Total pages in book: 171
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 164705 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 824(@200wpm)___ 659(@250wpm)___ 549(@300wpm)
Chapter Seventy-Four
Oliver
Briar didn’t know that I’d canceled the ski resorts in Dubai and Palm Springs. And because the “lobotomy” truly had done wild things to my brain, I ditched work earlier and rushed back to tell her.
She should’ve been back from her baking date with Dallas – whatever that was – by now, hopefully waiting for me in the bedroom in nothing but her birthday suit.
The image I’d conjured – of Briar patting my head like a parent slapping a gold-star sticker on their child’s workbook – quickened my pulse. It thrummed so hard, I could feel it at my neck.
The faster I drove, the more ridiculous I found this whole ordeal. It wasn’t as if I’d spent my childhood starved of affection. Mom praised me for the mere feat of existence, which if you thought about it, was a total self-compliment. And Dad had his ways of showing his pride in me and Seb.
But I wanted it from her.
My girl.
I wanted to hear her praise, see her smile, and bask in the glow of her approval. Fucking sue me.
The car barely screeched to a halt before I thundered out of it, straight up to our bedroom we’d shared since leaving New York. (I really did hope she’d be waiting for me naked on our bed.)
Alas, no such luck. I weaved in and out of my office, the library, and the two guestrooms upstairs. All empty.
I fished out my phone, shooting Dallas a text, knowing Briar sucked at answering – and using technology in general. She’d always been a boomer trapped in a younger body.
Ollie vB: Where’s my fiancée?
Dallas Costa: I ate her. Sorry. :/
Ollie vB: Jokes aren’t supposed to be so realistic.
Dallas Costa: She left my place half an hour ago. Is she okay?
Ollie vB: I’m sure it’s nothing.
I switched over to the security app, sliding the timer back thirty minutes. Normally, I didn’t bother to use it, mostly because I wouldn’t put it past my brother to leave me nasty footage doing god-knows-what out by the lake.
The outdoor cameras confirmed that she’d certainly entered the home, but I’d searched everywhere. So, unless she jumped through one of the windows – unlikely, it was a tall fucking house – she had to still be here.
But where?
My blood ran cold, freezing into icicles in my veins.
No.
No fucking way.
She wouldn’t.
But of course, she would. She wasn’t Briar Rose. She was Briar. And Briar was nothing like the girl I once left behind. She wielded a wild rebellious streak and didn’t take kindly to people telling her what to do.
I rushed to the first baby gate of the south wing, my heart in my goddamn throat. The violent pitter-patter would lead to a heart attack if I didn’t stop to take a breath. This shouldn’t have scared me. Seb wouldn’t hurt her. He knew I’d destroy him if he did.
Still, my knees fucking trembled as I hurled my way to the second baby gate as if my ass was on fire. I nearly ripped it out of the wall on my quest to open it. I stalked deeper into Sebastian’s wing, just short of the bend into his living room.
Then, I heard it.
Laughter.
Not just any laughter.
Sebastian’s laughter.
A sound so rare, so beautiful, so fucking foreign to my own ears at this point, my kneejerk reaction was to think I’d imagined it.
I stopped mid-step, panting hard, swallowing my breaths in a bid to listen.
“… I would literally cheat on my diet for it,” Briar teased, sending Sebastian into another spiral of laughter.
“Is that before or after you overdose on Brigadeiro?”
“Neither.” Briar sighed. “I cannot cheat on something that’s not in existence. Diets are the enemy of humanity. I will always choose carbs. They are my one true love.”
I almost gulped on spit, torn between collapsing into soaring, out-of-control happiness at them having fun together and soaring, out-of-control jealousy at a fucking food group. Briar’s carb addiction aside, Sebastian was having fun.
For the first time.
In fifteen years.
Actually, maybe not the first time. For all I knew, this could’ve started the day she’d entered my home. Judging by their chemistry, this couldn’t be their first meeting. How could I be so blind to it? They must’ve been sneaky. Kept it from me on purpose.
Seb’s idea, no doubt. He probably thought I’d haul him off to a 180-day world-wide cruise, and he’d be right. I was already making a mental note to call everyone. The therapist, the doctors, the travel agency. Holy shit. HOLY SHIT.
My brother might live again.
I tried to reel myself in. I knew he hated when I got like this – excited for him, pushy, too pumped to let him make his own decisions.
Calm the fuck down or you’ll blow it, dude.
I propped my shoulder against the wall obscuring me from view and continued eavesdropping without a drop of shame. The high buzzing inside me washed that all away. Whiffs of pizza and beer wafted in the air. In the background, Peter Griffin’s distinctive whine drifted from the surround sound. Family Guy.