No Broken Bond

by Angel Payne

  “Well.” Sasha adjusted her weight, cocking her head with a knowing tick. “If they weren’t before you walked in, they will be now.”

  Yep. Here it was. The moment of truth I’d been waiting for. And dreading.

  Despite the hammer of my heartbeat, I forced out an easy smile. “And that means?”

  One second of silence. One more.

  “Fletcher.”

  “Sasha.”

  “Are you kidding?”

  “No. Not really in the mood for jokes. If you have something to say, sister, say it.” I swept out a hand, clearing the stage for her. If she wanted to make a show out of this, I was damn well going to let her. The gin finally spun some magic into my blood. My nerves dulled, clearing plenty of room for the anger.

  She added a little grunt to the annoying pish. “Come on, Fletch. Did you see Mother’s and Father’s faces when you got here with Drake and that woman? When the three of you walked in, like nobody could tell what you’re all about?” Her head rocked, tilting the other direction. “You’re seriously trying to be disinherited, aren’t you?”

  “And why do you care?” I volleyed. “I have a feeling you wouldn’t lose a wink of sleep over it, sister.”

  I sucked in a deep breath, hoping it accomplished double duty. I needed to stay calm, while shoring the walls of my heart. Proclaiming true feelings in this house was often an exercise in pain and disappointment. I didn’t expect this occasion to be any different.

  “I love them.”

  At first, Sasha didn’t move. It was almost as if I hadn’t spoken. But in subtle degrees, her face changed. Disapproval flared her gaze. Disappointment flattened her lips. Her nose wrinkled as if a skunk had paraded across the room.

  Every reaction my head had predicted.

  Every reaction my heart wouldn’t let pass by.

  Making me slam down my glass, frustrated words tumbling out.

  “I don’t care what you all think. It’s good, it’s real, and I’m not going to hide it.”

  She shrugged. Shook her head. “You’re hopeless, Fletcher.”

  “And you’re a snob, Sasha.”

  “Well, oh, my God. Alert the press. Gasp. There are snobs among us!”

  I didn’t want her stab to hurt so much. I didn’t want to care so much. But in a weird way, she was right. Family was family. Though I hardly recognized them anymore, they were my blood—and it did hurt.

  And as the pain grew, so did my anger.

  “You’ve become just like her,” I spat. “Just like them.”

  “And that’s bad?” She gave a haughty laugh while attempting to look down her surgically sculpted nose.

  “It could be—if you keep it up. You really want to end up like her?”

  She flashed an impish grin. “Oh, that’s pretty funny—coming from you.”

  “Because she’s the picture of happiness, Sash? Stability? Is she really what you aspire to be? The ‘marriage’ they’re celebrating out there…is that really what you want for your life? Your heart?”

  Redness crept up her face. Oh, I’d struck a nerve—probably more. I’d attacked her role model. Questioned the marriage—well, the farce of one—she held in such high esteem. I hated myself for doing it. This wasn’t just teasing my baby sister about smooching with her teen idol posters. I’d hurt her. Sure, I’d spoken nothing but the truth, but it had caused her pain, nonetheless.

  “So, let me get this right,” she finally ventured, rocking back on her four-inch heels. “You’re concerned about me idolizing Mom and Dad, and their not-quite-normal marriage…but you’ll go back to the city tonight, and sleep with a woman—and another man?” A quip of a laugh fell from her. “Sorry, brother, but ewww.”

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “We don’t sleep together, Sash. Well, we sleep but we don’t—oh, fuck it. That’s just not how it works. Jesus.”

  “Enlighten me, then. No. Wait. Don’t.” Her hand went up, giving me the full stop signal. “I want to keep my mind free of that image.”

  “Never asked you to go there in the first place.” I leaned back against a counter, once more dropping into diplomat mode. If she wanted to keep up with the self-righteous society girl on me, she’d have to work for it. I wished that meant her haughty little huff wasn’t so gratifying, but then I’d be the liar of her accusation.

  “Oh, Fletch.” Her voice dipped and she pursed her lips as if chiding a dog for messing the carpet. “What did you really think was going to happen, bringing both of them here?”

