My phone rang, and I glanced at the screen wearily. Very few people ever called me, and when they did, it was usually never good news.

But this time, I smiled when I saw the name that flashed across the screen. The operator’s voice asked me if I wanted to accept the call, and I immediately said yes. After a moment’s pause, Brayden’s voice came onto the line.

“Hey,” he greeted me.

“Hey, yourself.” I sank onto the sofa with a sigh of relief. “You didn’t call me last week, I was getting worried.”

“You know I don’t like you to pay for these stupid calls,” he grumbled. “And I write you letters, isn’t that enough?”

“I suppose.” I tugged at a loose thread on my sweater. “But I’m working full time now, Brayden. So you can call me anytime you want.”

“I saw in your letter,” he replied. “How do you like the job?”

I chewed on my lip and tried to find the right words. “It’s good. I’m an intern for now, but it keeps me busy. And a roof over my head, which is good.”

“What’s the name of the company?” he asked. “I don’t think you mentioned it.”

I winced at his question. I hated lying to my brother.

“Well, it’s a bunch of companies,” I mumbled. “I’m… uh, I work for an agency. You know, like a contractor. But they really liked me, so…”

I was babbling. And it was going to make Brayden suspicious, so I changed the subject quick.

“Anyway, hey have you heard from Norma? I haven’t talked to her in a while either.”

“No,” Brayden responded. “I’ve tried calling her a couple of times, but she never answers.”

The line was silent for a moment while be both let those words sink in. We knew why, of course. Though I knew better than Brayden did. I wasn’t about to tell him she was probably lying in a pool of her own vomit somewhere with a needle in her arm. Before he went to prison, she was just an alcoholic with an affinity for pain killers. Now it was a whole different ballgame. 

“I’m sure I’ll get a hold of her soon,” Brayden assured me.

I didn’t want to talk about it anymore, but there was something else I wanted to ask him. Something I knew for certain would make him suspicious, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Hey, do you remember the night before you went away when you had all those people over?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“Remember that guy, the one you got angry at me for talking to?”

I couldn’t tell him his real name since I’d hounded Brayden for months and he never told me.

“What about him?” his voice was pure ice. “Have you run into him or something?”

“No, nothing like that,” I assured him. “I just remembered it the other day when I was looking at photos. You never did tell me what that was about.”

“It isn’t your concern,” he said flatly. “And I want to know why you’re bringing him up.”

“I just told you.”

“He lives in Chicago, so you shouldn’t ever see him. Or hear from him. But if you do… stay the hell away from him. I mean it, Brighton.”

“Okay, I got it,” I grumbled.

Why did he think Ryland lived in Chicago? 

“Listen, I have to go,” he said. “But I’ll call you next week okay?”

“Alright Brayden, I love you.”

“Love you too, sis. Take care.”

 

***

 

By the time Thursday rolled around, I was a loose cannon. I’d spent the entirety of the week googling random bits of information about Ryland Bennett during my breaks, and I was starting to think I had a problem.

Why was I so curious about this man? There were so many unanswered questions. Like how he fit into Brayden’s life, or how he was a billionaire and I didn’t even know it. How the universe had conspired to bring me to the very company he founded and the city that he lived in. Of course, these weren’t exactly office appropriate questions, so I had to resort to google.

According to public record, he used his inheritance to fund the startup of the Bennett Corporation four years ago, and since then he’d never looked back. Every article I found about him was business related, with some generic biographies thrown in. There was no mention of him in Chicago at all, so I didn’t understand why Brayden thought he lived there. The articles said he was a California native and that his uncle was another notable real estate tycoon. There was also a mention that the billionaire was fiercely protective of his privacy, and the rest of his life was a complete mystery. Of course, it only made me more curious.

After the incident at the bar, I hadn’t seen Tom come back to work, and I could only assume Ryland had fired him. I asked Nicole about it, but she said she didn’t know. I didn’t really believe that because she was very reluctant to talk about the situation at all. There had been no mention of what she’d said that night at the bar, but I noticed that things between her and Matt were even more strained than usual. Neither one of them were speaking much at all, and I was starting to get paranoid about the whole thing.

