The Barrett Brothers Collection

by K B Cinder

  “Me too!” So maybe I wasn’t so crazy about jumping into the program after all. Most people I told at work thought I was bonkers. But I didn’t have a choice really with my chosen field.

  His friendly eyes stayed with mine, giving me his undivided attention. “What are you studying?”

  “Social work.” I braced myself, expecting the inevitable negative reaction I was used to, but instead, he seemed to smile even wider.

  “That’s incredible. It’s a field that calls like no other.”

  Finally. Someone got it. Someone other than just Ethan at least. Even Lil and Jorge hated the idea, both telling me I was clinging to bad memories. They didn’t grasp that helping little ones was an act of healing in itself.

  “Can I be out of line for a moment?” he asked, nervously picking at his watch.

  Crap. He was totally going to say something rude. A jab about the pay. A reminder about the burn-out rate. He just needed to get the all-clear before smashing my career plans with a hammer.

  “Go for it.”

  “How about we grab lunch sometime? We can talk all about thesis statements and research projects. I’ve been toying with a PhD program and would love someone to chat with.”

  “That’s your pickup line?” I teased, unable to believe the words as soon as they fell out of my mouth. God, the man was trying to be nice.

  “Oh,” he muttered, face falling. “I’m sorry. I just thought that maybe you’d want to nerd out about school.”

  “No, no…” I trailed, guilt slicing through me. I was acting like an ass. “I’m sorry. That was a lame joke on my part. I work over… well, you know where I work. We could meet up one day this week?” It beat having lunch alone at my desk or with the seagulls.

  “Really?” he beamed.

  I nodded, sidestepping the mop that was now swooping at my toes. Maybe he could give me some pointers on surviving it all. I felt like I was drowning in assignments.

  “Oh wow, well, jeez, can you meet tomorrow?”

  That was quick. But the sooner, the better for my sake. “Yeah, time and place?”

  His lips twisted in thought before they fell into a frown. “Crap. I have a lunch meeting. Can you meet here after work? We can grab some pho at that new place down the street.”

  “Oh, uh…” I stammered, not really anticipating the dinner twist. It wasn’t like I had plans, but dinner felt more date-like than a simple lunch. Then again, I grabbed dinner with Ethan all the time. It was harmless. “That’s fine.”

  He handed me my fresh latte from the barista, smiling ear to ear. “I promise I won’t ruin this one,” he teased. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Keely.”

  Keely

  It look a lifetime to get ready for work the next morning. I didn’t want Rick to get the wrong idea about dinner afterward. Not because he wasn’t a catch. He would make any woman happy with his gorgeous green eyes, squared jaw, and slow smile. Any woman but me, of course.

  My type was more specific. Six-foot-five, blue eyed, and athletic. A man that liked his coffee black and his liquor pricey. A man by the name of Ethan Barrett.

  I was still holding out hope he would call, but when I hadn’t heard from him by lunch, I started getting sniffly at my desk and blotting my eyes between entries. It was silly really, but dammit, how hard was it to text me back? To say, hey thanks for the sex, but let’s stick to being friends, k thanks. Would that kill him? Seriously? I deserved a heads up.

  I never thought I’d be thankful for a copy machine meltdown, but the faulty machinery at least gave me something to focus on other than him all afternoon, calling around town for price quotes before picking a place. One whose repair guy was both rude and slow, making me late for dinner with Rick.

  When I walked into the quaint pho shop, he had already claimed a booth tucked in the back, effortlessly chic in his white button-down and blue slacks while he browsed the news on his cell, still rocking leather shoes that likely cost more than my entire outfit and then some.

  “Keely!” He stood to greet me with a warm hug, enveloping me in man and musk, his spicy cologne heavy.

  Usually, I wouldn’t hug someone I didn’t know well, but I welcomed one in hopes it’d soothe the ache deep inside. “I’m so sorry. I got held up with a repairman, and…”

  “No worries,” he assured, shaking his cell from side to side. “I had plenty of reading material. Big news day.”

