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

  "When she cheated on you? In your own bed?"

  "Yeah, yeah. I know," he says, and his expression tells me he doesn't need reminding of what he went through with her.

  "How did this happen?" I ask.

  "She was at a charity dinner I went to a couple months ago. I haven't seen her in five years. She walked through the door and, I don't know, it was like no time had passed at all. We started chatting and the next day she called me and we talked about what happened back then."

  "And what's her take on 'what happened back then?'"

  "She was in a shitty place mentally and she screwed up, and she knows she screwed up. She's been living with it ever since."

  "I see," I say. I turn away from him, taking in the majestic early morning vista. It hits a chord somewhere in me. That feeling of distrust. What it can lead to.

  "I know what you are thinking. But she's changed. And, well, I wanted you to know because...she's here."

  "Here...in Aspen?"

  He nods. "A few women from her firm rented a place for a girl's weekend. So, she'll be here for the next few days and I need your help with telling—“

  "No."

  "Come on. You know they aren't going to listen to me."

  "You are my best friend and I would do just about anything for you. But there is no way I am going to tell Cass, let alone your mom, that you are back with Stephanie. I will support you, and I will be there for you, but you are going to have to man up and do that shit yourself."

  He sighs. "You're just scared."

  "Of the Sloane women? Obviously I'm scared. You're scared too or we wouldn't be having this conversation. You and I are both stupid men, but we're not that stupid."

  "I know how the two of them can get. They're very judgmental about other people's relationships."

  I snort.

  "What? You know I'm right."

  "I do. I also know that the pot called and has a message for you, Kettle."

  "Oh, fuck off."

  I laugh. "Look, man. If you're happy, I'm happy for you. Just be careful. You almost didn't survive the last time."

  "I know. Trust me, I know. But, it's been good with her so far. You know work has been killing me since we launched next year's desktop line a few weeks ago. It was really bumpy for a while getting that out. And, I don't know, but having her around again—it just makes me feel like there's something to look forward to at the end of the day."

  "Yeah. I get that." And I do. I remember it. But, I also remember what comes next, and for me that part wasn't pretty.

  "I guess the novelty of screwing someone new all the time has worn off for me. It's nice to have someone to actually talk to. Don't you ever feel like that?"

  "No."

  "Bullshit."

  I shrug. "I don't have time for anything like that. When Congress gets back in session, I have thirteen, fourteen-hour days ahead of me. When the hell would I squeeze in any kind of relationship?"

  "And you never miss it? What it was like with Kaitlyn?"

  I am uncomfortable, and he knows it. This is an area of my life I don't enjoy talking about, even with him.

  "Of course, I miss it. But when we got married, I was 23 years old. My biggest concern was surviving law school. I only thought I knew what busy was. I could have a relationship and at least invest some time into it."

  And even so, I failed at it.

  "I don't know. I don't have time for it either, but I just know it's better when she's around."

  "I am happy for you, man. I really am. I know the past couple of years have been really fucking hard."

  I want to tell him I am proud of him. I know he didn't expect his dad to die so young. Didn't expect to take over one of the biggest tech companies in the world at 33 years old. And yet, these last three years have shown he is more than capable of filling his father's shoes. But I don't say that, of course, because it's not how we are.

  "You know, I think maybe you're not as big of a fuck-up as I thought you were," I say instead.

  He grins.

  The Sloane's Aspen mansion sits high up Red Mountain, known better to the rest of the world as "Billionaire's Mountain." Although, at 20,000 square feet, this house is almost half the size of their house in Denver, I prefer it over that one. Having started planning on it just a year after meeting Jessica, it is a love letter from Jack Sloane to his young bride.

  The house is impressive throughout, but my favorite part lies in a building attached to the main residence by a narrow walkway; a sixty-meter long indoor pool, a full-size gym, a sauna, a massage room, and the thing I am looking forward to right now, a fifty-jet hot tub.