When the opportunity arose on Wednesday, I cornered Matt in the break room at lunch.

“What’s up with you?” I asked, planting myself against the counter while he unwrapped a sandwich.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you’ve been avoiding me all week. Does this have anything to do with what happened at the bar last weekend? Did Mr. Bennett say something to you?”

He gave me a disapproving glance as he took a big bite of his sandwich.

“I’m not avoiding you, Brighton,” he said. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Oh.” I blinked.

The room was stuffy, and Matt wouldn’t take his eyes off his sandwich. I couldn’t stand the silence or the feeling that I was the only one who didn’t know what was going on, so I turned to leave.

“Wait.” Matt sighed.

I turned back to him, and his eyes darted around before he leaned a little closer, gesturing for me to sit down. I did.

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on,” he said in a quiet voice. “Ryland told Nicole that he was there because she forgot to turn in some paperwork when she left work.”

I studied his face and tried to decipher what he wasn’t saying. It wasn’t too hard to guess.

“You don’t believe that.”

His eyes shot up to mine, and he ran an anxious hand through his hair.

“I don’t know what I believe anymore. But Nicole doesn’t do drugs. Ever. So whatever was going on that night, it wasn’t her.”

“Of course.” I gave him a tight smile.

Over the past few weeks, I’d realized myself that things with Nicole were never black and white. The girl had a lot of secrets, and a darkness I was only just beginning to see.  I would have liked to say she was my friend, but at the end of the day, I hardly knew anything about her. She seemed to prefer it that way.

But to put Matt’s mind at ease, I told him what he needed to hear at the moment, whether it was wrong or right.

“I’m sure she was just stressed,” I assured him. “And after what happened to Tom, I doubt she’d ever consider it again.”

“You’re probably right.” Matt frowned. “But I’d still like you to look out for her… if you don’t mind.”

“She doesn’t have a choice in the matter.” I grinned. “She’s stuck with me now.”

 

***

 

Nicole had a meeting that night, so I was left to my own devices when I came home from work. The apartment was lonely without her in it, and it made me realize how much I’d grown used to her presence.

Back in Illinois, I was usually by myself. My mom preferred to feed her addictions away from the comfort of our single wide trailer, which was one thing I guess I could be grateful for. I didn’t have to see her in that state the majority of the time, only when she decided to drag herself home once or twice a week.

I thought when I moved to California, my whole life was going to be different. And in a lot of ways, it was. I had friends, a job, a nice apartment. And I didn’t have to deal with Norma-Jean. So why did the silence feel louder than ever?

There was no way in hell I could be homesick, but I knew what was really bothering me. I missed Brayden. And I felt guilty for all the things I had that he didn’t. Since I’d moved out here, I hadn’t been writing him as much either.

He’d been trying to put distance between us since he went away. But I’d fought him every step of the way. Until now. California was changing me.

I kicked off my shoes and collapsed onto my bed with a groan. I’d put it off long enough, and I wouldn’t feel right until I’d written him. So I pulled out my stationary and chewed on the pen while I allowed my mind to wander. Every weekend, without fail, I performed this heartbreaking ritual of trying to find the right words. Words that would bring Brayden a moment of happiness, no matter how small. 

He didn’t have it easy in the Greenville Correctional Center. It turned out that even prison wasn’t immune to the local headlines. For a while, it got to the point where he was coming up with all sorts of excuses to explain the bruises or broken bones. Eventually, he gave up on trying to convince me.

When I got the apprenticeship, he told me this was where I needed to be. Out living my life as far away from Illinois as I could manage. But it didn’t feel right without him.

I reached into the top drawer of my dresser and retrieved the photo I kept hidden there. It was the last night that Brayden was home. The same night I met Ryland Bennett.

