6: WHAT ARE YOU ADRIAN, AN IDIOT?

FIVE YEARS AGO

ADRIAN

I sat sprawled on the couch in the den, phone in hand, staring at the screen like it might magically tell me what to do.

I’d typed a message to Lolette, then deleted it. Typed another, then deleted that one too.

My thumb hovered over the keyboard, and I pressed a hand to my mouth, wondering what in the hell I was even doing.

ADRIAN: Are you free for a phone call?

No.

That was wrong. I’d never asked her if I could call her before. That wasn’t how we were. Our relationship had always been casual, easy. Ever since she was adopted by the Eastwoods five years ago, we’d built the kind of friendship I never imagined I could have with anyone but my brothers.

We’d grown so close over the years. But last night... we’d crossed a line.

And now I was dealing with those consequences.

Consequences I wasn’t necessarily complaining about.

There was a strange, queasy twist in my chest, something I didn’t usually feel around women—or people ever really.

Then again, Lol wasn’t just people to me.

I stared at my phone, then typed:

ADRIAN: Can we get dinner tomorrow? We can drive to Hell’s Kitchen if you’re done with your thesis.

Sent.

Immediately, I hated myself for it.

Can we get dinner tomorrow? What are you, Adrian, an idiot?

I set the phone face down just as Sevastyan said, “Go fish,” and Sasha frustratedly flung his cards into the center of the table.

Sev threw his hands to the sides, turning to his brother and asking incredulously, “You’re calling the game just like that?”

“You’re either an ass at shuffling cards or a bloody fucking cheat. Why do you have so many good plays just two minutes in?” Sasha shot back.

Sev glared at our little brother with thin, angry eyes, “You were looking at my cards?”

Shaking my head, I ignored them, picking my phone back up.

As I stared at our chat thread all I could think about was how down bad I’d been for this girl.

Still was.

Except now...

God.

I’d pined after Lolette for years, letting Sev and Sasha repeatedly jab at me about dropping hints about how I felt or biting the bullet altogether. They thought she was just as deep in as I was.

But I knew her.

People thought she was an orphan who was given a new life and that she basked in it. But that wasn’t the case.

She may be richer, but her life was nothing to bask in. Not with adoptive parents like hers, or a brat like Mabel as a sister.

She smiled in photos and made the Eastwood’s look like saints for adopting a child in need. But behind closed doors, things were different.

She’d called me crying to come pick her up at night enough times that resulted in her sneaking up my window so she didn’t have to spend the night in that house.

People thought they knew shit that they absolutely didn’t.

And no one ever noticed her sadness, not my brothers or my family whenever she was invited for dinner.

Not the press whenever the Eastwood family was mentioned. Everyone truly thought her life had changed for the better since she was adopted.

Sure, she had food on the table and maybe more, but Lol didn't even like the money part of things.

She didn’t conform to this life like I did. She resented it for the most part.

It kind of still baffled me, knowing how quick I sank into the life of lavish when my dad brought me back home at the age of seven.

And because of that, I respected her so much for it.

She didn’t grow up in a four-story house with a personal butler, a designated driver, or custom-made clothing.

Granted, I didn’t have that growing up either, but my life now was all I could really remember.

And I loved it. My brothers loved it. I was sure my circle of friends loved it. Mabel surely loved it.

I’d always thought she’d come to love it too.

But she didn’t, cause no amount of money could make her shy away from how much she hated her adoptive family.

She was different. She was steadfast. She wasn’t easily swayed by anything. The more I got to know her, the more I understood her.

And I liked that.

I liked her.

And I spent enough time around her to know that she didn’t reciprocate the notion.

Thought I understood her enough to see she only saw me as a good friend.

Whatever everyone else thought they saw when she looked at me, I didn’t fucking see it.

I never would have guessed.

She insulted me a lot. Hated when I gave her full-toothed grins, and acted like my touch burned her sometimes.

She’s my best friend.

And when she called herself my little sister last night, the letdown felt like I swallowed a bomb.

I couldn’t hold back how I felt anymore.

And her confession after... left me winded.

From the moment I kissed her right until I dropped her off a few hours ago, all I’d been wondering was how long she’d felt the same way.

I knew when it came to my feelings for her I’d be a coward. Had been for years. Because the thought that things would never be the same if I confessed to her never let me even give the thought a shot.

Now here I was, hours after the best night of my life, with the same girl that’s been on my mind since I met her, phone damn near not functional in my hand as I tried to think of what to say to her like I was fourteen again and not twenty years old.

A pillow smacked me in the side of the head.

I turned to see Sev glaring at me.

“Get off your ass and pass me my phone.” He pointed to the opposite end of the couch I was on, where his phone was ringing.

I threw the pillow aside, glaring. Sev just held my stare and bit out, “Please.”

I sighed, got up, and picked up the phone, walking to the mini-bar with it.

“Son of a bitch,” he muttered lowly, abandoning his restarted poker game as he got up.

I chuckled, shaking my head as I grabbed a bottle of water.

The phone rang again. I glanced down, seeing Uncle Igor’s caller ID flash across the screen.

I frowned instantly.

What did he want?

It was a weekend. The gala was just yesterday and it was a thunderous success. People received the call-up news well. Hell, I’d been ducking and dodging all the business meetings investors and family friends had been trying to secure since I left the damn venue.

He’s lucky he wasn’t calling me. I would have sent him to voicemail a dozen times over.

“Why the hell do you look like you’ve sucked on a lemon suddenly?” Sev picked up his phone and glanced at the screen. When his gaze flicked back to me, he grinned in understanding before answering the call.

Yeah... my uncle and I didn’t really get along. It wasn’t news to anyone.

He was likely calling for Sev to go down to the office on some business or other that could definitely wait till Monday after the week we had.

Sev gripped his phone in one hand and reached over as I took another sip of my water, smacking the bottle and sending liquid flying everywhere.

Revenge... for the phone trick.

Sev crossed the den, but then he suddenly froze mid-step, “What did you just say?”

Sasha glanced up at Sev.

I walked closer to Sevastyan, and when he turned and I saw the look on his face, I knew something was wrong.

‘What?’ I mouthed.

But Sev said, “We’re on our way.”

When he ended the call, Sasha asked, “We’re on our way where?”

“It’s Dad, guys.”

My brows furrowed, “What about him?”

“He collapsed. I don’t know the details, we just need to get the fuck out of here right now, I want to be there when he arrives.”

“Arrives where?”

“They’re taking him to the Eastwoods hospital.”

“For a fall?” Sasha asked.

“No,” Sev ran a hand through his hair, looking disoriented. “He just had a fucking heart attack.”