Love Next Door (Lakeside #1) by Helena Hunting

My dad lives outside the city in a massive two-story home. Teagan still lives in the main house, but Bradley took over the pool house a few years ago. I was the only one who moved out and got my own place. I don’t think Teagan necessarily wants to stay in the house; it’s more that she doesn’t want to leave our dad alone in a huge house that’s full of memories of our mother.

“Honestly? The only thing I miss about being here is you.”

She nods. “I can see that. Pearl Lake is full of such good memories and great people.”

“It really is.” I pull off the freeway and drive down familiar streets, back to the house I grew up in. It’s been months since I’ve been home, and I realize I don’t miss this place at all. In fact, as soon as I pull into the driveway, I can feel the shackles of a past none of us can ever seem to escape locking me back in.

“You ready to do this?” I ask Teagan as I park beside my brother’s ostentatious car.

“As ready as I can be. You?”

“Same.”

We both sigh and get out of the car, closing our doors in tandem. We fall into step beside each other. The front door is huge and black with a wrought iron design set in the center. The redbrick face of the house is elegant and gorgeous, but even from the outside, I know it’s a pretty shell without a heart.

She punches in the code and lets herself in. “Dad?”

“I’m in my office!”

We find him sitting behind his desk, bifocals halfway down his nose, a stack of papers in front of him, his computer screen glowing. Over the years his shoulders have started to round from all the time he spends sitting behind a desk. It’s nine o’clock and still he’s working, and it’s exactly what he’ll do until he’s too tired to keep his eyes open. Despite the late hour, and the fact that he’s in his own house, he’s still wearing a suit. His salt-and-pepper hair is cut short and styled neatly. He looks put together, but it’s a veneer. I can see myself in him, and what my future might look like if I ever choose to follow in his footsteps—a sad, lonely man.

He smiles when I appear behind Teagan. “Donovan! I didn’t know you were here. It’s great to have you home. Are you staying for a while?” He stands and walks around his desk, pulling me into a hug.

“Uh, probably not. Is Bradley home?”

“I think so. Is everything okay?” His brow furrows, and he looks from me to Teagan and back again. “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, and I don’t think you’re going to be particularly happy about it.”

Teagan and I sit him down and show him what we’ve found. The offshore accounts set up in my name, half the money from the foundation already gone, frittered away in a matter of months. The forged signatures, the fraudulent accounts.

“How do you want to handle this, Dad?” Teagan asks softly.

He leans back in his chair and scrubs a palm over his face. This conversation seems to have aged him five years in the span of half an hour. It can’t be easy to be in his shoes, finding out one of his children tried and succeeded to frame his other son.

“I’ve bailed Bradley out more times than I can count. And maybe that was where I went wrong.” He sighs. “I can’t help him out of this one. He’s going to have to face the consequences of his actions.”

Dad reaches for his phone and calls Bradley up to the house.

He strolls into Dad’s office five minutes later, dressed like he’s about to hit the club. His eyes flare when he sees Teagan and me. “What’s going on?”

“You should have a seat.” Dad motions to the empty chair.

“I’m on my way out.” Bradley thumbs over his shoulder, eyes darting back to me as he takes a cautious step toward the door he just walked through.

“Your plans for the evening have changed, I’m afraid.”

Dad turns the laptop around to show Bradley what we all know: that he’s a thief and a liar. Bradley’s expression shutters, and he crosses his arms. “What is this?”

“Based on the number of forged checks and fake accounts, I would call it fraud.” Dad laces his fingers together and folds them on his desk. “Why would you do this to your own family, Bradley?”

“Where should I start? How about when you lied and said Bee’s cottage was worth jack shit and let her hand over what could be worth millions to your golden child? Or maybe we should talk about the way you’ve been pissing away our money ever since Mom died on frivolous purchases you don’t need. The house is mortgaged to the rafters. There’ll be nothing left in a decade.” He flails a hand around. “Or all that money sitting in a damn foundation, and for what? A tax shelter for money we don’t even have. I realized a long time ago that you’re going to leave me with nothing but debt, so I took matters into my own hands. I wanted my inheritance before there wasn’t anything left to inherit. Work smarter, not harder, Dad.”

“You’re a selfish bastard,” Teagan snaps.

“And you’re his damn lapdog!” Bradley says, motioning to our dad. “It’s pathetic the way you’re always pandering to whatever Dad wants. Taking care of him like he’s already an invalid. Staying in this stupid house, and for what?” His angry gaze shifts to Dad. “It’s not like any of us are going to get anything when you finally kick the bucket. You’re a walking corpse. You stopped living as soon as Mom died; you just don’t have the decency to do yourself in. Instead you bury yourself in work! Money is the only thing left you can give us, and you don’t even have any to give.”