  Chris left to meet up with Stephanie around noon, and I managed one more run before I realized how much pain I was in. I used to ski all day for a week straight, but now I chalk that up on the list of things my 37-year-old body rebels against. The list is getting longer by the day.

  The sound of splashing echoes as I open the door. Cass is doing laps; her long, lean muscles slicing through the water with every stroke. The smell of chlorine overpowers me as I stop, just inside the doorway of the humid room, to watch her.

  Well, fuck.

  I'm going to have to get myself together around her. It caught me off guard when she walked out of my bathroom yesterday. I don't think it went unnoticed that I couldn't help but stare at her slick porcelain skin peeking out from under the towel. Or that I couldn't help but let my eyes fall to those pouty lips and trail down the curves of her shoulders, the length of her legs. It obliterated every plan I had for acting like everything was still normal.

  Sometimes, I really hate myself.

  At dinner last night, while I tried to avoid meeting her eyes, I realized that I will have to fall back onto Plan B.

  Just don't be alone with her.

  I turn to head back out the door when she stops swimming.

  "Hey, O," she says, pulling herself up onto the edge of the pool.

  Goddamnit.

  "Hey."

  "You going for a swim?"

  She is spilling out of her bathing suit top, and I am trying not to notice. Every part of me is screaming that I need to run, but I can't think of any excuse that would sound legitimate, given that I am standing here in my swimming trunks.

  "I was going to soak for a few in the hot tub," I say. She flinches at the tone of my voice. I know I sound clipped, and I hadn't exactly meant to, but maybe it's for the best—if it keeps her away from me.

  "Well, don't let me stop you." I've annoyed her. Good.

  I walk over to the hot tub, testing the water before stepping in. Cass slips back in the pool and resumes her laps, and I can't help but watch her out of the corner of my eye. She is like her mom in the water—graceful and strong. Jessica taught her to swim in this very pool.

  I pull my attention away from her and grab my phone to distract myself. I am on vacation, but I can't completely ignore what's going on at work. I'm not sure I even know how to turn it off these days.

  I shoot off responses to the things I can answer with little thought, and forward several emails to the correct members of my staff.

  To my left, the water continues to splash. I try to tune it out.

  After what feels like an excruciatingly long time, she finishes her laps and pulls herself out of the pool. I use every ounce of willpower to keep my eyes glued to my screen, not wanting to create any more uncomfortable moments between us.

  "See you later," she says, as she pulls open the door. There is something else in her voice. Anger? Hurt?

  Sorry, Lil C. I don't love it either, but that's just the way this is going to have to be.

  My phone buzzes in my hand, drawing my attention back. It's a friendly name calling and I answer quickly, thankful for the distraction.

  "Hey, Dani."

  "Hey, Owen," the cheerful voice on the other side says. "Merry late-Christmas."

  "Happy early-New Year. How is your break going?"

  "Um, it's been pretty productive, I
guess. I'm in the office now working on some stuff."

  "Dani, take a break. The work will still be there when we get back in session. At least wait until after New Year's."

  "I've been taking a break, I promise. I've gotten to hang out with David a lot. I'm good, I swear.

  I want to say more, want to make her realize how important it is to step away from it, but that would make me a complete hypocrite. Besides, I remember what it was like to be a freshman in Congress. Dani Rodriguez also has the added pressure of being the youngest Representative, and a Latina woman. I don't imagine she would appreciate me telling her she should chill, so I keep my thoughts to myself.

  "Alright, well, I just want to make sure you're taking care of yourself."

  "Yes, Dad. I'm fine."

  I chuckle at this. The press loves to speculate whether there is anything going on between me and Dani, but this is how it has been since her first day in the House.

  "Hey, I actually called to give you a head's up," she says.

  "Sounds ominous."

  "Yeah, well, because it is. I was at the Smithfield Foundation Christmas party last night and Reynolds was there. He mentioned he was heading up your way today. You're in Aspen, right?"

  I groan. "Yeah. I'm in Aspen."

