Yours to Keep by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Thirteen

Vance

Why isit that Darren gets on my fucking nerves every time? Like seriously, dude, get a grip. I don’t want to talk to you. He compared me to a fucking yellow lab. What is a Labradoodle? And that comment about the room service? I’m not sure if he realizes that whatever he says in town gets posted on social media within seconds.

At least he didn’t say anything about the romantic dinner he promised last night—our second date. We haven’t had a first date.

Is he for real?

This would be an excellent moment to record a day in the life of Vance. I’ll show it to Dr. Sanders. He thinks everything that happens to me should bring different emotions. Darren Russell keeps pissing me off. That only causes me to get angry. No. Fucking angry.

Sure, he’s hot in a Patrick Dempsey kind of way. It’s freaking hilarious that the guy is also a neurosurgeon. No one should judge me for knowing a little pop culture. Also, Leyla is the one who brought that up last week, after she met him.

One of the things I find tedious about him is his flirting. He teases me every time he has a chance to touch me or just say something completely inappropriate.

I should be on the lookout for him every time I’m walking around town so I can avoid him. Since Hayes lets him take his daily run on our property, I changed my daily schedule. What else is he going to fuck up?

One of these days, the nonsense he says is going to fuck with my life. I’ll have to kill him and bury him under a rock.

When I arrive at The Lodge, the person at the front desk greets me, “Good Morning, Mr. Aldridge.”

“Hey,” I answer and walk toward my office.

Well, that room shouldn’t be called an office. It’s a conference room that’s been going through several changes. Pierce and Henry transformed it into offices when we first arrived. After each one moved to their private office, they put it back as a conference room. The day I asked for an office, they transformed it again. Like them, I should do what my brothers did and buy a house. I’d have some privacy and a home office where no one will interrupt me.

Of course, I’ll have issues with Henry, who’ll say that as head security for all the businesses he owns, plus his hotels, I should be here all the time. I’m not a robot.

There are days he makes me feel like a mall cop. That should be over once we meet all the stipulations. But then what am I supposed to do with my life?

I hate not knowing my next move. It irritates me to no end. If only I could let out all the energy that’s stuck in my body. I need a fucking outlet. It makes me want to jump out of my skin or run away from this town. According to the wheel of emotions, that’s not a feeling, just a state of mind. I bought a book about emotions that’s helping me understand the nonsense.

Well, I use the word understand as a loose term.

I can’t comprehend shit. It’s like a different language. One that’s spoken in a galaxy far, far away.

When I open the door of my office, Pierce is there, waiting for me. Would it be okay if I shot him?

“Yeah?” I ask instead of greeting him.

“Are you okay?”

I glare at him. He could’ve asked me that at home. “Why does everyone ask that question over and over again? Do you really want to know, or is that just some polite way to greet me?”

“So, you’re having a bad day. I’m asking because you’re fuming. The signs are right there. Flaring nostrils, smoke coming out of your ears”—he pauses and waves his fingers around his ears, laughing—“And bulging eyes.”

I glare at him. “You’re not funny.”

He smirks. “I think I am. You just don’t like to admit it. As an added bonus for my own amusement, everything I say upsets you. I have fun with that.”

Pierce walks closer to me and pats my shoulder. “So, what’s happening with you? I know you don’t like us to ask, but we’re all concerned about you.”

“I’m fine.”

“Dude, you killed your ex a few weeks ago. That’s not okay.”

I blink a couple of times. We already had this conversation seven times.

Seven.

Yes. I’m counting them. I’m unclear on why he does it, though. Is this his way of saying I fucking care about you? If so, I don’t like it.

“Why is everyone obsessed with that? We slept together. He’s dead. It’s time to move on.” I pause, study him for a minute and say, “Is this a lawyer thing?”

“What?” He gives me a confused look.

“Badgering the witness until he says what you want to hear?”

He laughs and shakes his head. “Denial.”

“I’m not in denial. It was him or Grace. I chose her. If she had died, Beacon would be devastated. Plus, the asshole was trying to kill my family, and then me.” I point my index finger at him and pretend to pull the trigger. “Pow. Pierce and family are gone. The end.”

“Sure, but how do you feel about that? The man you shared your bed with tried to kill you and your family. Leyla’s dad killed all his family and then himself. Leyla was fucked up for years. Years. We’re concerned about you.”

I stare at him. I saw the police report. I’m aware of everything that happened to his wife. She was a kid when her father committed a double homicide, and he turned the gun on himself. If it wasn’t for her dog, Leyla would be dead.