  We slid into the booth and ordered, Rick opting for a chicken concoction while I stuck to tofu and sprouts, small talk about the horrors of grad school admission stirring up laughs until the food arrived.

  It felt great to shut off the emotional side of my brain and relax, the constant worry falling into the background. Rick was funnier than I pegged him for and knew the trials of grad school all too well. Nothing beat talking to someone who understood the difference between tired and grad student tired.

  “When you graduate, are you planning on working for the state or a private agency?” Rick poked at a wad of veggies in his dish, apparently not keen on sprouts judging by the pile left untouched.

  “Most likely the state.” It wasn’t my dream employer, but it would get my foot in the door. If everything worked out, I hoped to someday work at a girls’ home like I’d stayed in as a toddler, not that I’d confide in a stranger about it. I could carry my own baggage, thank you very much.

  He nodded as he slurped up a coiled rice noodle, the end disappearing behind his thick lips as they pursed. Lips Lil would want to eat up. “Working for the state gets a bad rap, but a lot of people enjoy it.”

  “It’ll pay the bills and get my feet wet.” And in such a huge field, that was a good start until I found my footing.

  “Hey…” he trailed after studying me for a moment, eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “I promised myself I’d never talk about work outside of it, but I swear I saw you last weekend. I meant to ask yesterday but forgot.”

  “Oh yeah?” I ventured, hoping to god he hadn’t seen Ethan and I sucking face at Bowie’s. “Where at?”

  “I was covering an art auction at Public Gardens.”

  I finished chewing a nugget of tofu before responding, mentally vowing to make the tofu pho a lunch-hour regular as I swallowed it down. “Yeah, I was there with a friend.” A friend that I wasn’t sure was one anymore.

  He laughed, flashing his pearly white smile that made me self-conscious about my own. My teeth were white, but he looked like he’d never had a sip of coffee in his life. “Ok, good. I thought I was going nuts at the time!”

  “That whole night was nuts,” I muttered, stabbing another hunk of tofu.

  “Didn’t like it?” he asked with an eyebrow cocked high. “You seemed to be having a fun time with your friend.”

  “We can have fun anywhere,” I explained with a laugh, my stomach in knots as I spoke. “Unfortunately, we both weren’t big on how flashy it all was.”

  He grinned with a shake of his head. “How’d two non-snobs end up at a Lorelei event? You two were the only ones smiling and laughing.”

  That’s usually how it was. Ethan and I could have fun anywhere. It was the main reason I’d started falling for him. Not that being six-foot-sex hurt.

  “My friend got tickets from a buddy.” And won a one-way ticket into my pants. “I wouldn’t go again. Too stuffy.”

  “You grew up with that crowd though, right?” he asked.

  I shook my head, unsure where he gleaned that tidbit from. We hadn’t talked about my upbringing. At least not that I could remember. “I don’t think anyone grows up with the Lorelei.”

  He laughed again, a deep, croaky laugh that reminded me of Dad after one too many cocktails. “Very true. What about your buddy?”

  “Nope. Just another regular Joe like me.” A regular Joe that flew around the world but still a regular person. He might have liked expensive booze, but he didn’t have a stuck-up bone in his body.

  He pushed the wad of sprouts around in his broth like a boat. One that w
as taking on water rapidly. “Have you known each other long?”

  Oh no. Was he trying to figure out what Ethan and I were? Dear God, don’t ask me out. Don’t make it awkward. “Two years.”

  He sunk his sprout boat entirely, both of us watching his soup-bowl massacre. “What’s he do for a living? In grad school, too?”

  “Something in tech,” I replied. “It sounds stupid, but I’m not a hundred-percent what. Maybe development? He’s really good with computers.”

  He brought the boat back to life, the sprout block still soaked with the salty brine and barely staying afloat. “Ah. A details guy?”

  “Something like that.” Ethan was the details guy. Even his details had details, all that he perfectly ordered for maximum efficiency.

  Every detail except one pesky little one.

  Me.