  I tilted my head to the side, as if in thought. It was strictly for dramatic impact, and she probably knew it, but it was fun watching her squirm a little anyway. “You want to know what I really thought?” I edged my stare back down at her, proving noses didn’t have to be artificially sculpted for damning impact. “I thought my family would be happy for me. One thing strikes me as interesting, however…” Inserting an acerbic snort felt as good as the dagger stare. “Have you noticed the only people who really care about it are Dick and Franny?” Using the snarky nicknames for my own parents didn’t feel as good as I’d expected. Neither did Sasha’s incensed reaction. I plunged on, “Oh, and now you.” I finished by arching a brow toward the hallway. “No one else here has so much as batted an eyelash. So fascinating.”

  Well. There it was. The ball, firmly back in her court. I watched as a return play turned her eyes to uncut sapphires. She wasn’t going to let the play roll out of bounds.

  I braced myself.

  Sure enough, she spun me a one-hundred-eighty-degree play. In an instant, the patronizing, saccharine-sweet little sister was gone. In her place? A bitch on wheels to put even the glory days of Margaux Asher to shame. A she-creature with a snarl on her lips, a stance like a MMA fighter and a vicious glower I barely recognized.

  “Don’t be a damn fool, Fletcher. And don’t turn your back. You think those people out there aren’t watching every move the three of you make? That they aren’t whispering about you like the sharks they all are? You just became the chum in the water, brother.” She cocked a hip out, raising both perfectly tweezed brows. “Such a shame, too. I really like Talia, you know. She’s a lovely woman.”

  Well, that did it.

  She’d purposely brought Tolly into the mix.

  In return, I eagerly took my own turn in the Come-to-Jesus game. Like second nature—because it was—I shucked any hope of salvaging what little ‘family’ ties I shared with this woman and eagerly climbed into executive office mode. At once, I became the man everyone saw at Ford Engineering—the no-nonsense, no-bullshit businessman who’d swum with real sharks and built my professional reputation around the world. I’d just never unleashed it on my younger sister before. That all changed now. She’d poked the hornet’s nest and was about to be stung.

  “Hmmm. Speaking of scum—” I see-sawed my head. “Ohhhh, wait. You said chum.” Hitched a nonchalant shrug. “Where is Marshall tonight? Not like your boyfriend to miss an opportunity for crawling farther up Dad’s ass.”

  I stopped there, hoping the subject of Marshall Golde would be closed by her announcing they’d broken up. No such chance. Sasha preened as if referring to one of those teen idols from her pink bedroom walls. Her love-struck teen thing went on as she professed, “He was going to be here but couldn’t be.”

  “That so?”

  “Yes.” She sighed dramatically.

  I wanted to roll my eyes. No. I wanted to shoot myself in each foot. My bombshell would probably have to be dropped.

  “Well, he couldn’t help it,” she explained. “The partners assigned him a project at the last minute. He couldn’t say no. You know how things like that go. What’s that look for?”

  “Oh, come on, Sash. Are you that naïve?”

  “Naïve? Ha!” She tossed her head back. “Says the guy who can’t make up his mind for a partner?”

  “Yeah? Well, you may want to put a tracker on that walking teabag you call a ‘partner’.”

  Her head d
ropped. Her glee went manic, darkening again. “Be very careful where you’re treading, Fletcher.”

  “Advice you may want to give Marshall, as well,” I parried. “Either that, or put a cowbell on the douchebag. I’ve seen him at the club a few times, you know—when you think he’s doing a project for the partners.” I jabbed air quotes around the word project, to emphasize the awful affect. It seemed to work. Her gorgeously manipulated face began reddening, betraying how her own gut recognized the fact of my words and didn’t want to. “Believe me, darling. The only project Marshall’s working on right now is how many ways he can get into Lorena Clemson’s snatch.”

  She turned red as a beet now. “Take it back.”

  “Or what, Sash? You’ll out Drake, Talia and me? Sounds like that boat’s sailed and you’re still standing on the dock. Be careful where you’re looking, though. I think I see Marshall making sure Lorena Clemson notices his mast.”

  “Fletcher!”