Maybe Darren Russell isn’t wrong. I’m a fucking dog that would catch a bullet because he’s too fucking loyal. I’ve done it plenty of times. That still doesn’t make me feel anything about what happened with Bennett. The wheel of emotions isn’t giving me an answer either. I bet if I pull it right now, it’ll say what I already know.

I’m fucking dead inside.

Emotionless.

Angry.

“Everyone is different,” I say, as if those three words might be the key to shut him up.

“I agree, but still, that’s daunting, heart-wrenching, and fucked up,” he insists. “I want to believe that you’re okay, but I can’t just let things go because what if I do and then…”

“Then what?” I want him to finish. Then I raise my voice, challenging him. “What are you afraid is going to happen?”

“I don’t fucking know.” His voice is as loud as mine. “But I don’t want to lose you. Carter died, Beacon almost died. I don’t want to go through that again. You’re a pain in the ass, but you’re my brother. We’re finally becoming a family.” He tosses his hands up in the air, and now his voice is so loud I bet anyone in The Lodge can hear him.

The door to my office opens. It’s Henry barging in and joining Pierce. Can I shoot them?

“We can hear your voice all the way to the lobby, and though I agree, none of us want to lose Vance. I’d appreciate it if you can keep your voice down.”

“Why are you here?”

He shows me his phone. “Apparently, we’re providing a new service in this hotel. Room service for our male guests.”

There’s a picture of me talking to Darren Russell on social media. The caption reads, Army Brother provides one-on-one services to our guests. Is it only for the male guests or should I be booking a room too?

I groan and shiver because ew. “You gotta be shitting me. That woman could be my mother.”

My brothers don’t miss the chance to laugh at me. Sadly, this is what we do. We make fun of each other. This time, I’m on the receiving end, and nothing I do scares them.

Henry sobers up and clears his throat. “Listen, I’m here to support you, but if you can tell me what these new services include and how much we’ll be charging so we can make a pamphlet, I’ll appreciate it.”

“What the fuck, Henry?”

“I know a good photographer who could take a few pictures of him. Abs sell a lot more, or so I’ve heard,” Pierce adds.

“I swear you two are dead.”

They look at each other and shake their heads. “No. We’re still alive,” Pierce says. “You, on the other hand…well, you’re part of the walking dead.”

“Living dead,” Henry corrects him.

Pierce shrugs one shoulder. “Does it matter?”

“Would you like to discuss what’s happening?” Henry turns his attention toward me. “I’m glad that you and the good doctor are enjoying our new bedding, but maybe you’d like to keep it low-key. Is that why you got him the presidential suite last week and paid for it?”

He wiggles his eyebrows. “You like to fuck with style.”

“That’s not what happened,” I say, flustered.

“Anna Tattle might be a big gossip, but she always publishes truths. Or so she says,” Henry insists.

“She got things out of context,” I argue. “She was misinformed.”

“Well, the walls in this building are thin. Everyone can hear what’s happening in this hotel. E-e-e-e-e.” Pierce makes bed-creaking noises.

“Seriously?” I glare at him.

“He’s right, stop. Those beds are new. They don’t make any noise while you’re fucking.”

“I swear if you two don’t leave right now, I’m going to kill you.”

“See, he can get angry and shit, but he can’t cry after the love of his life tried to kill us.”

“You need to stop assuming. I’m fine.”

“You know what’s the first clue to let us know that you’re not fine? That you keep repeating the word again and again. I wish you were at least fucking your feelings away with someone, but you don’t.”

I decide to walk away before I punch either one of them.

On my way out of The Lodge, I come face-to-face with him. This is all his fault.

“Uh-oh, who upset you?”

I glare at him.

“Oh, you already saw the social media post.” He smirks. “You have to admit. It’s kind of funny.”

“I need to get the fuck out of this town.” Forever, I don’t say.

“Well, I have a solution for you. Can you fly me to Portland?” he dares to ask for a favor after the fucking day I’m having.

What does he need now? A coffee maker, Egyptian cotton towels, or a mug for his coffee?

“No.”

“There’s an accident on the highway. I have to be at Portland Medical. They need me for a consultation. Hayes said you would fly me.”

“Fuck,” I mouth. “Fine, let’s go.”

“I need to go home to grab my things. It won’t take me long.” He winks at me. “You can always join me.”

This is probably going to go up on social media too. I have to get rid of him. What if I push him out of the helicopter on our way to Portland? Oops, he wasn’t wearing a seat belt.