  Ethan

  City living wasn’t for everyone, and after ten years, I was fairly certain it wasn’t for me either. Having nearly everything I needed within walking distance was convenient, but it came with a heavy hand of fishbowl effect.

  Boston was feeling increasingly smaller, the squeeze of the press narrowing its borders. But I wouldn’t shut myself away in the penthouse. Hiding would only make it worse. It would lead to mistakes. Mistakes like winding up on the front page of the paper with my arm around the daughter of socialites.

  Now people weren’t just foaming at the mouth to unmask Ever; they wanted to learn more about me, the mystery man with Keely Doyle, Boston’s former child darling. A quick phone call could clear it up, but that invited questions and digging, two things I couldn’t allow.

  I continued along the waterfront, hoping the roll of the waves would calm my nerves, frayed from days of turmoil. It’d been almost a week since I left Kee, ignoring her calls and texts as they trickled in. It was cowardly, but it was necessary. I couldn’t use my go-to move of lashing out for space, but I also couldn’t continue down the path we were on.

  I loved her. It was as certain as the ground beneath my feet, a constant reality I couldn’t contain. And to love her, I had to let her go. Maybe in a few months I could check in, but there would always have to be a wall there. It was the only way she would be happy.

  Fireworks boomed sporadically in the distance, the last celebrations of Labor Day Weekend winding down. Once the new day came, it was back to usual, bodies hustling into work while little ones faced their first day back at school.

  For me, it brought adventure. My red-eye flight left at nearly midnight, a ticket to London giving me a few weeks abroad to sift through the emotional wreckage and get my shit together. In the time away, the interest in me and Ever would die down, and everything could go back to normal. A new normal, but I’d learn to adapt.

  The breeze off the water was a welcome relief, the night air too sticky to be comfortable for jogging, my t-shirt clinging to my chest. It also disbanded the heavy scent of dirt in the air, nearby construction sites piled high with soil as they carved out homes for new high-rises, much like the one I lived in.

  It was another sign that my time there was coming to an end. More buildings brought more people. More eyes to dodge. More chances to slip. It felt like life was forcing me into a corner, payback for the incredible streak of luck so far. I could either have happiness or anonymity, but I couldn’t have both.

  The time abroad would usher in clear thinking, a few weeks away from the canvas hopefully bringing it all into focus. I needed to think of where I’d go next, how I’d keep the fire stoked. It wouldn’t be easy, especially since Kee likely never wanted to see my face again after pulling a literal pump and dump.

  My chest ached at the thought, so much so that I had to slow from a steady jog to a walk. It was then that I heard the footsteps. Ones I hadn’t been able to hear over my own heartbeat before.

  I turned, seeing nothing, but certain someone was following me. It was after midnight, and no one was out on the stretch of walkway around the luxury buildings. I knew because I’d ran around it at least a dozen times so far that night. Every hair on my body stood up as I continued walking, the footsteps picking up as well.

  I made the sudden choice to run rather than fight, not willing to risk injury or exposure over a potential mugger. If they wanted to hurt me, they’d have to catch me. So I did just that, hauling ass down the path toward my building, knowing the average robber wouldn’t be able to catch up. I ran for at least an hour most nights. I had the stamina and speed of a goddamn racehorse.

  I was right too, managing to storm the front doors with no one on my tail. The night concierge, Crystal, looked concerned, the young thing still new to the role. She shouldn’t be scared, however, as armed guards were stationed at the door, both of whom had their guns drawn and pointed at me until they recognized my face.

  “Someone was following me on the path.”

  They holstered their guns, each looking at the other before turning to Crystal for direction. At barely twenty, she couldn’t direct her way out of a paperbag, let alone handle a potential danger.

  So I did her job for her. “Call the police to report a prowler. They’ll set up foot patrols in the vicinity. They should anyway, given the area.” You couldn’t dump a bunch of millionaires in a handful of buildings and not expect those looking to skim a bit off the top forcefully to notice.

