gorgeous evening, the sun is still shining brightly, and the air is sweet and clean. So unlike New York for this time of year. I liked New York, and yeah, I miss it. But from the limited time I’ve spent in this city, I may, in fact, love it here.
