Page 46 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Jason

I wait for the thud of Chloe’s door closing before I lean back and expel the air from my lungs.

That woman is going to be the death of me.

I massage my temples as the recurring pain I’ve been fighting rears its head again. A massage sounds fantastic, and the fact that Chloe noticed I needed one—and went ahead and scheduled it—is par for the course. It’s also one of the things I love most about her.

One of the many things.

When we met, she was a child. I vaguely remember her tromping around the house with my youngest siblings.

I left home when I turned eighteen, heading to college and then the military—anything to avoid living in the same house as my father.

I didn’t see Chloe again until we met at a coffee shop four years ago.

I don’t like coffee but was there to get my mother a drink.

Yet after seeing Chloe there? I’ve been there every day since.

For a solid year, we were coffee buddies during the week and eventually expanded it to coffee shop breakfasts on the weekends.

I looked forward to her stories much more than the black coffee I ordered so I’d have something to hold.

She was playful and witty. So freaking funny. And her curves? Holy fuck .

But she’d had a boyfriend and been completely off-limits.

We became such good friends, and even though I’d wanted her then, I accepted our friendship for what it was. If buying her a coffee and listening to her rambles was the only way I could spend time with her, then I’d take it.

Twelve months after we met, she mentioned off-handedly that she needed a job.

I offered her a spot at Brewer Air before I realized what was happening.

She was the executive receptionist until my EA position opened.

Having watched how meticulously and professionally Chloe handled the receptionist role and how she often went above and beyond her responsibilities, I knew she’d be an excellent fit as my new EA.

I wasted no time moving her into my adjoining office and promoting Brandi to take her place.

I still haven’t decided whether that was my life's best or worst decision.

“Jason?” Chloe says after a short beep. “I have Mr. Towlin on the line for you.”

I heave a breath and sit up, pressing the speakerphone button. “Send the call through.”

The line beeps as the call connects.

“This is Jason,” I say, still massaging the side of my head.

“Good afternoon. How are you today?”

We exchange pleasantries, something I find utterly ridiculous at this stage of the game. Nothing is pleasant about discussing your father’s felonies, upcoming trials, and how you will shield your family from it all.

“All right,” Towlin says, sighing into the phone. “I have a few things to go over with you.”

I take a quick, irritated glance at the clock. “Let’s do it.”

“Okay. I’ll start with the bad news first. I met with someone in the prosecutor’s office this morning, and it appears your father is waffling on the plea deal.”

I shove away from my desk. “ What ? What do you mean he’s waffling on the plea deal?”

“They’re still working on it, but the defense now wants less prison time and more time in home confinement.”

“The prosecutor can’t be considering this.”

“It’s a work in progress.”

I stand and pace the room. Memories of the day my father showed his true evil side flood my mind at warp speed.

Mom’s screams as I walked into her house .

Her image on the security cameras, kneeling in front of a man with a gun pressed against her temple.

Our father’s voice booming through the man’s phone.

Bianca in the background, pleading with Dad to stop as he threatened to have Mom’s brains splattered across the living room—and threatening to do the same to my sister’s.

My stomach recoils.

Grabbing the assailant from behind.

Shots fired.

The gun sliding across the room.

Fists flying. Foxx Carmichael shouting through the phone as Bianca’s sobs grow louder.

Holding my mother in my arms.

Watching a man bleed on the floor, begging me to end his life. Choosing to make him live and suffer the consequences of his actions.

I heave a breath, steadying myself as adrenaline pounds through me.

“I understand your frustration,” Towlin says.

“Do you, though?” I stop pacing and stare at the phone.

“If this thing goes to trial, my mother and sister will be called to testify. They’ll have to relive the day their husband and father tried to murder them.

The defense will try to humiliate and vilify them in the media. They don’t deserve that.”

“Let’s also remember they’ll do the same to you.”

“I could give a fuck about me.”

