Page 7 of Bren

“Or open another company,” I agree, relieved that he’s calmed down a little.

“What a pair we are, hey, both of us wanting people that don’t seem to want us. Not sure what we did wrong in another life,” Sam mutters, rubbing a hand down his face before sitting on the bed.

Sitting next to him, I wrap my arm around my brother and lean my head on his shoulder. “Bella’s stupid, Sam. I don’t know why she can’t see how amazing you are. Maybe we should both move on, although I’ll have to wait until this little one is older. But you don’t have to wait,” I nudge him gently with my shoulder.

“Think on it,” I tell him, getting up from the bed and going to my suitcase. “I’m going to shower, have a look for a flight, but if you can’t get on mine don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

As luck would have it, Sam was able to get on the same flight as me. We left the following day. As Lizzie drove us away, having offered to drop us off at the airport, I caught sight of Alec standing by himself in the car park, shoulders hunched to his ears, an uncertain look on his face. Sam caught my eye in the rearview mirror as I wiped a tear from my cheek. This was not how I envisioned my life going. Just goes to show that you should be careful what you wish for.

Chapter 4

ALEC

The evening sky was turning dark when I found out that a text I’d received from Mum that had confused me would be the one that changed my life.

It was my turn to close up the garage, and I was alone, which wasn’t good because it left me alone with my thoughts. I’m not sure what happened the night that Bren arrived at the Queens Wraiths Clubhouse. But I’d got weird vibes off Sam in the months that followed. Where we’d spoken nearly every day since I’d met him, now if we texted once a week, it was a lot and it was always me that reached out. I missed my best friend; when I’d said as much to Cash and Lizzie, they’d both called me an idiot, and I’m not sure why. It was like they all knew the joke and I was the punchline.

I kept out of everyone’s way and threw myself into learning as much as I could over the next few months. I wanted to get home; everything was off-kilter. Not only was Sam being weird, but ever since Bren had got back to the UK, my mum and Gunny were acting strange too.

The amount of information that Mum had sent me about Bren’s baby had been odd, but something had made me save the text with the picture she’d sent just on a month ago. It was a picture of Bren, not long after she’d given birth, proudly holding her baby girl up.

It had hit me when I’d looked at that picture how beautiful Bren truly was. Even tired from having just given birth, she was smiling a wide, proud smile and holding her little girl up towards the camera. Mum and Abby had been standing on either side of her bed. In the background, Gunny and Reaper were both smiling proud smiles.

Taking my phone from my pocket, I once again stared at the text thread from my mother, trying to decipher what she meant.

Mum – Bren and baby Alexandra (Lexi) Abigail Crow. Weighing 7lb 5oz. Mum and baby are doing well and we’re so happy to welcome her to the family. The baby is gorgeous, Alec.

Me – Tell Bren congratulations for me.

Mum – Okay. Is that all you want to say?

Frowning at the text bubble, I shoved my hand into my pocket and curled my fingers around the earring that I kept in there. A month later and I still didn’t know what she meant. What else did Mum think I had to say?

“What has you frowning like that?” Cash asks, knocking against my shoulder with his as he comes to a stop next to me in the garage, Maestro following him in.

“Mum sent me a text when Bren had her baby, and she asked me if I wanted to say anything other than congratulations? I mean, what else am I meant to say?” I ask my brother in confusion.

Maestro and Cash exchange a look that I can’t explain. “I don’t know what to say, Alec, other than you’re an idiot, and I pray that one day you don’t wake up and regret losing out on one of the biggest gifts you could be given.”

Throwing my hands up in the air in frustration, I throw my head back and let out a growl before pointing my finger at my brother. “You see that comment right there. I’ve been getting a lot of that,but nobody will explain them. It’s like I’m in some weird joke and I’m the punchline, but I have no fucking clue why. What do you fucking mean, Cash? What the fuck is going on?”

Cash shakes his head at me and shrugs, “Not up to me to say anything, Alec. You’ve been given lots of hints and you’re still not connecting the dots.

“But you’re my little brother so I’ll try and help. Let’s break down the last few months and see if you finally get it. Tell me, little brother, when is the last time you fucked someone? Because when you first got here, you had a different woman every night. I’ve noticed that hasn’t happened in the last months.”

He's right; I haven’t slept with anyone, not when my hard-on disappears as soon as I have a woman in my bed. It’s easier to jack myself off than go through wondering what is wrong with me. Thinking back over the last few months, the last time I slept with anyone was when I was in Dallas.‘Fuck me,’it’s been over nine months.

“It’s been a long time,” I mutter, “not since Dallas, so maybe ten or so months.”

Maestro and Cash share a look again. “Huhuh,” Maestro nods, “and what happened in Dallas?”

Shoving my hand back into my pocket, my fingers curl around the earring as I think hard, casting my mind back to the weekend in Dallas, “There was the convention, I met Bren for dinner and drinks, we went to a nightclub to do some dancing. I must have picked up my one-night stand there, and that’s the last I remember.”

“Jesus, this is a fucking car crash. How can you be so dense?” Cash groans, rubbing his hands over his face as if frustrated with me.

Now I’m getting angry. I’ve worked hard to keep a lid on my temper, knowing what our biological father was like, and I never wanted to be like him. But the last few months have been stressful, and I feel like everyone is against me, and I’ve got no fucking clue why. They obviously all know something and are keeping it from me, and it’s pissing me off.

“Fucking tell me, Cash. I’m sick of all the comments, weird texts, my best friend not talking to me,” I shout. Throwing out my arm, I punch the oil drum that we brought in earlier, grimacing as pain radiates over my knuckles and up my arm. Better the oil drum than my brother, though.

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