The last three weeks had given him a lot of time to realize he didn’t care about the story. Although she should have told him about it, she was right—he’d signed the contract. It was dumb to do it, but he was used to Sean looking out for him. It never occurred to Corey that Sean would let him make a dumb decision if he didn’t represent him. He also couldn’t deny the truth of the fact that if she’d had asked him to write an article on him, he wouldn’t have hesitated to say yes.
Plus, it became abundantly clear to him when she shattered her computer that she was not okay. Thinking back, he’d seen signs all along that she was struggling, but he hadn’t recognized them until she imploded.
“Never said I didn’t love her.” Corey sighed and shut his eyes.
“So do something.” The frustrated edge in Will’s voice made Corey’s hands fist.
“What, Will? Beg her to love me back? I can’t help that I fell in love while she was hanging out with me so she could write a story.”
Grant cleared his throat loudly and moved from his corner to sit next to Corey. “I remember this feeling, man. A little pissed off and a whole lot hurt.”
Corey grunted.
“You led the charge when I needed to get my head out of my ass and not let Trish go, right?” The corner of Grant’s mouth turned up in an almost smile. “Because when you can’t tell your ass from your elbow, that’s what family does—”
“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, and I’m glad you guys let me be a part of family stuff—”
“Let you?” Will snapped. “Jesus, Cor.” He shook his head.
Nick put his hand on Will’s shoulder.
“He’s not going to hear this from you, Will. You’re his best friend. He expects you to say it.” Nick stepped toward the sofa and glared down at Corey. “Listen to me, though. We don’t let you be a part of anything. You are a part of this family, and you have been for more than twenty years. You,” Nick pointed his finger at Corey, “are as much my brother as the asshole sitting next to you.”
The echoes of “same” from all the brothers around the room formed a lump in Corey’s throat. He looked from Nick to Grant, then Will, Luke, Danny, and Joey. Finally, his eyes fell on Marc, who gave him a firm nod. Corey had spent a lifetime looking for a family when he’d been a part of one the entire time. He’d always thought of them as his family—his brothers, and he needed to stop letting his self-doubt keep him on the outside. He could see in each of these guys’ expressions that they meant it. He’d long ago become an Evans.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks.”
“Oh, I’m not done,” Nick demanded, and Corey’s eyes shot back to the intense slate gaze boring into him. “What did you tell me when I didn’t know what was going on with Morgan?”
Corey couldn’t hold Nick’s eyes, and he stared at the stone coffee table.
“Not going to answer? Fine, I’ll remind you.” His voice was steel. “You told me to talk to her, because if I didn’t admit how I felt and figure shit out, I’d be watching her with someone else. Is that what you want?”
Corey swallowed hard.
“I’ve said this a few times now, but if you want this to work, you have to stop being the one to walk away, Corey,” Marc said from across the room.
“I saw her the other day,” Danny said.
Corey’s entire body locked. Where the hell had Danny seen her? What was he doing with her? But suddenly, a calm washed over him. He relaxed into the leather sectional behind him. Danny wasn’t going after Taran any more than Corey would go after Danny’s girl. He trusted him.
“How is she?” he croaked.
“It was just in passing. I was on my way to get checked out after the fire last week.” Danny shrugged.
“You good?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, just procedural because the entire family died. They like to make sure we’re handling our feelings on it.” Danny frowned. “But anyway, I saw her in the parking lot. She looked sad, Cor.”
Corey gritted his teeth. “I get that you all mean well. And I hate hearing she’s upset.” He cracked his neck. “But here’s the thing; I’m not the one who can fix this.”
He heard the soft sound of a throat clearing, and he glanced behind him toward the entrance to the foyer.
Beth stood next to Sean. His eyes flitted around the room before he looked to his feet. His former agent rocked back on his heels, looking uncomfortable, a few sheets of paper in his hand.
“Sean’s looking for approval for the article,” Beth said.
“I’ve left a few messages, but you aren’t returning calls. I figured I’d try Beth and Marc.” Sean scanned the room again.