“Yes, I realize that, Jason. But as your attorney, I give a fuck about you. Your family does, too. On that note, let me remind you to keep your head on straight until this is resolved.”

I glance up at a knock on my door. Tate comes through with a joke on his tongue, but he swallows it once he reads my face.

“You might warn your siblings to keep things a little tighter to the vest. Ensure your employees have strict nondisclosure agreements. Just be smart. Remember, the more they have on you, the more they can muddy the waters. And the muddier the waters, the more likely your father could walk. It’s highly unlikely, but we can’t risk it.

His attorneys have pulled off wilder stunts in the past.”

My hand wraps around the back of my neck as I watch Tate close the door behind him.

“If Dad walks, I’ll kill him,” I say, my eyes glued to my brother. “I will wrap my hands around his throat and squeeze until the last breath leaves his body, and I’ll smile the whole fucking time.”

Tate’s lips press into a thin line as he nods.

“Don’t tell me that,” Towlin says with a nervous chuckle. “Let’s stay focused on getting him locked up like he deserves.”

“Anything else?”

“That’s enough for today. I’ll call you as soon as I have an update.”

“Thanks.”

“Goodbye.”

Tate reaches across my desk and ends the call for me. “It never gets less shocking to recall that your father tried to kill your family.” He eyes me warily. “You doing okay, Jase?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” My teeth grind together. “Is it bad that I wish Foxx would’ve killed Dad? Just put a bullet between his eyes and ended all of this?”

“I’m pretty sure if you put in a request, Foxx could still make it happen.”

I grin because he’s right. Foxx could make it happen.

Foxx and I met years ago while working private security for a man named Fenton Abbott, who specialized in overseas operations.

We were a lot alike—driven and fairly quiet—and we both came from large families where we didn’t quite fit the mold.

We became fast friends, especially for men who didn’t court friendships.

He’s the smartest and most capable person I’ve ever met. He’s my best friend and, thanks to Bianca, my brother-in-law.

“What did Towlin have to say?” Tate asks. “Why were you discussing Dad walking? Isn’t he taking a plea deal?”

I run a hand down my face, wishing I could shield my family from this—wishing I would’ve seen the signs and prevented it all from happening in the first place.

“Apparently, our father is considering turning the deal down,” I say, watching Tate’s eyes widen ever so slightly. “But it’ll be fine. We all need to stay on our toes, avoid doing anything stupid, and trust the process.”

Even though I don’t.

Tate frowns but nods as if he believes me—like he knows it’ll be fine … because I said so. Oof .

“So what’s going on?” I ask, ready to move on from the topic at hand. “I thought you were going to Gannon’s office?”

“I was until I heard Renn is headed that way.” He sits in the chair across from my desk. “Have you talked to him today by any chance?”

I sit and stare at my brother. His question is normal, but his hint of concern is not.

Whatever is happening with Renn, I’m going to hate it. I’m sure of it.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Tate says, moving around in his seat.

“What’s happening?”

“Oh, not much. Renn just wants to talk to you and Gannon about buying the Tennessee Royals.”

What ? “Renn wants to buy the Royals?”

“Yup.”

“He wants to buy a rugby franchise ?”

“Yup.”

I groan. “This is the epitome of a bad idea in so many ways. Towlin just told me not to make any waves until the trial ends, and Renn wants to buy the Royals. Wow .”

“In Renn’s defense, he doesn’t know Towlin said that.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I mutter, blowing out a breath.

“Renn’s a smart guy. He witnessed the disaster surrounding the purchase of the Arrows.

Why would he think we need to duplicate all of that now?

” Fucking Renn . I pace my office again.

“Has he even been retired a year? And he hates the Royals’ management.

They’re the reason he retired in the first place.

So why would he want to buy it? It makes no sense. ”

“I mean, if we buy it, we could fire the current management. That would be one problem solved.”

“One problem solved while we take on an endless number of others.”

Tate shrugs.

