Page 27 of The Billionaire's Angel

“Exactly. Cooper and Evers both agree it feels like it has their father's fingerprints all overit.”

I dropped my head in frustration. “Shit,” I said. “If Maxwell Sinclair hid the baby, we’rescrewed.”

“They're all on it,” Aiden said. “Cooper, Evers, Knox, even Axel. There taking it personally, not that they weren't before. They're going to find him. It's just a matter oftime.”

“Is it possible we’re stirring things up by looking into it?” Iasked.

“Anything's possible,” Aidensaid.

“We have to keep looking,” I said, stating the obvious. We'd lost enough family as it was. If there was another one of us out there, we had to track himdown.

“Agreed. I'm leaving this morning for a business trip,” Aiden said, changing the subject. “I won't be back until Sunday evening. I'm sure you won't need anything, but if anything happens, callCooper.”

I stared at him, his words leaving me speechless. If anything happened, he wanted me to call Cooper Sinclair and not him. Hard not to see that as a slap across the face. But worse, he was leaving? The next day was the anniversary of his parents’ murder, and he wasleaving?

“You're leaving on a business trip? Through the weekend?” I couldn't quite bring myself to call him out, but Aiden knew what I was gettingat.

He turned away, not meeting my eyes, and went back to straightening the papers on his desk. “Is that a problem?” he asked, in his iciestvoice.

“No, fine. Whatever.” What was I supposed tosay?

Yes, it's a big fucking problem. It's the first year I've been home on the anniversary since they died and you’re fucking takingoff.

Was this betrayal and abandonment the way Aiden had felt when I left? I should be over it by now. Thirteen years had passed since my aunt and uncle had died. More than enough time to process everything—their deaths, the part I’d played. I’d thought I was past it. Being home, surrounded by memories of my parents and Aiden's, I knew I wasn't evenclose.

I wasn't going to argue with Aiden about his travel plans. Instead, I decided to take a shot at mending the rift betweenus.

“Are we ever going to talk about it?” I asked, trying to keep my voice level, though I couldn't help the thread of challenge that wound through mywords.

Aiden's eyes flashed with anger, and maybe something else, maybe hurt, before he said, “There's nothing to talk about, Gage. You left. Now you’rehome.”

I resisted the urge to be a smart-ass and said, “If there's nothing to talk about then why do you keep shutting me out? I know I shouldn't have left. I know I walked out on all of you, and it was a shitty thing todo.”

Looking carefully over my shoulder, at me but not meeting my eyes, Aiden said, “Water under the bridge. It's been a long time. No need to talk about itnow.”

“I think we do. We used to be friends, Aiden. Now you'll barely look atme.”

Aiden picked up a pen and drew a stack of papers in front of him. He couldn't have been more clear about wanting me to leave if he’d walked me to the doorhimself.

I knew how to take a hint, but I was also good at ignoring them when I wanted to. I stayed where I was, sitting in the chair across from his desk, and stared himdown.

Finally, he said, “I don't know what you want from me, Gage. We're not kids anymore. You left. My parents were dead, the kids were crying themselves to sleep at night, no one knew what the fuck was going on, and you just disappeared. Fine, I get it. I got it back then. You felt too guilty to stay, and you had to get out of this house. I understand. But it doesn't change the fact that you've been gone over a decade. Coming home for a few days here and there doesn't make up for that, and you can't just move back in and think it's all going to go back to how itwas.”

Aiden always knew how to hit where it hurt. He was right. About everything. After the night Uncle Hugh and Aunt Olivia were murdered, I'd been steeped in guilt, drowning in it. I couldn't face my family. I couldn't facemyself.

I’d left to escape. To spare them the sight of me, the reminder that I’d let them die. I wondered if it would be better if I were gone. My stomach turned over, my breakfast curdling in a wave of nausea. I didn’t want to leave again. I wanted to be here, in Winters House. I wanted my familyback.

I stood. Talking to Aiden wasn't getting me anywhere. He wasn't ready to give me a chance, and I couldn't force him to. Maybe we'd be better off if we just avoided each other for awhile.

“I’ll let you get back to work then,” I said. I thought Aiden was going to ignore my retreat, but he looked up and met my eyes, his own deadlyserious.

“I meant what I said. Stay away fromSophie.”

I gave him a sharp nod, turned on my heel, and left, closing the door behindme.

A lot of things about being back in this house reminded me of the days when Aiden and I had been tighter than brothers, but nothing so much as the overwhelming desire to slam my fist into hisface.

Most of the time, we’d gotten along in an almost scary synchronicity, knowing what the other was thinking before he had to speak. That didn't mean we didn't fight. We fought over big stuff, over stupid shit. When we were seven, and when we were seventeen, Aiden and I had been responsible for our share of bloodied noses and bruisedknuckles.