“Now doesn’t seem like the time for a fist bump,” Rory said. “Just know I’m thinking it.”
“We kind of thought the two of you had finally figured everything out.” Jamie shook his head. “Guess we were way off.”
“Something like that,” Andrew muttered, weaving through his brothers toward the back room. He had no reason to go in there, but he collected two handfuls of white tape for the credit card machines and turned—but they blocked his way out of the office.
Rory kicked the door shut. “Just tell her about Dad, Andrew. I almost lost Olive because I was ashamed of my own violent past. Don’t make the same mistake.”
“Your victim survived, Rory. It’s a huge difference.”
They hadn’t actually made reference to Andrew’s crime out loud since the night it happened. Since he’d called his brothers home to find their hysterical mother and his clothes covered in blood.
“Don’t you think the circumstances would mean something to her?” Jamie asked. “I don’t think you’re giving her enough credit.”
“I’m giving her more than enough credit, Jamie. Because she would probably stick by me. She’s loyal to a fault and she’d have no choice. I’d be giving her no choice. Walking away from me would make her a disloyal friend and she doesn’t know how to be one. She’s Jiya. She’s everything good about everything. Don’t ever accuse me of not giving her enough credit.”
“Fine.” Jamie held up his hands. “So lose her forever? That’s the other option?”
“Sounds like it’s already done. Let me know where they register.”
Rory snorted. “Now you’re just being a stubborn prick.”
Yeah, he was. He heard it. But the resentment felt kind of magical at that very moment. It sewed up his ravaged guts with steel thread and hardened him, so he wouldn’t have to withstand the despair. Instead of an open wound, he could be a scab. An ugly one.
He was saved from any further conversation from his brothers when someone called for service out in the bar. Happy hour started and they didn’t get a moment’s peace for hours, filling drinks, sending orders to the kitchen, cleaning glasses as they went. Andrew could feel his brothers watching him, but he ignored it and kept checking the clock. He couldn’t be late tonight or Handler would twist the knife somehow. Hurt someone he loved—and Andrew’s one job was now to make sure that never happened.
As soon as the rush ebbed, Andrew snatched up his keys and got out of there. Rory and Jamie called after him, but he staved them off with a promise to talk more later.
He had a job to do.
*
The address brought Andrew to an underground parking garage in New Jersey.
Knowing he’d be driving back to Long Island in an unknown vehicle, he’d taken three trains to reach the location and a bus for the final stretch. When he saw the garage was abandoned in a neighborhood that could best be described as burned out, his instinct told him to turn back, but what choice did he have but to head inside? It was the middle of the night and apart from a couple of dying halogen lights, there was nothing to guide him forward, except his cell phone flashlight.
“Beautiful.”
With a sigh, Andrew trudged down the ramp, listening for voices. Anything that might clue him in that he wasn’t alone. He wouldn’t put it past Handler to send him all the way to New Jersey at one in the morning to test his dedication.
His footfalls echoed off the concrete walls and vermin scurried in the dark corners, but he kept going, only pausing when a lighter flickered up ahead—
Four sets of vehicle headlights came on at once, blinding him.
Andrew lifted a hand to block the bright onslaught, but the sudden flash had the effect of momentarily making everything so clear. Where he’d started and ended up. How differently things might have been. Through his exhaustion and grief over Jiya’s engagement, the fact that life could change directions so fast was stark and sickening.
That night, when he’d come home late and found his father halfway to killing their mother, he’d just—finally—gotten over his fear of losing Jiya as his best friend and decided to ask her out. They’d gone to see some action movie together, followed by a walk down the boardwalk and he’d wanted so badly to reach over and hold her hand. It had seemed like maybe she’d wanted it, too. She’d done that whole blushing, lip biting thing, hiding behind the fall of her hair and peeking over at him every couple seconds. God. God, she’d glowed that night and he’d thought, the hell with it. I’m going to ask her to be my girl.
He’d only been in love with her since the moment he saw her.
Andrew had pulled her to a stop on the boardwalk and blown out a half-laughing breath. She’d done the same, like she knew what was coming.