Page 92 of The Sculptor

My heart sinks to my toes. I don’t know if I can handle more bad news.

“Meet me tomorrow at the café.” She hurries out.

“What is it? Why can’t you just tell me now?”

I can hear the struggle in her silence. “I need you to see it in person.”

“See what?”

“Proof.”

“Proof of what?”

Suddenly, I’m excited that we may finally have Langston where we want him.

“Proof that,” Kelly exhales, “Duke knows more than he’s said.”

Duke

We didn’t stop for jerky or ice cream.

In fact, Ray and I barely said two words to each other when I had her drop me off at the office.

I needed to see my brother. Last night, I was seconds away from rocking in a corner—something I haven’t done in many years.

The memory was so vivid that I felt like I was back there. I don’t know if it was the cabin or just all the research opening old wounds. But if anyone can understand nearly blacking out from stress, it’s Vance. When Logan, his best friend, died under his care, he could barely function from the grief. Astor and I would find him passed out from the anxiety—especially when Logan’s wife filed a malpractice lawsuit against him.

Clearly, the Potter brothers don’t adapt well to stress, except for maybe Astor. He seems to be holding it together better than Vance and me.

Still, last night was fucked-up—even more so after seeing her sketch. Was that supposed to be Jude? Surely, she didn’t mean to draw him with those eyes. What was I supposed to think?

“Yoo-hoo! Everyone off the crazy train.”

I snap to attention at Remington’s voice, who I find lounging in Vance’s office chair, doing something on his computer. “Where’s my brother?”

He taps a few keys on the keyboard, never looking at me. “Most likely banging Halle in the operating room, but then again, he did say he had a patient in room five.”

I roll my eyes. “So, he’s with a patient?” The little shit just wants to get on my nerves.

“I’m supposed to hang out with you until he’s done.” He shrugs like he doesn’t give a fuck since he’s paid by the hour. “So, how was your honeymoon? Was Mrs. Potter everything you dreamed of?” He’s still engrossed in something on Vance’s computer.

“Mrs. Potter is none of your damn business.” I toss my bag on the floor and lower into one of the chairs in front of Vance’s desk.

“Aww, that’s so cute you want to keep her all to yourself. How noble of you, Dr. Douche.” He makes this noise and grunts before flashing me a conniving grin. “Hold whatever comeback you were trying to think of.”

He presses a button on Vance’s phone, leaving it on speaker as he dials the number, a familiar voice laughing on the other end of the phone. “Go ahead, Keys. Tell me what I want to hear.”

I smile at the sound of Keagan, Astor’s girlfriend, laughing hard. “I refuse.”

Remington grins even wider than before. Who knew talking to Keys would excite him this much. “Say it, Keys. You lost fair and square.”

Keagan’s laughter dies down, and she pulls in a steadying breath as if she’s preparing herself for what he’s making her say. “Fine,” she relents, “a deal is a deal.”

“Damn right it is.”

Remington is literally thrumming with anticipation when Keys says, “You were right. Dongs rule, and girls drool.”

This boy holds out his fist for me to bump, which I do, since clearly, we dongs need to stick together. “Don’t you forget it either. Now, go make a game I can’t beat. I’m tired of making you feel bad.”

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