Since Always : A Brother's Best Friend/Age Gap Romance Read online

  Since Always

  ML GRAY

  ML GRAY

  Copyright © 2002 M.L. Gray

  mlgrayauthor.com

  All rights reserved. No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without permission from the publisher, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permissions contact: [email protected]

  Cover by: Sarah Kil at Sarah Kil Creative Studio

  This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents in this book are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  For Ken, who changed my mind on happily ever after.

  A note from the author

  A quick word on triggers:

  If you don’t want to see any kind of trigger warnings because they might be spoilers, skip the rest of this page to start the book!

  Possible Triggers included in this story: An age gap relationship where he is older and has known her since she was born, alcohol and drug consumption, previously attempted sexual assault, a car accident, cheating, parental loss, pregnancy loss, profanity, spousal loss, sexually explicit scenes

  CHAPTER 1

  Cassidy

  The smell of this house instantly reminds me of my father. It's the fireplaces—all eight of them—burning throughout the 20,000-foot residence. My dad would insist on each one being lit the entire time we were here in Aspen. I asked him once why we didn't put the gas logs in this house that we used in our main house in Denver.

  "Because I want this place to feel special," he told me, his warm face smiling. "I want it to always feel like magic here."

  I head away from the foyer to my bedroom, passing my brother Chris’s open door and noting his unmade bed and the clothes he has already scattered across the floor. He's been here twelve hours. The world knows Chris only as a titan of industry—handsome and put together and always dressed to the nines.

  If only they knew the tornado he actually is.

  I turn down the hallway I share with only one other room—one I fight the urge to stop and peer inside just to make sure it's actually being used this trip. I know it is, though, since I casually verified its occupant was on the plane with my mom and brother last night. My breathing quickens at the thought.

  Whether it is with dread or excitement, I'm still not sure.

  Inside my room, I strip out of my wet clothes and glance with longing at my bed. I stayed in Denver an extra night to attend the post-Christmas party of an old high school friend, and then tagged along on another friend's plane that was coming up here this morning. All-in-all, I got three still partially drunk hours of sleep last night before a bumpy plane ride over the Rockies.

  I am still exhausted and queasy.

  I turn away from the bed, though, knowing I should go and meet my family. I'm also itching to get on the slopes.

  A shower would help me feel more alive.

  After finishing undressing in my bathroom, I reach in to turn the water on when the faucet breaks off into my hand.

  "Shit,” I say, setting it on the counter. I groan, making a mental note to let our caretaker know, and then wrap my towel around me so I can use one of the other six bathrooms in the house.

  I head straight for Owen's en suite. I know I should probably use one of the guest baths, but I also know he is out with my mom and brother and his is the closest one to my room.

  And, let's be honest, his smells like him.

  I note his open toiletry bag on the counter as I turn on the water, and fight the urge to rifle through it. Using his shower might be borderline creepy, but I'm not quite to the “I wanted to smell your cologne and taste your toothpaste” level of stalker just yet.

  As I step into the shower, I can feel my nerves bubbling up. He’s avoided these trips with my family and had zero contact with me for two years, but in the next couple of hours, I will finally be face-to-face with him. I take deep breaths of the steam-filled air to calm myself. All I can do is hope that it has been long enough for him to forgive me. I doubt it has, though. After all, it hasn’t been long enough for me to forgive myself.

  With one towel wrapped around my body and another around my hair, I step out of the bathroom and his firm body collides with mine.

  He jumps back, startled. "Jesus, Cass. You scared me."

  "I'm...I'm so sorry. My shower broke. The knob came off when I turned it. I thought you'd be out there. On the mountain. I didn't think..."

  I will myself to stop my awkward stammering.

  He shuffles from one foot to the other, his eyes pointedly avoiding mine as he glances into the bathroom behind me.

  "No problem."

  The air feels cold on my exposed skin and reminds me of how little of my body is covered. I clasp my hand hard over the towel. I knew it would be strange the first time we saw each other, but I hadn't expected to be naked for it, and right now my skin feels very aware of his presence. I watch his eyes as they finally scan over me, spotting the wet cleavage spilling over the top of the towel.

  He jerks his attention up to my face, and I know this isn't quite how he envisioned this moment, either.

  "You aren't on the slopes?" I say, trying to control my breathing.

  "I had to come back for a conference call. Just grabbing some papers for it." He sounds off-kilter, which is strange for the most unremittingly composed person I've ever known.

  Silence again. I trail my eyes over the face I see on TV and online all the time. It is different, seeing him here like this. He clenches his strong, angular jaw; his deep brown eyes are wide and still startled. There is the hint of scruff growing across his skin, which is something I only ever get to see here, away from work. This familiarity warms me, despite the unease of the moment. But there is something else in his face as well—something I've never seen before when he looked at me.

  He is uncomfortable with me, and the reality of that is something that almost buckles my knees.

  "Oh, okay. Well, I'll leave you to it," I say, not able to stand it anymore.

