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“Oh. Oh, how the mighty fall.”
When Zoey punched me, I wanted to laugh. There was nothing remotely funny about it and there still isn’t, but the fact she had the stones to do that is admirable.
Everything about her is admirable.
And I screwed up. I know it.
Ryder holds up the new plans I’ve made, the ones I stayed up late into the night with tequila as my companion doing. I’ve had them printed and bound and I asked my brother to look at it. Something I never do.
Until now.
Funny how an ache in your chest and the quiet knowledge you screwed up massively can undermine confidence.
“Has she seen this?”
I’m about to say who, but Ryder isn’t an idiot. Even without the bruise on my cheek and my saying it was a girl, he’d guess.
“No, I don’t think she wants to see me.”
“Well, if it were me, I wouldn’t either.”
I point at him. Playing our games is easier than giving into the anger and pain that stalks my veins. I can separate myself from them because inside it’s not done with Zoey. It won’t be done until I let her know the plans.
“You’ve changed, Ry.”
“Being played the way I was has that effect.” Then he narrows his eyes. “Are you playing her with this?”
“Of course not.”
“Is it a game to win her or do you mean it?”
“You can go fuck yourself, Ryder. I did this for her.”
“Or,” he says, “you did this to make yourself feel better.”
“I know she’ll like it.”
“Is that enough?” My younger brother, the one who can’t keep it in his pants and doesn’t want to, is suddenly acting all mature. I suspect he’s playing his own game because we’re still waiting to hear how the emergency board meeting went. But then again, the family company means the most to him. And…
And I’m distracting myself. “You mean is that enough as in what I’ve done? The answer is yes. And the answer to the other question is this. Of course she’ll like it, Ryder.”
“Of course,” he says. “But are you willing to accept it if she won’t take you back?”
“I’m not trying to get with her. We’re from different worlds. And she’s not my type.”
My brother sighs. “I don’t know her. But I know you and you don’t have a type. It’s an anti type. Women who don’t mean anything beyond the sexual relationships.”
“Some of them are friends.”
“This Zoey, you like her. Some might suspect you love her, Mag. And if you’re doing this to play a game to get her, then you’re going to lose.”
“This is a little pot and kettle.”
“I know who and what I am. I play. But I understand people.”
I snatch the folder from my brother. “You’re wrong.”
And I head to the door. I might say wrong, but I’ve a horrible feeling he could be right.
