Page 72 of Billionaire Bad Boy Auction

I locked the door behind us just in case Seth did show up. I didn’t want his ass in my house.

I let her lead me back to her place, my mind racing. She disappeared into the kitchen, and a minute later, the sound of a kettle whistling cut through the silence.

When she returned, she handed me a mug of tea. “Here. I know it’s not bad ass whiskey, but it is calming. I won’t tell anyone you drank tea.”

I took it. “Thanks.”

I sat on the couch.

She sat beside me, close enough that our knees brushed. “You okay?”

I stared into the mug. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I let out a sharp breath. “What’s there to say? My brother’s an idiot. Always has been.”

“But you love him.”

I clenched my jaw. That was the problem, wasn’t it?

Portia’s hand settled on my leg. “Maybe this is what he needs,” she said softly. “A good lawyer can get him a deal. Community service, probation… it might be the wake-up call he’s been avoiding. He’s always managed to get out of trouble. I have a feeling these guys aren’t messing around this time. He went too far when he put a child at risk. Everyone at the festival, really.”

I knew she was right. I’d bail him out—again—pay for his lawyer—again—but maybe this time, it would stick. Maybe this time, he’d finally learn.

I looked up at her, really looked at her. No pity in her eyes. No judgment. Just quiet understanding.

“I’m glad you were with me tonight,” I said.

The words felt too raw, too exposed. I wasn’t used to admitting I needed anyone. But Portia didn’t call me out on it. She didn’t make it a big deal.

She just smiled softly and squeezed my hand. “Me too.”

“Do you believe me when I told them I don’t know where he is?”

“Yeah, Dean. I believe you.” She said it like it was simple, like there was no other answer. “You’re not the kind of guy who lies about stuff like that. You’d tell the cops to their faces if you were hiding him.”

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. Her faith in me shouldn’t have mattered as much as it did, but it did. “Thanks,” I muttered. I took a sip of the tea just to have something to do.

She leaned back against the couch, her shoulder brushing mine. “You know, you don’t have to carry everything by yourself. You can lean on people sometimes. It doesn’t make you weak.”

I snorted softly. “Easy for you to say. You’re not the one with a brother who’s always one step away from blowing up his life—and mine along with it.”

“Maybe,” she conceded. “But everyone has something. Or someone. And no one gets through it alone.”

I turned my head to look at her again. There was something about the way she said it—like she wasn’t just talking about me and Seth. Like she was speaking from experience.

I thought about arguing with her and telling her I had been getting through life on my own for almost thirty-five years. My parents didn’t count as anyone to lean on. And Seth sure as hell didn’t. I had me and me alone to lean on.