  He doesn't move, so I have to step around him in order to leave. I am out the door and almost to my room when he seems to come out of whatever trance he has been in and steps out of his door.

  "Are you going out there?" he asks. His voice isn't cold, but it's not warm either.

  "Yeah. I'm gonna get ready now."

  "Your mom and Chris are on Aspen Mountain. Well, right now they are at Charlie's Bar and Grill, downtown."

  "Happy hour?"

  "Yeah."

  I crack a smile. My mother has been a literal billionaire for almost twenty years, and you still can barely pull her away from BOGO appetizers.

  "Well, then they'll probably be there for a while." I am trying to sound as casual as possible. Trying desperately to make any of this at all normal.

  I see some of the tension in his face break. He smiles back at me. My chest constricts, some small ray of hope piercing its way out of the darkness.

  Maybe we can do this. Be friends. Get something somewhat close to normal back.

  His eyes slip again, glancing down to my bare legs. I can feel them there, traveling up my thighs, knowing how little is between him and what hides beneath. Parts of my body respond as though he is actually touching me.

  He clears his throat and shifts back towards his room.

  "I'll see you out there soon. I should make my call."

  "Yeah. Sure. See you out there later," I say. But he has already retreated out of view.

  I rush i
nto my room and close the door behind me, leaning against the wall. I cringe and shut my eyes to erase the moment from my memory, as though I haven't spent the last two years trying to erase memories.

  As though I have ever been successful.

  He doesn't show up for the rest of the afternoon. That's the thing I love the most about snowboarding, though; it's hard to think about my problems when I am on a run. Hard to dwell on the awkward moment this morning or the awful day two years ago that caused it. It's impossible not to just be here, now. To not focus on the slope ahead of me and my center of gravity and the wind ripping across my face. On the lifts, I shift uncomfortably with my thoughts, but the second my board hits the ground, my mind is clear.

  Meditation doesn't have to happen on a mat.

  I meet up with my mom and brother when they get back from the bar and do a few runs together. I am the last one of us to leave the mountain. Mom and Chris claim exhaustion and blame their "advanced ages" before heading home, though I remind them it might have something to do with the afternoon they just spent drinking.

  By the time I get back to the house, it's already dark and they have all left for dinner. I scramble to get ready to meet them.

  I use a guest bathroom to shower off this time. I'm not taking that chance again.

  At our favorite local restaurant, the hostess leads me to a table in a dim back corner. Mariachi music plays overhead and the smell of onions and bell peppers filling the air has my stomach rumbling. At the table, my family is already seated. My mom and Owen sit next to one another on one side, and I take an empty chair next to my brother.

  "I ordered you a margarita," my mom says to me before I am even settled in the seat. "It feels like a tequila kind of night."

  "Oh good," I say, "I was hoping to get wasted and end up dancing on the table."

  "Ah yes," Chris says, rolling his eyes. His face is still pink from the cold. My father passed down his pale skin and hazel eyes to both my brother and me, but while I got my mother's dirty blonde hair, Chris inherited our dad's ginger hair, freckles, and often rosy cheeks. “I can just see the headline now: US Senator, Owen Blaze, Thrown Out of Mexican Restaurant with 22-year-old Heiress."

  Owen chuckles. "Leave me out of this."

  "Don't call me that," I say, kicking Chris's leg under the table. "You know I hate it."

  "Why? That's weird. I get called an heir all the time. It's just...a fact."

  "Maybe, but 'heir' has no negative connotation. You hear 'heir' you think 'to the throne.' Power. Strength."

  "All correct," he adopts a thick British accent, waving his hand in the air like he's royalty.

  I roll my eyes. "You hear 'heiress,' you think brainless. Body shots. Ibiza."

  "All corre—Ow.” He reaches down to rub his shin.

  "She's not wrong," my mom says, turning to thank the server who has brought our drinks.

  "Well, I for one am very sorry to hear about how oppressed Cassidy feels," my brother mocks. "I know it's been a hard life for her and all."

  "I didn't say that, jackass. I'm obviously not oppressed, and I didn't complain about my life. But I don't like the label. There's a sexist double standard to it."

  "See," my mom turns to Owen and waves a hand towards me and Chris. “You can't tell me you haven't missed this while you've been away." She grabs her margarita and raises it. "We need to toast."

  We all follow her lead and raise our drinks in the air.

  "To Aspen," she says.

  We echo her and clink glasses. I haven't glanced across from me at Owen a single time. Judging from what I can tell out of the corner of my eye, he is doing his best to avoid looking at me as well.

  Just the mere mention of the time he has been gone is enough to flood me with memories and I wonder if he is remembering too. I can feel my face turning crimson at the thought.

  My mom reaches over to grab Owen's hand.

  "I'm so happy to finally have all my kids back together."

  He gives her a warm, genuine smile and then leans over to kiss her on the cheek.

  "I've missed you, Jess."