  She twisted her lips before stamping her foot. I fought the urge to pull out my phone and SnapChat the moment. It was that fucking priceless.

  “Suit yourself, sister.” I sneered the word, imitating her use of brother earlier. “Keep sticking your head in the sand. I’m pretty sure that’s a patented Francine Ford move, too. You’ll have all of them mastered in no time.” I pumped a fist into the air. “Gooooo, Sasha.”

  She stamped the other foot. I was damn near impressed. That shit couldn’t be easy in those heels. “You’re disgusting.”

  I shook my head slowly. Almost ruefully. “And you’re clueless.”

  “If Mommy and Daddy don’t throw you out by the end of the night, they will when I tell them how awful you’ve been. Awful. Spreading those vicious lies about the man who’s going to be your family. Your brother-in-law!”

  “Baby, until that douche nozzle gives you a ring, I wouldn’t be making too many ‘Reserve the Date’ cards.”

  No more stamping feet. Instead, she drove down both fists atop the chopping block. A couple of the booze bottles even jumped from the impact. “Take. It. Back.” Her reiteration was snarled from bared teeth.

  “Won’t make it any less the truth.” My reply was, strangely, the exact opposite. Maybe, like the harpies of old, she’d hogged all the rage in the room for herself. Or maybe I just realized that the woman in front of me was no longer the sister I’d loved, and wasn’t worth one more drop of my emotion. Of any emotion. “Marshall is having way too much fun sleeping with half the city to get tied down to anyone, sweetheart—let alone to a shrew like you.”

  She dragged her hands back in. They were claws now, screeching against the custom tiles atop the block. “That’s it. I’m telling them. Then you’ll be thrown out in front of everyone.”

  “Don’t bother. I’m leaving.” I pushed forward, moving into her personal space while whipping up a hand to shield my stage whisper from an invisible audience. “And don’t worry, darling. I’ll take all my embarrassing little secrets with me.”

  As she fumed, I simply couldn’t resist a final pièce de résistance. With speed only a big brother would dare, I grabbed her, yanked her close and planted a sloppy, wet kiss on her cheek. She gasped but I persisted, hauling her into a breath-squeezing hug. High-pitched blustering ensued as she battled to push me away, but I answered her demand before she could vocalize it, releasing her to barrel toward the doorway back into the living room.

  Drake. Tolly. They were my only targets now. I needed to find them and get out of this hellmouth of a house before any more of this sick energy could seep into us by osmosis.

  I searched the crowd for Talia first. There, in the cluster of women gathered near the fireplace, her beauty enhanced tenfold by the light from the grate and the cream-colored sweater dress she wore. Her eyes sought mine at once. I inhaled deeply then started a path toward her, concentrating on pushing out all the frustration and anxiety on the exhalation. A new breath in, and I envisioned the poison in my soul being edged out by calm cohesiveness. Another breath and I was back to sporting the collected front everyone was used to seeing.

  I could move again. Thank fuck.

  But Tolly was already on her feet. She discreetly excused herself from the clutch of women chatting away about God knew what, then slipped around the neighboring bunch of men who were embroiled in local politics talk. Her stare, fixed on me like a laser, never wavered. She already knew something was off and no way would she let me get away with hiding. I needed her insistence on honesty the way a beached fish longed to be thrown back into the ocean.

  God damn, I loved this woman. Craved her. Needed her.

  But I needed the other fish in my ocean, too. Drake. Where the hell was he?

  He appeared from the direction of Dad’s den, concern stamping his face as soon as he saw me. My chest compressed as all my senses recognized my own truth. It was so simple. So perfectly right.

  If the world suddenly fell away from the edges of this house, my life would still be complete. The only two people who mattered to me were here, rushing at me from opposite directions, converging next to me—

  Completing me once more.

  “Ghost?” Drake muttered, for our ears only. It was a term he and I had always used for getting the hell out of somewhere. Time to disappear like a ghost. Most of the time, it had been our exit strategy from clingy women, but the metaphor fit this situation just as ideally. In more ways than one.

  As in, I felt like a ghost in this house. Just a visitor now, though I wondered if I’d ever really fit in here. For that matter, anywhere. I’d always had just places to live—I’d never really called somewhere my real home. I wanted to find that place now—and make it come alive with the two of them.

