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Connor’s brow furrows slightly.

“Coming here,” I continue, choking the words past the lump in my throat. “Letting you take care of me. Letting myself get comfortable here. Letting you think…” I swallow hard. “Letting you think this was more than friendship.”

“It was more than friendship to me.”

“I know.” My voice breaks. “And that’s the problem.”

He takes a step toward me, and I instinctively move backward. “I should have seen it… and been clearer. I should have stopped this before it got here.” I wipe at the tears gathering in my eyes. “You were kind to me when I needed someone. You gave me somewhere safe to hide when I had nowhere else. I’ll always be grateful for that.”

“Then stay.” The quiet desperation in his voice nearly breaks me.

I close my eyes for a second and take a slow, deep breath. “I can’t. Part of me will always love you, Connor. But I can’t let you think we could become what we were… because we can’t.”

“Because of him?”

“No,” I breathe. “Because of me. Because no matter how badly he hurt me, I still love him.”

Connor looks away, his jaw tightening as he absorbs the answer.

“I’m sorry… so sorry,” I mutter, making my way out of the kitchen. “I’m gonna go.”

The low hum of conversation at The Sterling is a familiar balm, a ritual I’ve fallen into since Sophia left. Every day I bury myself in work until my mind is numb, then I spend my nights seeking the temporary anesthesia of bourbon, while my brothers and I continue our search for her. As I swirl the amber liquid in my glass, it catches the dim lights of the bar before I bring it to my lips. I take a sip, and it burns down my throat to the hollow ache of my chest.

“You look like shit,” Kaden announces, taking a seat beside me. He’s always been the bluntest of us all. Leaning back against the tufted leather in the booth, he swallows a shot from his glass before adding, “This moping is getting old, Vance.”

I don’t bother with a response. Trying to explain the gravity of my situation would be better understood by a brick wall than my dense-as-fuck brother. Not that I would’ve comprehended any of this two months ago myself.

“Have you called Kiki?” Beckett asks from across the table.

“Yes, Beck.” I laugh bitterly. “Every fucking day.”

“And today?”

I stare down at my drink, watching the ice shift against the glass. “Same as the day before and the day before that. She says she doesn’t know where Sophia is.”

Beckett studies me. “You believe her?”

“No. Not at all.” I tighten my grip on the glass. “Whatever she knows, she isn’t talking.”

“Then make her talk. Do something that will force her to,” Kaden insists as he leans forward, his eyes sharp and calculating in a way that’s all business. “Something to force Sophia to come out of hiding and back to you.”

“Like what?” I ask snidely, unable to hide my annoyance.

“Kierra’s tuition.” He pauses briefly to take another sip of his drink. “Pull it. Cut her off. Sophia will come running when her sister can’t afford that fancy college anymore.”

My head snaps up as my fingers grip the glass so tightly in my palm it might shatter. “No.”

“It’s the perfect leverage,” Kaden presses, oblivious to the storm brewing in my brain. “She’ll have no choice but to contact you, to beg you⁠—”

“I’m not pulling her fucking tuition,” I snarl, violently slamming my glass down on the table. Bourbon splashes over the rim and splatters across the dark wood. “I’m not using her sister⁠—”

“Sure you can,” Kaden scoffs, waving a dismissive hand. “It’s a business transaction, Vance. Not a personal attack.”

“No, you big fucking lug,” Baldwin interjects, his deep voice calm but firm. “He can’t do that to her.”

Kaden turns to him, confusion etched in his features. “Why the hell not? It’s the most logical way to⁠—”

“Because he loves her, you fucking idiot,” Beckett cuts in, looking at me with an expression full of sympathy. “He can’t hurt her like that, not even to get her back.”