This is ridiculous. We have no business buying another sports team, not when our hands are full with the Arrows and our hockey franchise.

I scratch the top of my head.

“Come on, Jase. You had to have seen this coming.”

No, I didn’t … but I probably should have.

I should’ve known you can’t take a man out while he’s at the top of his game and give him nothing to do. Idle hands being the devil’s playthings and all. Renn has always been able to find mischief, even if his hands are full.

“Can he put it off for a while? A year?” I ask, groaning. “Maybe two?”

Tate shrugs again.

“Gannon will probably love this. It’s good to diversify ,” I say, mocking our eldest brother’s inevitable tone. “Why do I feel like I’ll be the only holdout?”

“Because, my guy, you will. I’m with Gannon. I think it’s smart to show our investors—and the world—that we’re united. That it’s business as usual over here.”

Dammit.

“Strength garners support,” he continues.

“Everyone wants to support the strongest. And it’s a whole hell of a lot better to walk into a room with everyone talking about your business deals than have them talking about your father’s transgressions.

That’s what they’ll remember at the end of the day. ”

“True.” I run a hand down my face. “I hate it when you make sense.”

His brows pull together, studying me. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I’m just … tense. I’ve had a headache for a week.”

He stands, yawning. “Me, too.”

“You’re probably just tired from chasing women all weekend. We are not the same.”

He lifts his chin and grins. “You underestimate me.”

“Oh, really?”

“Really. But that’s an expected take from someone so old,” he says, heading for the door.

“I’m going to grab another coffee from your break room.

It’s infinitely better than ours because Gannon is cheap, and then get back to work.

I’m heading to San Antonio tomorrow to smooth things with a few Arrows investors.

It’s a good thing I like golf.” He pulls the door open.

“I’ve golfed so much the past six months that I swing in my sleep. ”

“Must suck to be you.”

He winks. “It never sucks to be me. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye, Tate.”

I wait until the door latches before I blow out a breath.

Then I sink back into my chair and try to sort through my thoughts.

But instead of thinking about my conversation with Towlin, Renn’s impending proposal, or the hundred calls I need to make, I let my mind flow elsewhere …

to the one place it goes when I need to decompress.

To Chloe.

“I’d give Jason Brewer whatever he wants.”

A smile immediately splits my cheeks. Because no matter how shitty or stressful of a day I’m having, Chloe makes it better.

The past three years with her in my office and the past seven months with her as my EA have been the best of my professional life—despite my family drama nearly paralyzing my personal one.

Knowing Chloe is here, waiting for her iced coffee and ready to support me through the day, is a relief. It gets me up in the morning.

It’s also my last thought most nights before bed.

I didn’t give much attention to settling down before all this shit happened with Dad. There wasn’t a gaping hole in my life that needed to be filled. I traveled, explored, and did my own thing on my own time—and I liked it that way. Autonomy equaled peace.

But I’ve started reassessing things.

Dad’s failures required us all to step up and work together. We rely on each other like never before. Our bond is tight, our relationships are valued, and I can’t fathom going back to only talking to my siblings once a month.

Unbeknownst to me, I’ve become a man who doesn’t feel burdened by family obligations. I don’t feel the need to make something of myself. For the first time in my life, my role in the family is clear, and I’m comfortable there.

Maybe autonomy isn’t vital to my happiness. The inner tug-of-war I experience daily isn’t my gut telling me to retract from others. It just might be telling me to lean into it.

To start a family of my own.

But therein lies the problem. The only woman I can imagine in my world every day is Chloe.

And that can’t happen.

Not only would I never risk our friendship and working relationship, but she and I don’t want the same things. She’s young and beautiful—and at the age to have fun and discover what she wants from life. That isn’t a man ten years her senior who’s eyeing marriage and children in the near future.

How do I know? She’s said so.

And that fucking sucks because I’d give Chloe Goodman whatever she wants.

And that’s not me.