  As in, perhaps I’d seen a ghost. In Sasha. My mother had been reincarnated before death, haunting me in the form of her exact replica, a hissing harpy confronting me in the kitchen while the original model held court in the living room.

  As in, I was about to become a ghost to them.

  The deepest, and hardest, blade to accept.

  It’d be a long time before I was welcomed back in this place again. Yeah, I’d been the black sheep most of my life, but when Mom and Dad learned about the way I’d spoken to Sasha…on top of that, breaking every guy code ever invented by selling out my sister’s boyfriend? It’d be months until another invitation came. Maybe years.

  “Let me just grab my coat and bag from the guest room,” Talia murmured. “I think that’s where they put them.”

  Before she could turn away, I pulled back on her hand. Her warmth and strength…they were keeping my very sanity together. Thankfully, Drake picked up on that, too.

  “I’ll get your stuff.” Drake stuffed the keys to his Range Rover into her slim fingers. “Just take him out to the car. I’ll be right behind you.” He turned for the hallway to the guest suite. He knew his way around my parents’ house as well as I did.

  “Well.” Talia said it on an airy sigh. “Guess that’s settled.” She tugged lightly on my sleeve. “Come on, you, let’s go.” But I didn’t budge. “Fletcher. Come on. Fletcher, look at me. Look.” She tugged harder, followed by pinching my forearm. The snip of pain was enough to clear my mental fog and focus solely on her face for a moment.

  On her face…

  That beautiful face.

  The brown eyes, cutting to my soul. The half-smile, speaking to my heart. The determined chin, fortifying my resolve to get the fuck out of here.

  My sweet Talia. My one and forever.

  “I love you.” I mouthed it more than spoke it, not trusting my voice to stay solid. I suddenly felt removed from my body, as if I could control nothing. As if the world were happening to me instead of because of me. My heart rate sprinted. My blood pumped hard, as if wanting to explode from my veins. But outwardly, I was a zombie. I caught enough of that disgusting reflection in her eyes.

  Eyes getting closer, as she rose to her tiptoes to give me a quick kiss. I wanted more—she tasted so damn good—but s
he was leaning in tighter now, almost as if hugging me.

  Instead, she spoke to me. Tucked her lips close enough to my ear, so I could hear every whispered word. “Okay, listen to me, big guy. We need to get out of here before there’s a bigger scene. People are looking, but they only think we’re sharing a little love moment over here. I need you to help me. You have to put your feet in front of each other and start moving toward the front door, okay?”

  I felt my head dip in what was hopefully a nod. I’d follow this woman through a pit of snakes. Across a burning bed of coals without shoes. I would follow her to the ends of the fucking Earth—because with her, I finally had peace. My forever.

  So, yeah, I did what she asked. Didn’t say a word, though. Everything inside still careened with conflict, dicing and slicing my brain as it struggled to process the ugly reality known as my fucking family. Not that the effort worked. I was numb, so I just let her tug on my sleeve a little more, guiding me out to the front sidewalk.

  The nighttime temperature had dropped significantly, the cold acting like a wicked slap in the face. It caused me to stop in my tracks and stare at Talia. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  She shook her head but there was an adoring smile at the edges of her lips. “Not a damn thing. Not anymore.”

  I unfurled a grunt, conveying how I believed her as much as a kitten hiding a dead mouse. “I’ll just get it out of you in the car.” The challenge, issued while I fished the keys out of her hand, was finished by the chirp of the fob. “Come on,” I added, craving more than anything to kiss her in the surprisingly romantic ambiance of the Range Rover’s dome lights. “Drake will be out in a minute. The second he is, I want away from this House of Lannisters.”

  “Who?”

  I rolled my eyes. “One day, I’ll awaken you and that buddy of mine to the awesomeness of Game of Thrones.”

  “Because it has families like yours in it?”

  She had a point and I wasn’t in the mood to pose a debate. “Just get in,” I urged while opening the car door. “I want to go home. We can all take a bath, or sit by the fire, or crawl into bed and eat chips.”