The Other Brother (Binghamton #4)

“Surprise?” I ask and then sardonically laugh. “A surprise is something like, ‘Hey honey, got us Chinese for dinner. Surprise!’ It’s not buying a freaking apartment three hours away from where I’m living and not telling me about a promotion you were going after. I mean . . . dammit, Trey, we had this all planned out. What the hell happened?”

“Opportunity happened.” He moves in closer, but I don’t let him take my hands. “I want to grow in my career, Amelia. I don’t want to be the lowest man on the totem pole. I want more for my life. You can understand that. You know I love you, but your dad isn’t going to be around very long, so I need to think what’s best for our future, and that’s what I did.”

You know I love you, but . . .

They’re not the words any woman wants to hear. They’re not the words any woman with an ailing father wants to hear. And they’re certainly not the words a woman on her birthday wants to hear.

I know I love him, but . . . this is completely outside the realm of what’s good for us. What’s good for me. What’s good for my dad.

“What’s my favorite sundae from Coldstone, Trey?”

He pauses, caught off guard from my question. “Uh, I have no idea. What’s this got to do with my promotion? Our apartment?”

Nothing. It has nothing to do with his promotion. Just as it has nothing to do with him when it comes to me. To my birthday.

How can one day bring so many warring emotions? Loneliness. Hope. Heat. Dejection. Heartache.

I nod and stand from the couch, feeling . . . resolved. I want to fume and be angry, but after the day I’ve had, I’m simply too tired. A little defeated actually.

But not torn in two.

I didn’t walk away from our relationship. I didn’t beg to go. He encouraged me to go be with my dad, with enthusiastic affirmation that he would move his life as well. He didn’t need to be in the city to do his job; he could do it from anywhere. Yet, as those words passed his lips, he knew them to be lies. His choice was all about him. His plans were in place so he wouldn’t be the lowest man on the totem pole.

He loves me . . . but.

“My future involved us in Binghamton, spending holidays and weekends with my dad as he grew older.”

“What are you saying?” he asks, stepping in closer.

Not able to look him in the eyes, my gaze cast down at the scuffed-up parquet floors, I say, “I think you know what I’m saying, Trey. I think you knew the minute you made the decision to stay here in the city. I’m just sad you didn’t tell me sooner.”

How can he look so confused here? I shake my head in anger and in disappointment.

“By the way, my favorite sundae from Coldstone Creamery is the birthday cake sundae.”





Chapter Twenty-One


AARON

A heavy fall fog is clouding the stars tonight, making the air feel incredibly thick, thick with regret. Why did I tell Amelia about celebrating her birthday with our special sundae? That was too much information for someone who’s already skittish, but fuck, she has me all twisted inside.

I flick another pumpkin seed in the bowl in front of me, debating if I should go to Coldstone or not. It would be the first year since I met her that I don’t go, and I’m not sure that sits well with me, but then again, maybe I need to let go and move on.

I gave her the opportunity to stay here, but she chose to leave. She chose to spend the weekend—her birthday weekend—with another man. My lucky-as-shit brother. I need to get a fucking hint.

Another pumpkin seed in the bowl.

Fucking seeds.

Like a douche, I decided to roast all the seeds I pulled from the pumpkins I carved for Halloween. At the time, I thought it was a good idea, but now, I can’t stand them, and I don’t know if it’s because I’m sick of them or if it’s because every time I’ve sat down to eat them, I’m surrounded by memories of Amelia, memories I’ll never be able to touch again.

I sigh and pull my hood over my head, feeling the cold seep into my bones, but I have zero interest in going back inside my house where it feels like the walls are closing in on me. At least outside, I can breathe fresh air.

I flick a few more seeds into the bowl, tired of the mindless game, when bright headlights flash down the street. They’re almost blinding in the dark night, and when they start to slow down, my heart rate picks up.

It’s not her. It can’t be her. She’s with him.

Because the lights are so bright, I can’t tell what kind of car it is or who’s inside but when it starts to slow down significantly, I stand from my chair.

When the car turns into the joint driveway and I catch a glimpse of the side of Amelia’s car, my heart leaps in my throat.

Be cool, man. Don’t tackle her.

But the biggest question in my mind is, why did she spend over three hours driving home on her birthday?

I wait.

The car turns off and I see the shadow of Amelia resting her head on the steering wheel before slipping out of the car. Intently, like a hawk watching his prey, my eyes focus as she rounds the front of her car, her shoulders slumped, and her eyes downcast. It isn’t until she reaches the hood of my truck that she looks up and the moon peeks through the fog for me to catch a glimpse of the sorrow in her eyes.

Without a second thought, I hop over my porch rail and walk toward her. Scratching the scruff on my jaw, I approach her tentatively. I have so many fucking questions. Why is she here? Why is she so sad? And why the fuck is she once again arriving in Binghamton alone? But I hold them back. From the looks of it, she doesn’t want to answer a bunch of questions. Maybe right now, she just needs her friend.

Instead of reaching for her like I want to, I reach into my pocket and pull out the keys to my truck. I nod at it and say, “Hey birthday girl, want to get some ice cream?”

When her eyes connect with mine, she nods.

I give her a slight smile, tug on her hand, and take her to the passenger side of my truck. Opening the door for her, I swing her around and nod for her to get in. She doesn’t say anything as she hoists herself into my truck and starts to buckle up. I close the door and walk around the back of the truck, trying to catch my breath before I share a small cab with her.

I don’t know what this means. I have no idea where this night will take us, or what’s going through her pretty little head, but what I do know: I’m going to take full advantage of the opportunity.

Backing out, I look over my shoulder, stealing a glance at Amelia who is looking out the window.

I don’t want her to feel pressure, so I’m heading to the place where we can simply celebrate her birthday just like we used to. I turn right off Franklin and head toward Coldstone. We’re going to be coming in hot just as they start to close, but I don’t care. I’ll give them a nice tip.

Sensing she’s not going to start a conversation, I decide to speak first. “Remember the time you were craving Applebee’s boneless Buffalo wings, and you begged me to take you, but they were closing in fifteen minutes?”

I glance at her just as she tilts her head in my direction, a question in her eyes. “I do.”

“That was the first time I was pulled over by a cop. Fifty in a twenty-five. Hot damn, I was going fast.”

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