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That’s all he says, and I don’t know if he means it as you really fucked up or a show of sympathy, but it hurts either way. Because damn.
“So, what’s your plan?” he asks.
“Wallow my way through the hard part, I guess,” I reply. “It’ll go away eventually, right?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in love. Do you want it to go away?”
Fuck no.
“What choice do I have?” I ask as I take a sip of the coffee.
“I think that’s pretty obvious.”
Is it?
“Sadie left because I’ll never measure up to the man she deserves. She’s literally better off without me,” I say.
“No, she left because you care about your work more than her.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“Isn’t it? You’re still going to England. You denied a relationship with her to save your job. Luke, you’re a genius, but not when it comes to relationships. If you want Sadie back, then you need to show her that she means more than your job.”
Setting the cup down on the table, I bury my hands in my hair. “You don’t get it. My work is my whole life. My work is who I am.”
Isaac doesn’t speak for a moment and when I look up at him, I notice the tight-lipped way he’s holding back.
“What? Say it,” I mutter.
“Don’t get mad at me,” he replies.
My brows pinch inward as I glare at him. “No promises.”
With a sigh, he shrugs. “Fine. I was just going to say…this whole workaholic thing you have reminds me of someone.”
“Who—”
I don’t even get the question out before I realize, and it steals the air from my lungs. Not because he’s being cruel or mean but because he’s right.
Our father.
He always put his work before us. It was what defined him. His legacy was his everything. He was Icarus who flew too close to the sun, and while we all reveled in watching him burn, it was too late. The damage was done.
Our entire childhood was tainted by the way he treated us. All of us. And while I’ve hated him more than anyone on this earth, it didn’t stop me from following in his footsteps.
“I’m sorry. You okay?” my brother asks with a wince.
“No,” I groan as my head falls forward. “I just realized I’m no better than Truett Goode, and I need a minute.”
Isaac slaps a hand on my back. “Well, that’s not entirely true,” he says with a laugh. “You’re not a hypocritical, self-indulgent homophobe.”
“No, but I don’t want to end up like him.”
“What, in prison?”
“No,” I reply. “Alone.”
“Well then, I think you have some groveling to do.”
