CARSON
Owen storms into my house the next day and I know he knows. I know he is ready to beat the shit out of me.
“I asked one thing of you, Carson. One goddamn thing and you couldn’t even follow through with that. I told you not to touch her. I told you to stay away from her. And yet here I am picking up the goddamn pieces when I find her in tears in my house.” He paces the living room, his face flamed in anger. “I don’t want to pick up her pieces anymore. I don’t want to be the one that tells her it will all be okay. Because you can only go through so many broken hearts before you are completely destroyed.”
I stare at him. My mind already a rage-fueled mess. “Did she tell you about the article? The article she wrote that will send me to prison. She went through my files, Owen. She broke into my safe, found shit out that no one knows, and she is implicating me in a huge story. Something I have absolutely nothing to do with.”
He glares at me. “You lied to me. You fucking lied to my face at the gala. At the office. I asked you multiple times if you were fucking her. I gave you so many times to tell me the truth and you never did. So fuck you, Carson.”
“I love her, man. That’s why I never said anything. I love her. She is literally everything I have ever wanted. She treats me differently than anyone ever has. And she rescued me from Tiffany. Because she cared. And now this is how she repays me, writing an article that will destroy me.” My chest aches telling Owen the truth.
“I’ve always told you that you’ve had a choice, Carson. And you’ve always chosen the wrong fucking path and look where it led you. You are an asshole. And a prick. And you deserve whatever happens to you from that article being published.”
“I thought we were friends.”
“We were until you fucked my sister over. You are just like all the others. Fucking scum. You were like a brother to me and now you are nothing. I hope she publishes that article and you rot in prison just like the ones we defend.”
“Owen. I love her.”
“And so did all the others.” He glares at me, then stomps over and swings at me. I don’t even try to avoid it. I’ll gladly take the punch. I deserve it. Just like I told Grace.
His fist slams into my face, his knuckles hitting my eye. I stumble backward and catch myself on the island.
“Stay the fuck away from me and the fuck away from my sister.”
He storms out of my house with the same rage he came in with.
I slam my fist against the granite countertop and then cringe as the shock waves of pain go up my arm.
I pull open my freezer and grab a bag of frozen peas and hold it up to my face. I grab a bottle of cheap whiskey out of the cabinet and collapse onto my couch. I need to clear my mind of losing my best friend and losing Grace. I drink the entire bottle and pass out, knowing I am no doubt going to pay for it in the morning.
* * *
I feel about as good as I look this morning as I head into the office. My head is pounding from the whiskey and I might still be drunk. My eye has a swelling shiner on it. And the bags under my eyes are almost as bad as the black eye.
I walk past Owen’s office but the door is shut. I sigh as I walk the rest of the hall down to my office. I have no idea if Grace will be here or not. I don’t know why she would be. I kicked her out of my house and my life.
I open the door and set my briefcase down. I am tempted to pour whiskey into my coffee but I should probably hold off. I am just glad I don’t have court today. I don’t want to have to explain to the judge why I have a black eye.
I get to work and try to shut my brain off over thoughts of Owen, the article, and Grace. I clench my jaw and focus back on my computer screen. Not wanting to face the truth. Not wanting to think about how much longer I have here.
I should just put in my notice. Save the firm from as much backlash as possible. Even though I know it won’t help. They will be investigated. The FBI will be in everyone’s computers and files, checking to see how many people have bent the rules to win a case.
The sound of a knock on my door has me anticipating Grace. The look of annoyance on her face every time she came into work. Balancing my dry cleaning and both our coffees. I imagine her now handing me my coffee then stripping her coat off. Underneath, she has on that damn leather skirt and a see-through blouse. I bite my lip, imagining her. Remembering every inch of her and how she tasted.
But the memories fade quickly as one of the associates comes into my office. He drones on about how Owen told him to take up Grace’s workload and to come in here and get to work. Despite Owen wanting to murder me, at least he had the decency to look out for me.
The day goes by painfully slow. My fears growing. I have no idea when that article will publish. If it will take days or weeks. I don’t know how much time I have left of my freedom.
I texted Noah earlier and I know he could tell something was wrong. He told me to come over after work.
I stop by the liquor store on the way to his house and pick up more of that cheap whiskey I drank last night because I need something to numb the pain.
“What the fuck happened to you?” he asks me as I step out of the car. He is finishing up some yard work, by the looks of it.
I don’t even know where to start, so I just shake my head and plop onto the steps of his front porch. I open the whiskey and take a huge gulp as Noah kneels and works on the garden bed in front of the porch.
“Let me guess. Owen found out you were fucking his sister.”