Page 25 of Conflict
MY THUMBSdrum along the steering wheel with increased anticipation the closer I get to Atlanta. Every hour—hell, every second—spent away from Alyssa heightens my anxiety. I left her with a kiss, a promise, and a hope that she’ll still be there when I return. From the hurt expression in her beautiful eyes, I’m not sure she’ll comply.
I could’ve stayed at the resort, spent the rest of the week with her as planned. Still planned, once I get my cousin sorted. It’s just, when Branson needs me, I’m there. We are the closest in age of all the Wellingtons, and both us have probably been the most misunderstood. You could say we’re more like brothers, even though he has two. It’s a long story, but the fact remains: When he needs me, I don’t hesitate.
With the click of a button, I command my car to repeat his voice message over my speakers, listening to it for about the fifteenth time and wondering what the hell he got into last night.
“Shane. Brother,” he slurs, then chuckles. “Ha, brother. You might be my cousin, but you’re the closest thing I have to a brother since I fucked my brother’s girl.” Another pause. Then slurring continues. “Do you know I didn’t even know Knox was still with her? I didn’t even know what happened until I woke up the next day and there she was. It doesn’t matter anymore anyway. Megan signed the divorce papers, thank fuck. Knox is in love with some banging chick who put me in a headlock. A HEADLOCK. Do you know how fuckin’ awesome that is? Don’t get me started on Cohen. Anyways. I’m calling because something happened last night and I dunno what or who or what… But oh my God, Shane. I met my future wife. She just doesn’t know. And I kinda don’t know who she is. I also might still kinda be a little drunk. Do you think the hotel will give me their footage so I can find her? I’m tellin’ you, man. This woman will save my life.”
Branson’s rambling goes on so long that the voicemail finally cut him off. The last sentence gives me pause, and while I’ve never feared Branson hurting himself, I won’t rest easy until I see with my own two eyes that he’s okay.
And once I do, my ass is back on the road, racing towards Alyssa, and hoping like hell she’s still there.
If she’s not… I’m not worried. I’m a Wellington and I’m up for the chase.
“Pick up the fucking phone, Branson,” I say, leaving him a fourth voicemail.
It’s not like it matters. I know where Branson stays when he’s in town and I’m just pulling up now. Tossing my keys to the valet, I rush into the hotel lobby towards the reception desk in quick strides. I breathe a sigh of relief when I see a friendly, familiar face, though I can’t quite remember her name. We’ve been in this same situation though, and when—I look down at her name tag—Tabitha sees me, she gives me a sympathetic smile.
“Mr. Wellington had to be carried to his room last night,” she informs me with a slight shake of her head. “That woman did a number on him, didn’t she?”
I nod then start to walk away, taking two steps when her words set in. I turn back. “What do you mean,thatwoman?” I ask. If Megan’s involved, I’m ready to tear her a new one. She’s done enough to this family.
“If I’m not workin’ the desk, I sometimes like to take shifts in the bar. Two nights ago was one of those nights, because there was a big event in the ballroom that took our regular bartenders, so I filled in. Mr. Wellington came in, declared he would rather drink his dinner, and proceeded to make quite good friends with Mr. Walker.”
I sigh. “Which color?” I ask, because even though Bran has the money, I can only imagine the pretty penny he spent.
She grins. “He asked for blue, but fortunately for his wallet, the party in the ballroom had already commandeered all of that color. He decided to settle for green.”
I blow out a breath. “Well, that’s a bit of a relief. So, the woman?”
“Oh, yes, of course. A pretty girl came in some time later. We had a bit of a crowd that night, people mingling… You know how Saturdays get.”
I nod. Half the people I know love swanky hotel bars on Saturday nights in the city.
“So her only seat of choice was next to him. I barely turned around and then they were gone. I just happened to catch a glimpse of his arm around her shoulder. She seemed to be helping him stumble. Then, last night, I was working the desk and he asked me if I knew who the ‘angel in red’ was. I hadn’t a clue who she was; I’d never seen her before. When I told him so, and regretfully told him I could not share the guest list for the party, he got agitated then proceeded to the bar.”
“I see.”
She grimaces. “I suppose that’s why you’re here,” she says with a sigh. Then she checks her computer before programming a keycard. “Here you go. I hope you find him in better shape than he was last night.”
As the elevator climbs, I think about what Tabitha said. A number was undoubtedly done to Branson. AndbyBranson.
I’ve seen him at what I thought was his lowest. It wasn’t after he served Megan with divorce papers. It wasn’t even after he’d caught her cheating on him.
The lowest I’ve ever seen him was the day he learned that his younger brother shipped off to army boot camp. God, even though it was eleven years ago, I can remember that day like it was yesterday.
I’d just taken my macroeconomics final and was looking forward to summer break even though my dad had already planned for me to intern at Wellington Enterprises. Before, however, Branson and I had planned on spending two weeks in Puerto Vallarta, basking in sun, sand, and sex.
Instead, it all came crashing down with just one call.
I didn’t think my high could’ve been shattered, and I was so wrong. Even though Branson wasn’t supposed to meet me at the airport until the next day, I didn’t think anything of it when I fished my ringing phone out of my pocket and saw his name flashing on my screen. But when I pressed the phone to my ear, the sound of sobs and slurred words greeted me.
“He’s gone, Shane. My fucking brother is going to war. He’s going to die because of me. I’ll never fucking forgive myself. I should sign up. I deserve to die instead of him.”
By the time I understood exactly what he was telling me, I was already in my car on the way. So, instead of Mexico, we spent two weeks holed up in his apartment in Nashville—him binge drinking and me making sure he didn’t drink himself to death and trying to make him understand that just because Knox joined the Army didn’t mean he was going to war.
After two weeks and Branson missing the first day of his own internship, his father showed up and demanded he get his head out of his ass or his future was on the line. That’s the day the Branson I grew up with went away. I’ve only seen mere glimpses of him since.
The next summer, Branson was engaged to Megan, and well, now that he’s divorcing, I guess you can say that’s history that will be better off once it’s buried. In all of that time, the only person who heard from Knox was Cohen, who was too young to understand what was happening in the family.
