Page 111 of Counterfeit Connection

When we finished our conversation, he gave me some marching orders and, honestly, I’m grateful for the busy work. I worked up in my bedroom for a couple of hours before I took a break and opened my window for a bit of fresh air, only to see Tobias, whom I thought left, and Jason speaking very seriously by his rental car.

When Gillian calls me down for dinner later, I’m told Jason has left on “business.” I don’t want to assume what that means, but part of me thinks he’s flying across the pond to make good on his promise.

Chapter 35

Griffin

When the work slowed down and it was time for others to do their part, I was left with nothing to do butfeel.

Breathing feels like a chore. Chewing feels like a chore. Even taking a drink burns. At least it involves a bottle of Crown Royal. I found a taste for it when I spent a month in Calgary in my early twenties. It was the first kind of whiskey my brother and I would drink with. When I miss him…now her as well, it brings him closer. It keeps me anchored, even if it’s at the bottom of the bottle.

I haven’t slept more than a couple hours in two days. Every time I close my eyes, I see her, especially here. I lost myself in my work for a while. The hostile takeover was absolutely hostile. I spent a lot of time on guard for and with my mother as she ledthe charge to erase my father’s essence from Orion as completely as she could. I’ve never seen her so resolute and determined.

Her fight was back after so many years.

Mine is completely gone.

I spent so much time defining who I was in Joseph’s shadow, then without him. After that it was just the work I needed until a certain blonde upended my life in the best way. She’s still the best thing in my life, even if it’s better for her without me.

Now, what I have are memories that bring me bittersweet pain.

I woke up from a wicked nap on the lounge to a pounding headache. It wasn’t a headache that a couple of pills could cure. It was the kind of ache only a fool could have from being naïve to think I could keep Kaitlyn safe and that love between us would be enough.

I’ve been sitting, ever since, at the conference table in the middle of my apartment drowning myself in amber liquid while metal music rages through the sound system around me. The volume is so loud, the glass rattles with the bass. Each dark metal song blends from one to the next. “If It Doesn’t Hurt” by Nothing More repeats for the second time this session.

As the lyrics begin again, I scatter the dozens of drawings of houses, hills, architecture, and nature aside. What hurts is not touching her. What hurts is not seeing her. What hurts is I brought her pain. While I mentally beat myself raw, I find myself sketching pieces of Kaitlyn. Her lips. Her hand. Her eyes. First they come from memory, then the camera roll of my phone.

I pull the nearly thrice empty glass of Crown to my lips, letting it pass by them as I stare at one of my favorite pictures of her. Her face is turned just slightly over her shoulder as the sun backlights her beautiful face. Her smile could stop a man’s heart. I know it has mine.

If I’m being honest with myself, I’m not even sure what day it is anymore. All I know is the more I drink, the more numb I become, and the more numb I become, the less I want to punch a hole in the wall the size of the hole in my chest.

Fuck, I even miss that damn cat.

I never thought I’d miss a cat.

I tip the glass back and swallow the last few drops before shakily standing and going on the hunt for a fresh bottle, but I pause when I think I hear something.

Knock, knock, knock.

I’m not expecting anyone, I don’t think. Fuck, I’m likely delusional anyway, so I ignore it and keep walking. Then the pounding starts again. The floors are concrete and there’s no one above me. I’m in the goddamn penthouse. The music isn’t going to be turned down anytime soon so get used to the fucking concert.

A few minutes later, fresh bottle in hand, I hear the knocking again. This time I realize it’s actually knocking on my front door. They’re pounding so hard I can hear it above the music and from the other end of the hallway. “FUCK OFF,” I holler before sitting down at the table, staring across at my personal gallery.

I open the new bottle and before I can refill my glass to blind the rest of my thoughts, it’s swiftly taken from my grip. I whirl my head to my right. It takes my eyes a few seconds to catch up with the rest of my body. As they start to focus, and the double image in front of me becomes one, I find Tobias standing silently staring at his clearly disheveled best friend. Only, he’s not alone. Jason Thorne, Kaitlyn’s brother-in-law, is clearly pissed off right beside him.

“Well, isn’t this just fucking fantastic. Come all the way to London to make good on your promise to kick my ass for hurting her? Well,” I hold my arms out in the air level to the table in submission, “do your worst.”

Jason cocks his head to the side slightly before politely barking his first order, “Thanks for the entry, Tobias. Would you leave us, please?”

“No, I need a witness. You understand,” I say, half laughing. I’m so done.

“I’d be happy to,” Tobias replies. “Leave, that is.” He crosses the room and claps a hand on my shoulder. “Drink some goddamn water, eat something, and listen to what the man has to say. Don’t be a drunken arsehole. And you, don’t kill him.”

“I make no promises,” Jason growls.

I simply stand here and slowly watch Tobias leave, and soon I’m alone with Jason Thorne.

His hands are in his pockets and he stands stoically about ten feet from me. “You should put that down.” He motions to the liquor in my hand. “By the looks of it, I’d say you’re a few bottles in.”

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