What?
“No,” I snap, immediately defying my boss. My eyes hot on Akara. “It’s your birthday.” I say the word birthday thinkin’ it’ll mean something to the guy who’s been cradling work like a newborn baby. Silly me. Sillier even, I know Akara isn’t big on birthdays the way some are. Because of his dad’s passing. But today was perfect for him.
A Winter Festival in formalwear on his birthday.
Perfect for a date.
Perfect for romance.
Hell, I’d take it if it were offered to me, so why is he being such a dumbass and turning this shit down?
“Two more temps are behind me. They’re joining Gabe to maintain the perimeter.”
Sure enough, I see two security guards shouldering their way through the crowds to reach our position.
With heavier breath, Akara says, “We need to talk.”
Gabe makes a wincing sound like I’m in trouble with the boss. He takes my post, so I can back up from the barrier of crying girls.
I didn’t consider this might be a work issue. I frown heavily, rewiring my emotions. “Is this about security?” I ask Akara while he motions me further away from Sir Blob Squall and the Hales. With Sulli at our sides, we all journey several meters to my ten, soft snow underfoot. I sink with each step.
And then we stop.
Standing among the classic snowmen, Sulli glances cautiously between us.
“No,” Akara says, “this is about us.”
Us.
The lack of shrill screaming over here is increasing the thunder-fucking throbbing in my head.
I grind down on my teeth. “What about us?” I ask, but as soon as I say the words, I notice Thatcher and Jane joining the safe zone that Donnelly, two temps, and Gabe create.
My brother and his wife are watching us.
I frown deeper. What the hell is going on?
Sulli takes a hearty swig from a mug. I stare at that, too. Don’t know what she just downed, but I’m guessing liquor by how she sways unsteadily.
I feel like I’ve missed a lifetime and it’s only been a few hours.
“I’m gonna…” Sulli jabs her thumb towards her cousin. “Give you guys a moment to talk.”
I’m about to tell her to stay, but she’s faster than my tongue.
Akara inhales a sharper breath, watching her leave. “She’s on her third cup of spiked cocoa in less than an hour. I haven’t seen her drink this much, this fast…ever.”
More rigid, I hardly move a tensed muscle. “You don’t think she’s trying to have a good time?” From the concern compounding in his eyes, I see it’s more than that.
“She hates the attention from the Kitsulli shippers,” he explains. “I think it’s getting to her. Normally, she’d brush it off but…” His gaze hits mine.
I grimace. “She’s feeling bad for me.”
He nods.
I rake a hand across my unshaven jaw. “Well, what’s the solution? Telling the world we’re a triad isn’t going to turn off the spotlight.”
Akara lightly pounds a fist into his palm a few times, anxious. Pent up with emotion that I can’t name yet. “That’s not what I need to talk to you about.”
“Then what?” I nod to him.
He pushes back his hair and lets out a strained breath. “I know about your dad.”
I don’t blink. “Say again?”
Akara steps forward with something raw barreling through him. That pushes against me like a two-handed shove to the chest. “Thatcher told me everything.”
My brother.
The guy who usually is more tightlipped than me told Akara the one secret I didn’t want him to know. I can’t tell if the knife is wedged in my back or if it’s deep in my chest and I was just too dumb to notice it.
“Well…” I breathe, a rock in my throat. “That’s not where I thought tonight was going.”
Akara never looks away.
I’m just as unblinking, and our staring contest is one of pain and unbearable things. And I should break our gazes, but I’m not one to cower. I’m standing strong, even long after I’m buried and gone.
Akara barely stirs as he says, “I’m firing him. Tonight. He’s done.”
“No.” My face screws up. “No.”
“Banks—”
“Don’t be a stunad. My dad is the only thing keeping your head above water right now.”
“He wished you had died,” Akara snaps back, veins protruding in his neck. “I can’t keep him on my company—on my payroll—knowing he said that shit to you.” His eyes are bloodshot.
Mine sear. “That’s exactly what you’re going to do. End of story.” I walk away, needing this conversation to end. Needing this resolution to be cemented. Akara can’t drive his company into the ground for me. Not gonna happen.
“No—” Akara catches my bicep, drawing me back. “This isn’t over, Banks.”
I swivel around on him. “It’s over,” I combat. “You’re not doing this for me.”
“It’s for me then,” Akara says tightly. “I can’t have this on my conscience. What he said to you, it’s unforgivable. You knew that, and that’s why you didn’t tell me. You knew how I’d feel about him afterwards. You knew it’d make me want to throw him back to California. And the things I want, I gun for. I’m not letting him stay.”