“But still, you know, you can lighten up. Quit being so damn buttoned up and uptight.” He gestured toward Loyal’s vest and sport coat as he practically parroted Roxanna’s drunken words.
“What, I should be more like you?”
“I’m not so bad.”
“You’re not so good, either,” Loyal countered without any real judgment.
His brother made a face and shrugged, but he also avoided his gaze as he raised his bottle for a long drink.
Genuinely curious as to what his brother wanted to do with his life, he said, “You know, the other day after brunch, we were all talking about what we have going on. What about you? You’re twenty-five and still no job, so what exactly is your plan these days?”
Merit set his beer down with a thunk. “Fucking A, man, not the infamous Diamond family plan. Why do we all have to have a plan?”
“Because otherwise, where is your life going, and how are you going to get there?”
“It’s going wherever I feel like it at the moment, and however I get there is how I get there.”
“Doesn’t that bother you, not knowing what to expect?”
He hadn’t expected his growing attraction to Roxanna, and it was driving him crazy. Not so much the physical aspect of it, that had already been bothering him for years, but the staying last night to make sure she was okay, and the excited—fucking excited—leap of his pulse when he came to the conclusion that maybe she had a thing for him, too.
And the fucking worst that he still couldn’t shake off no matter how much rationalizing he did, had been her saying she’d imagined him as Grayson. He sure as fuck hadn’t expected that when trying to ruffle her feathers this morning.
“Why should I bother to plan if I don’t have to?” Merit reasoned as he relaxed back in his chair. “It’s not like I need the money. If I went out and got myself a job, aren’t I just taking it away from someone who might actually need it?”
Loyal blinked in astonishment. That explanation wasn’t nearly as self-centered as he would’ve expected from Mooch. Guilt twinged in a way that was becoming all too familiar recently, and had him looking at his youngest sibling in a new light.
“You don’t have to work for money, I guess.”
Though that sounded weird to him—he’d always measured his steps to success by the increasing numbers in his bank account. He’d learned that from Grandpa Ira and their dad, though these days it seemed his dad measured success in the next highest office. He would not be surprised if he ran for president some day.
Merit narrowed his gaze. “All you guys do is rag on me to get a job.”
“We all just want you to do something with your life.”
“Yeah, well, it’s my life, isn’t it?” He fiddled with the corner of the label on his bottle, eyebrows heavy over his lowered gaze, his jaw set tight.
Yeah, it was his life, and what he decided to do with it was on his shoulders, not anyone else’s. Loyal realized it was time he quit hounding his brother—quit making little digs that might be hurting someone he loved.
That reminded him of Roxanna again, and he raised his glass to down the last of his whiskey in one bracing swallow.
Suddenly, Merit sat forward and fixed him with a mutinous glare. “You know, just once I’d like to be asked instead of told, or, not even considered at all.”
“What does that mean?”
“Dad hasn’t asked me even once to work on his campaign.”
Loyal frowned. “But you have helped.”
“Of course I have. In fact, I’m heading over to headquarters to work with Shelby when she’s done with class, like we’ve done almost every afternoon for the past couple of months.”
“I don’t understand what you’re getting at then?”
“Dad never a
sked for my help, but he asked for Shelby’s.”
“He never really asked me, either.”