Page 180 of Bleeding Hearts Duet

“I haven’t talked to him since I told him Norma was in rehab,” I admitted. “I don’t know what I would say.”

“Just ask him, Brighton,” she encouraged. “I’ll sit here with you while you do it.”

“You would?”

“Of course, I would,” she insisted. “That’s what friends are for.”

I reached for my phone and hovered over Brayden’s contact. What if I couldn’t handle his answers? I wasn’t entirely certain I wanted to do this. But I needed to know the truth, and Nicole was right. There was only one way to find out. So with a deep breath, I pressed send and waited patiently while the line connected.

“Hello?” Brayden answered.

“Brayden,” I sputtered.

“Brighton.” His tone was flat and cold.

I fidgeted while I tried to figure out what to say. It had never been this difficult to talk to him before. So why was it now?

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?” he belted out a hollow laugh. “You send your fucking watchdog here to threaten me, and now you want to ask how I’ve been? I can’t believe you married that prick.”

I swallowed and squeezed the phone in my trembling hand. “You’ve seen Ryland?”

“What the fuck do you think?” he snarled. “Why else would he be in Chicago?”

I almost hung up. I didn’t want to hear this. But I kept telling myself that Ryland wouldn’t do this to me again. That he wouldn’t hurt me like this.

“What did he say?”

“He’s trying to tell me who I can and cannot associate with,” Brayden grated. “As if I believe one fuckin’ word that comes out of his mouth.”

“Who have you been spending time with?” I demanded. “Why are you in Chicago?”

“Why don’t you ask your husband,” he suggested. “He seems to know all about it.”

“I’m asking you.” My voice wobbled. “My brother. Because I don’t want to see you screw up your life Brayden.”

“My life was fucked from the day Frankie walked into it,” he said. “And that’s all you need to know, Brighton. You have your perfect little life in San Francisco. Congratulations on the baby, by the way, I hope it doesn’t try to kill you in your sleep.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I snarled. “You’re my brother, Brayden! How can you talk to me that way?”

There was a beat of silence on the other end of the line, and I knew he regretted what he’d said. But it didn’t change the fact that he’d said it.

“Look, Brighton,” his voice softened. “I don’t want to fight with you. You’re my sister, and I’m always going to love you, no matter what. But we’re living two different lives now, and you need to stop worrying about me. I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself.”

“So that’s it?” I whispered. “We’re just not going to see each other or spend time together anymore?”

“And how would that work exactly?” he asked. “I come down to California and spend Christmas with you and Ryland? Or you and Ryland come here and stay in my shitty apartment for a couple of days throughout the year? We can sit around the table, break bread, talk about the stock market. You tell me if that’s how you see it, Brighton. Because you and I both know that will never fucking happen.”

“He invited you to the wedding,” I said. “You didn’t come.”

Silence. Again.

There were a couple of other voices in the background I didn’t recognize. They were talking to Brayden.

“Listen, I gotta go, Brighton. I’ll try to call you later, okay?”

He was brushing me off. Something I’d never thought Brayden would ever do. “Okay,” I agreed. “Talk to you later then.”

I hung up the phone and cried.

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