  "I think he's only there for a few days. You probably won't see him, but I didn't want you to have an unexpected run-in."

  "Thanks for that."

  "Yeah, of course. You know I've always got your back, Blaze. Ah, shit. I have a call I have to take."

  "No problem. And honestly, thanks again. Enjoy your New Year."

  "You too. See you in a couple of weeks. Bye."

  I set the phone down and sink into the water, letting it pull up over me. My demons seem to always find me, despite how hard I've tried to run from them.

  CHAPTER 3

  Cassidy

  "We're going to Seth Henson's party tonight, Lil' C. Want to come?" Chris sits down across from me at the counter where I am prepping food for one of our make-your-own-pizza nights.

  "Are we 'Seth Hanson Party'-type people?" I crinkle my nose at the thought. Seth went to school with my brother and Owen, and even now, in his mid-30's, he has never worked a day in his life. From what I can discern, he spends his year bouncing from one party location to another. "Haven't you guys outgrown that scene?"

  "Ouch," a voice from the doorway says. Owen walks into the room, dressed in jeans and a fitted flannel shirt and looking like the cover model from a GQ Magazine. Which, for the record, he has been. Twice. "Is that another way of calling us old?"

  "You guys, you can not be serious. You're a Senator." I wave my hand at Owen, and Chris flinches, his eyes following the knife as it moves through the air. "And you are one of the most visible businessmen in the country. Are you guys really going to go do body shots off random Instagram models?"

  They exchange a glance. "There will be body shots?" Chris asks.

  I snort.

  "Oh, calm down, Grandma. We have been to many, many of Seth's parties. And, if you remember, many of Jakob Striker's too, which are worse."

  "But also," Owen interrupts, sitting down next to my brother at the kitchen island, “better."

  I roll my eyes at him, just glad that he is actually speaking to me like plain old Owen.

  "We can handle ourselves, Cass," Chris says. "His parties have gotten older too. There will be plenty of people our age there—and older, if you can even imagine such a thing. You haven't gone for the last couple of years, but they have toned down a lot. And we won't go off on a bender or screw some age-inappropriate girl and end up on Page Six. Scout's honor." He holds up three fingers in a Scout’s symbol, and Owen mimics him.

  I can't help but smile at them. "Neither of you idiots were ever a Boy Scout."

  For a split second, this feels normal. The banter and teasing. I want this to last.

  "Fine, but if I see either of you do a single body shot, I'm leaving."

  Chris cheers, and even Owen smiles at his enthusiasm, though he shows none of his own, and turns his attention to the phone in his hand.

  Seth Hanson has been having this party in the town's most exclusive member’s-only club every year since he was eighteen. For most people, this is the one night of the year they get to see the inside of the legendary Antler's Club. Of course, my parents have been members my whole life, so coming here is a normal occurrence for me. Even if that weren't the case, arriving anywhere with my brother and Owen opens any doors you need it to.

  We head straight into the main dining area where people sit, chatting. Owen and Chris lead the way, and I notice everyone turn to watch Owen as he passes.

  "Blaze," a large voice calls out as we pass one of the last tables before the double doors that lead to the bar area.

  So close.

  "Russell," Owen says, identifying the voice and walking over to the man to give him one of those dap and then half-hug, pat-on-the-back-things men do. "I didn't know you were going to be in town."

  The heavyset, middle-aged man smiles, and it lights up his entire face. "We rented a place. Sarah wanted to learn to ski. You come up for Christmas?"

  "New Years. I come every year with the Sloanes here," he gestures to us. "Chris and Cassidy Sloane, this is Russell Smith, CEO of Vidtalk."

  "Oh, wow," I say, taking his hand, surprised. "You created Vidtalk, right?"

  His grin is kind and infectious, and makes me smile right along with him.

  "I know, hard to believe. An old man like me."

  "Oh, no, I didn't mean that," I say. But he's not far off. Vidtalk is the social media app that has been skyrocketing in popularity over the past two years, but so far it tends to appeal to mostly a younger demographic.