  In reality, my mom is only thirteen years older than Owen. Only fourteen older than Chris, for that matter. But she's known my brother and his lifelong best friend since the day she met my dad, a couple of years after Chris's birth mom passed away. People have always commented how she is more like an older sister to Chris than a stepmother.

  "I just can't believe how grown up you all are now. It feels like your dad and I were just sitting here with two teenage boys and a screaming baby. And now look at you. Owen is in his second term in the Senate. Chris is the CEO of Sloane Corp. And even our little Cass is graduating soon. It all just happened so fast."

  "You're graduating this year?" Owen asks, finally turning to me. There is an edge to his voice, as though it is a struggle to talk to me.

  "Yeah. May."

  "You got caught up quickly. You're only, what? A year late?"

  "Yeah. I missed a year and a half but did some summer classes and took a few extra credits last semester."

  "You should've just taken your time. If I could have stretched Stanford out for ten years, I would have," Chris says.

  "Yes, we all know," my mother says.

  Owen laughs at this, and it bothers me how quickly he can turn it off and on. For them, he is just the normal old Owen.

  "You could've gone to law school with me. By the time I finished school, I'd never been so ready to leave anywhere," he says.

  "Ah, that I could have," my brother says, a mock wistfulness to his voice. "Alas, duty called. I had the company to think about."

  I roll my eyes. "So selfless. The company you had dreamed of working for since you were, like, seven? Now who are we supposed to feel sorry for?"

  He just grins and shrugs.

  "Cass is considering getting her MBA," my mom says, ignoring the ribbing we are giving one another, as she always tries to do.

  I groan. "I haven't decided that yet. I said it was one possibility, but I don't know yet."

  "I'm trying to tell her she doesn't need to," Chris says. "Once she starts working at Sloane she's going to get a masters-level education, anyway. She might as well just get started with us."

  "Have you decided what you'll be doing for the company?" Owen says. For the first time tonight, his eyes are searching my face. It's hard not to stare back. For a split second, I wish we were alone. Wish I could reach across the table and touch him.

  Stop it, Cassidy.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see my brother quickly, almost a little too quickly, swipe away a message on his Sloane smartwatch, but he then turns to me, smiling.

  "We're putting her in R&D. I think if anyone can develop our next line of computers, it's Cass. She's great at engineering. Always been a wiz at math and science, as you know."

  "Do I need to kick you again?" I turn back to Owen. "I don't actually know. My degree is in business, but I like writing, so maybe marketing or PR. I did a minor in marketing. We haven't figured out the details yet, I may actually try a few different departments. Chris thinks I should, anyway."

  "It's just a good way to get to know what we do for when you are in management rolls later and taking your place on the board."

  My body tenses at his words. The future of mine that he paints. The future that has been laid out before me my entire life. The truth is, I don't want to stay in school to get my MBA, but I also dread the thought of starting my career with my family's company. Prolonging school seems like the best way to delay that.

  “We'll see where it goes." I shrug, needing to change the subject. "So, how is DC, Senator?"

  There is something in his eyes in the second before he answers that tells me he is not fooled by my nonchalance. My mom and brother, however, shift towards him, waiting for his answer, wanting to hear the juicy details of Owen's glamorous life.

  I grab my margarita, and as he talks I picture it, the life that he has been leading so far from my own.
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  It isn't long before my mom asks the question I've been dreading since I found out he was coming on this trip.

  "So, what about women? I saw something about you and Emma Dane."

  "The girl from the reality show?" Chris asks. I hold my breath, but lock my eyes on the ski jumping competition playing on a TV in the distance. I work to keep my face looking uninterested. I can feel him glancing my direction, though, and know that again, I have not fooled him.

  "Emma and I hosted a fundraiser together. I met her twice and never spoke to her outside of that. You know better than to believe what you read."

  "Disappointing," Chris mumbles.

  "It was actually a really cool fundraiser," he says, turning towards my mom. "You'd have liked it, Jess."

  As he explains to her about the cause and the night, I notice he is once again avoiding my gaze. He doesn't want to talk about other women around me. Maybe that means nothing, but I can't help but feel that ray of hope again.

  I sigh and take another long drink of my margarita.

  This is going to be a long week.

  CHAPTER 2

  Owen

  "Hey man, so I have something to tell you," Chris says. We are sitting on the chairlift for our favorite run on Snowmass, one of the four mountains in Aspen.

  "I love it when you preface shit like that. I always know it's going to be good."

  "You're going to freak out a bit when I tell you."

  "Well, then, telling me here is a brilliant idea." I gesture to the ground, some twenty feet below us.

  He takes a deep breath, preparing himself for whatever bomb he is preparing to drop on me.

  “I’ve been seeing Stephanie again."

  I don't know what I was expecting him to say, but it certainly wasn't this.

  "You've been...are you fucking kidding me?"

  He shakes his head. "I know what you're going to say, and I'm telling you, she's changed. She's not the person she was when—“