Bad Bridesmaid (Billionaire's Club Book 11) by Elise Faber (important books to read txt) 📕

need to watch out for Brad.’” Jaime inhaled, released it slowly. “And I remember grabbing onto the door handle and saying something to the effect of ‘Why? What do I need to protect myself from?’ Thinking you’d stolen my Legos or were planning some prank, like you were always doing as an eight-year-old little twerp.”

That made him smile, enough that he could actually muster a light retort. “You’re just saying that because I always got you.”

“I’m glaring at you right now.” Jaime laughed. “But, yes, that’s also true. Still, she wasn’t talking about the Legos or one of your pranks. Because in response, she told me, ‘I worry for your brother because he’s the type of person who always seems happy on the surface, and those are the people who are usually hurting the most underneath. That’s why you need to watch out for him.’” Jamie cleared his throat. “You were a kid, a pain in the ass kid, but you weren’t ever sad or down or anything other than an annoying kid brother, so I thought she was being ridiculous.”

“I probably was stealing your Legos or planning something,” Brad said lightly, even though his throat was tight, and his heart was pounding in his throat. He actually felt a little dizzy, as though the Earth had just suddenly shifted on its axis.

“That’s possibly true,” Jaime agreed. “But I’ve also finally gotten old enough to understand what she was saying . . . and to understand why she said it. She put on that good front, wanted to kick cancer’s ass, but it had to have crossed her mind that she might not be here and that she wanted someone to know . . . well, to know that.”

“I—” He struggled with words again.

Was that what he was? What his mom had said? Was he unhappy?

He didn’t feel unhappy spending time with Heidi or when he was with his family. He never felt unhappy when he was traveling—which was probably why he’d clocked so many hours on planes and in other countries.

“I don’t think she was thinking you were sad all the time,” Jaime said, “but more that you’re really good at putting on a mask. You come across as so easy-going that people don’t often recognize that you need more from them.” He blew out a breath. “And I think Mom needed me to know in case—”

Pulse pounding in his ears, Brad had to joke.

Because otherwise he might cry.

And God, he really didn’t want to cry that night.

“Must be all the gray hairs,” he said on a laugh, and even he could hear that it didn’t sound remotely right. “Mom always said my superpower was giving her new ones hourly.”

Jaime chuckled. “It wasn’t the gray hairs, though I can’t deny that I’m now old enough to find a couple of those now and then.” His tone went serious. “But, Brad, it’s only because I have Kate now that I understand what Mom was saying then. Because my Kate was one of those people—the ones who seem happy on the surface, but who was hurting underneath.”

Heart pounding, Brad couldn’t bring himself to form a response.

Which was just as well, because Jaime wasn’t done talking.

“So, bro, my question to you is . . . what’s beneath the veneer? What’s that proverbial grain of sand in the oyster, rubbing you raw? Or maybe it’s a big spike that’s jabbing at you over and over again, something that’s hurting you and just won’t go away, no matter how hard you try to ignore it.”

“I—” He shook his head even though his brother couldn’t see him. It was all he could manage, when all he could think was . . .

Happy on the surface.

And what was beneath?

Nothing.

Empty.

Unfulfilled.

Fuck, that was gloomy. Fuck, that didn’t make him feel better. Fuck, why didn’t he know what the hell was in his own brain?

“Just think about it,” Jaime said. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he whispered after a moment. “I will.”

They said their goodbyes and hung up, Brad continuing to sit on the chair with the stars overhead, continuing to berate himself for not knowing his own mind. But the problem was that he didn’t feel jabbed or raw or even hurt.

He just felt . . . alone.

For the second time in as many minutes, he went completely ramrod stiff, not breathing, not moving as he realized that, no, he wasn’t necessarily unhappy or depressed.

He was empty.

Because he’d filled his life with all the wrong things—or perhaps, most of the wrong things, because he did have his family. But he didn’t have any close friendships, and he’d used traveling as a tool.

To avoid connection.

To avoid getting too close to anyone . . . because if he did get close then he might care about them and they would leave, or they might get sick and die. But if he left first, if he was too busy or off doing his own thing, then he wouldn’t be as hurt.

That was why the first night with Heidi had freaked him out so much.

That was why he’d run.

Because he’d known she was different, known he couldn’t leave her behind.

The only question was whether he had the strength to fill that empty void inside him, whether he had the strength to put that need to keep people at a distance behind him.

Heidi’s smile flashed through his mind, the pride on her face when she’d stared up at him with the amazing cake creation to replace the mess he’d made, the tears she’d wiped from her eyes when she’d watched Kate and Jaime kiss at the altar, her joy when she’d caught the bouquet, her arms as she’d walked toward him, the slender limbs laden with presents from the wedding. Hell, even her glares.

None of that had made him feel empty.

None of that had made him feel alone.

“So fuck that,” he whispered. “Fuck the void, fuck the distance.”

He was done with running.

He was ready to live a life that was so fucking full it was spilling over.

And