  "It's okay. My daughters are teenagers now and they are mortified by the fact that I have my own Vidtalk account. I try to explain that it's kinda important that I do, but," he shrugs, “you can't win with your own kids. I'm a big fan of your computers, by the way. I've built everything I've ever made on a Sloane."

  "Means a lot," Chris says, bowing his head in appreciation. "How do you two know each other?"

  "Russell is actually helping me with some legislation I'm trying to draft. I'm sponsoring a bill to protect people from cyber-bullying. We needed some information from him, and he's gone above and beyond in the last year while we did research on it."

  "That's awesome," I say, and I mean it. I worry sometimes if DC will change Owen, and maybe it has in some ways. But he will always be one of the good guys.

  "It will be. Hopefully, it makes it out of committee"

  Chris furrows his brow. "Why do you think it won't? Who is fighting against a cyber-bullying bill.”

  Russell starts to answer, but Owen cuts him off. "Reynolds. He's made some comments to some of our mutual friends about it. I'm afraid he's going to try to kill anything I have my name attached to."

  "Why would he do that?" I ask.

  "Because he's a bastard," he says, and Russell raises his glass in agreement. This is not news to me. My family has known the Reynolds family ever since my father started Sloane Corp. At the time, Mark Reynolds's dad held the Senate seat that his son now occupies and there was never any love lost between our fathers.

  "You know he's here, right?" Russell says.

  "In Aspen? Yeah," Owen says.

  “No, here here. At the party. Or at least he was—I saw him a little while ago at the bar. He was talking to a really stunning blonde."

  "That sounds right," Chris deadpans.

  "Well, fuck, that's just great," Owen says with a heavy sigh. "That's my cue to head to the bar, my friends. I think I'm going to need a drink."

  At the bar, we grab cocktails, and before I can even take my first sip, someone is grabbing me and jerking me around.

  "Cass! Oh—I'm sorry,” Alexis Jones cries. I am so thrilled to see her, I don't even care that my arm is now dripping with the remains of my espresso martini. Lexi's dad is an investment banker in New York who
worked with my dad for decades. We have seen each other once or twice a year when our families' trips here have overlapped for the past 15 years. Most of our relationship is through text or comments on social media. She's just one of those friends, though, where despite the lack of frequent communication, every time I see her it's as though we haven't missed a beat.

  "You got in today? I've missed you, tons," I say, wrapping her in a giant hug.

  "I did. Just a few hours ago, actually. Can I take her? We're outside," she says to the guys after saying her hellos, and Chris waves me away, reminding me to have fun.

  "And be safe," Owen adds quickly as we turn to go.

  Well, at least he cares if I die or not. I suppose that's progress.

  "God, he's still so hot," Lexi says as she pulls me away.

  "Yeah, tell me about it."

  Lexi whisks me into the large courtyard that sits in the middle of the Antler's Club, and even though it's freezing outside, outdoor heaters are keeping it warm. I'm led to a seating area, where a group of people who seem to be around my age are drinking, vaping and passing around a joint.

  Most of the group I already know, or at least know of. Vadim Levin, son of a Russian oligarch; Emmy Windsor, whose family owns all the ski resorts in town; and Bonnie Benoit, the daughter of a famous model and her rock star husband, who I keep seeing everywhere in ads for the country's largest lingerie store. Lexi introduces me to the others, and I take a seat between Lexi and Bonnie.

  "How's Columbia?" I ask Lexi.

  "Good. Hard. I think I might be bad at numbers."

  "Aren't you studying Economics?"

  She sips her drink. "Yup. You see why this might be a problem, then."

  I laugh. "I do. But you like it?"

  "Yeah. I like it. Columbia's cool. I mean, anything is better than high school, right? Especially the stuck-up rich white kid high school I went to. There are at least a few other Black kids at Columbia."

  "Ah, yes, I know such high schools well. I'm glad it's good. I always thought it would be cool to go to school right in New York."