Reconcile by Nicole Dykes

 

My brother sitsacross from me in the fancy restaurant where we’re having lunch, dressed nicely in his button-down dress shirt and perfectly tailored slacks. But I’m in a suit and tie, determined not to be the baby of the family and to have Cole see me as the man I fucking am.

Of course, Cole isn’t really one to give a damn what I’m wearing.

“You look good, little brother. All grown up.”

Okay, scratch that. I guess he does.

“Right. Thanks.” I take a drink from my scotch and feel his eyes tracking me. I lift my eyebrow in annoyance. “What?”

“It’s a little early for scotch, isn’t it?”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes because Cole is the closest thing to an ally I have in my family. “Not really. You should try it. I find it makes the day go by much faster.”

His lips purse as he takes a drink of his water, his gold wedding band catching my eye. Cole is married. He’s the only one of the four of us I expect ever will be.

I put my drink down and nod toward his ring. “So, Oliver is still putting up with you?”

His lips turn up as he looks contentedly at his ring. “Of course. How could he resist?”

There’s that Ross family arrogance.

“That would be impossible.”

Our food is placed before us, but before I can dig in, my brother grows serious. “You shouldn’t be working for Lincoln Sterling. You should be working with us.”

Us.

My stomach sours, thinking about my oldest brother, Spencer. That motherfucker. I don’t know if it’s the ten years between us or if everyone is right when they say we’re too much alike, but we’ve never gotten along.

“No.” I say simply as I take a bite and chew, not offering more.

Cole has always been in between us and not just by age. For whatever reason, he’s tried to be the peacekeeper, but it doesn’t work. Our sister, Samantha, couldn’t give a fuck, but Cole cares.

“Just no?”

“Just. No.” I shrug my shoulders, silently hoping he’ll let it drop as I take another drink of my scotch.

He watches me, not moving, and I see the familiar disappointment in his eyes as he sighs heavily, “Spencer has changed, Sawyer. A lot.”

I snort and put my drink back down. “You really don’t have to bullshit me. It wouldn’t matter to me if he has. I like working for Linc.”

“You’re a Ross, not a Sterling.”

My shoulders straighten as I look into his eyes, knowing it hurts him. The truth is, I never wanted to be a Ross. Our father is a complete asshole, and so is Spencer. Cole is serious but kind, but he’s still way too serious. So is Samantha. And our mother.

I never fit in with them. Always laughing and joking around. Being totally inappropriate and embarrassing the family name.

When I befriended Asher Sterling at a young age, something fit. And it’s not at all that his family wasn’t like mine. In fact, our fathers are good friends.

But instead of worshipping their father, Ash and Linc hate him.

The Sterlings have their darkness, but the Rosses are plain blackness. Ruthless and wicked.

Cole sits stiffly. “Our father has no spot in our business. None. It’s only us.”

I don’t tell him it’s exactly the same thing because Cole and Spencer may as well be my father when it comes to business. Cutthroat.

“I’m here because you asked me to lunch. To catch up. Not so you could try to lure me to the dark side.”

He snorts this time and shakes his head. “You think we’re darker than the Sterlings?”

I know they are. Lincoln is a surly motherfucker, but he has a heart. Especially now that he’s pussy-whipped.

“Next topic,” I try. “How’s my nephew and niece?”

He cocks his head to the side and then shakes it off. “Growing fast. You haven’t seen them since they were in diapers.”

“They aren’t anymore?”

His eyes roll with irritation, and I smile. They’re ten and eight. I know they’re out of diapers, but it’s still fun to fuck with my brother. “No, asshole. And they ask about you sometimes.”

I swallow, trying to suppress my guilt. I’ve never liked kids. When Cole and Oliver announced they were adopting the first time, I cringed. When they adopted their second child, I told them I’d pray for them if I prayed. They weren’t amused.

And I’d held strong on the whole not liking kids thing until I met Sebastian, or Baz as we call him. I smile, thinking about that little shit. The kid of Vivienne Crenshaw—now Sterling. She and I had a thing a couple of years ago before Asher and she finally got it together and got married.

They were the ones who were in love, but I wanted so fucking desperately to feel something—anything—for another human.

In the end, Asher got the girl, and rightfully so. But Baz . . . That kid nestled himself in my black heart. I couldn’t resist his playful spirit and cuteness. He couldn’t pronounce my name and ended up calling me ‘Swearer,’ which is all too fucking fitting since I can’t, for the life of me, clean up my language even around the kid.

But I try.

Thankfully, I live pretty close to Ash, Viv, and Baz’s house. And for whatever reason, they trust me to hang out with them and the kid. I almost fucked up the only true friendship I had with Asher, but somehow I got a family.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been around.”

“You’ve been too busy playing Sterling.”

My gaze hardens. “Watch it. They’ve been the only family I’ve had.”

“And whose fault is that?”

I place my napkin on the table, tired of this lunch. “I just remembered I have an errand.”

“Don’t leave. Just think about it, okay? Even Samantha works there now. It’s a family business, but it’s missing one link.”

I roll my eyes and stand, buttoning my suit jacket. “Yeah well, I heard you acquired a Ward.”

His eyes flicker with recognition as he stands, placing his napkin on the table. “Piper is my friend.”

I laugh because that’s ridiculous. “Piper left town right after graduation. No fucking way you two were friends.”

“We are now.”

I step closer to him. “When she started working for you?”

“Before. I offered her the job. She’s well-qualified, and she’s changed a hell of a lot too.”

I don’t want to talk about Piper. I don’t want to think about Piper. Or the fact that she works for my family.

For Spencer.

“I need to go.”

He looks down at the floor, and then, taking a deep breath and releasing it, he looks back at me. “You should come by. See what you could claim. It’s rightfully yours too.”

“I don’t want anything to do with it.”

“So, maybe you need some closure, little brother.” I look into his eyes, seeing the concern there. “And I think she does too.”

Piper.

“No.” I toss a hundred on the table and turn to leave.

“Think about it,” is all I hear as I leave to claim my car from the valet. Hopping behind the wheel, I head toward my house. The house bought and paid for with Ross money.

I’d love to say I did it all on my own, but it’s all bullshit.

I was born a Ross, and I’ll die a Ross.