  The door behind me opened suddenly, a brown-haired man stepping in. I’d never seen him around before, his square jaw and piercing green eyes more than memorable at a glance. I flicked my head to the guards in response, hackles raised. He was no doubt the person who’d been following me. I may have not seen him, but the timing of his arrival was too perfect to be a coincidence.

  “Sir, please list your apartment number and provide ID,” the shorter guard, Mitch, ordered, hand resting on his gun.

  The new arrival’s eyes bounced between all four of us. “I’m here to visit my girlfriend,” he said flatly.

  “What’s her apartment number and floor, sir?” Mitch wasn’t having it, his jaw clenched tight as he studied the stranger.

  “I’m not sure, sir,” the stranger replied. He put two hands up slightly to show he meant no harm, uneasy at Mitch’s hand resting on his gun. If he thought that was bad, he should’ve had two of them pointed at his chest like I’d just experienced.

  “What’s her name?” I asked, throwing him a lifeline from a few feet away. If he really was there to visit, that much would at least get him inside.

  His green eyes fixated on me, fear morphing into something else. Something else I couldn’t quite put a finger on. “Keely.”

  All the air was sucked out of me at his response, knowing for sure he’d been the person following me. “Keely what?” I asked, refusing to show that he had me cornered.

  “Boyle,” he replied, a taunting smile slicing across his face, bright white teeth emerging.

  “I’m sorry; there’s no Keely Boyle in this building,” Crystal called, having immediately searched the name in the resident records apparently. “You’ll have to leave.”

  The man didn’t flinch at the news, eyes still locked on me. It didn’t take a genius to figure out what he was. I could picture the press lanyard around his neck. He likely saw the photo of us in the paper and ran from there. “Seems like she gave me the wrong address,” he mused.

  I still didn’t cave, but my insides were burning. Kee had no idea where I lived, and my name wasn’t listed online to search for an address. I’d paid good money to make sure of it. He was bluffing. He had to be.

  “Have a good night, everyone. I’ll have to give her a call.” He shot me a parting wink before turning on his heel and fleeing back into the night, a tornado left in his wake.

  All that was certain was that my days living in Boston were numbered, and that I owed Kee a sliver of truth before she unknowingly got sucked into it.

  Keely

  I could kiss whoever invented curl cream, the serum taming my corkscrews like nothing else. Thanks to its almighty power, all
I had to do was change after work, and I was good to go.

  Skinny jeans, sneakers, and a tee were my oh-so-fancy attire of the evening, comfort key to enjoying the night. Rick and I were catching a psychology lecture together at the library, meeting at my place beforehand since it was a few blocks away. I was genuinely surprised how much fun we’d had during our geek-out grub sesh a week earlier, the hour-long back and forth the only time I’d smiled coming to terms with what Ethan had done.

  Initially, I thought he was busy. But slowly as the week unfolded, I was confronted with the fact that we were finished as friends. It blew a hole in my heart, so any distraction was worth exploring, even a lecture on a Tuesday night.

  I still hadn’t said a word to Lil or Jorge, too embarrassed about falling for the old fuck-and-chuck routine hook, line, and sinker. He’d caught me alright, and in the end, I was just another fish he threw back without a second thought.

  A spritz of my favorite perfume almost made me feel human. That is, until I turned around, the sight of my bed forcing my heart into my stomach. It was there that I thought my dreams were coming true, only to have them shattered cruelly moments later.

  I always pictured Ethan to be gentle as a lover. I wasn’t sure why, seeing that I had no business guessing how anyone was in the sack with my relative inexperience, but he was always kind to me. Patient. Sweet. I never expected him to be so rough, the purple bruising still visible on my hips from his fingers, the rawness of the encounter seeming like unbridled passion at the time.

  Now it felt wild. Savage. Cruel. He took what he wanted and left. He hadn’t answered my calls or texts, abandoning me with what-ifs, twisting the knife in the one spot he knew it’d stick the furthest and do the most damage.

  The thought brought fresh tears to my eyes, but a knock at the door had me wiping them away desperately, not wanting to be that girl. I could handle it. Men were pigs all the time. I had to put on my big girl britches, as Lil would say. So I did.