Brayden was smiling as he wrapped his arm around me in a display of brotherly affection, but the heaviness in his shoulders couldn’t be missed. For as long as I could remember, he’d had the weight of the world on those shoulders. He’d taken care of me since our dad skipped town and left us with a mother who couldn’t cope.

He was the responsible one. The one who never veered off the straight and narrow. He liked to have fun, but his family always came first. His responsibilities. That’s why I’d never been able to truly reconcile with what he’d done. I didn’t believe he could do something so stupid and reckless to cost three people’s lives. It wasn’t the Brayden I knew. But when I told him that, he said it was only what I wanted to believe. The newspapers didn’t have the same problem. They vilified him afterwards, making him out to be a complete monster. It was a bitter pill to swallow, knowing the person you thought was your hero was someone everyone hated.

It had changed him whether he wanted to admit it or not. Over the years, he’d grown harder. His eyes colder. And there was a chasm between us that hadn’t been there before. It grew bigger with every passing year, and I didn’t know how to fix it. I was afraid by the time Brayden got out, I wouldn’t recognize him at all.

 

My door creaked open, and Nicole poked her head in. I hadn’t even heard her come in. She glanced at the photo in my hands as she padded across the carpet and sat down on my bed.

“Is that Brayden?” she asked.

I nodded, a little caught off guard that she knew his name. I didn’t tell people about him because a part of me wanted to protect his identity. And now that I thought about it, I couldn’t recall ever telling her either.

“May I?” she gestured to the photo, and I handed it over reluctantly.

She studied it for a long time before handing it back, and when her eyes met mine, they were distant and cloudy. “He doesn’t look like you.”

It was the only thing she said before she got up and walked out of the room.

 

***

 

Saturday morning greeted me with a loud knocking on the front door, followed by a disheveled Nicole entering my room.

Her hair was mussed from sleep, and her eyebrows pinched together as she leaned against the doorframe.

“Some guy says he has a package for you,” she grumbled. “And he won’t let me sign for it.”

I crinkled my own brows in confusion as I glanced at the clock beside me. It was only seven am, and I certainly wasn’t expecting any packages. Nobody even knew I was at this address besides Brayden.

I flung myself out of bed and walked to the front door in zombie mode. When I opened it, there was a guy standing there with a manila envelope in his hand. But he sure as hell didn’t look like any kind of delivery man I’d ever seen before. He was wearing all black, including leather gloves, and his eyes were shrewd as they appraised me. 

“Brighton Valentine?” he held the envelope towards me tentatively.

“Uh yeah?”

He shoved the envelope into my hand without another word and stomped off. It was definitely not a professional delivery, and when I glanced down at the envelope, my curiosity was piqued.

I shut the door and made it as far as the sofa before I tore it open and pulled out a stack of papers. Nicole was in the kitchen fumbling with the coffee pot, and I was glad for it when I saw what the note said.

 

I have the evidence that could exonerate Brayden

 

I flipped through the stack of paperwork in a state of disbelief as I realized I was being blackmailed. Inside this file were more documents from Brayden’s accident than I ever even knew existed. Half of them were blacked out, and the rest were already a matter of public record. 

There was a report from a private investigator, along with photos I’d never seen before. They had dates and time-stamps, and even though the faces were blurry, I knew right away that one of the men was Brayden. They were grainy and appeared to be from some kind of CCTV footage. But the date and time stamp were what drew my attention. Because that was the day the accident happened. Brayden wasn’t alone that night, and this evidence proved it. 

Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to collect this information and to make sure I couldn’t use it. As I read through the rest of the paperwork, a sickening clarity washed over me.

There was some sort of informal agreement in the back that stated the sender’s demands. As I read through it, all the blood drained from my face.

Complete control over your body and life for six months…

I read the words over and over again hoping I was somehow misunderstanding them. But by the tenth time, I knew I wasn’t.

“Are you okay?” Nicole asked, hovering over me with a furrowed brow. “You look pale.”

I shoved everything back into the envelope and nodded as she handed me a cup of coffee. Truthfully, I wasn’t okay. I would never be okay again.