We’re so close to our goal for my brother’s surgery. I liquidated some of my retirement account and had another $15,000 to put towards it. With that, I knew we were close to having enough for the surgery but on top of that would be the hospital fees.

I was keeping that in mind when I told Amy that she could go ahead and organize the garage sale. I’d swallow my pride and permit the garage sale. Even if it only earned a few hundred dollars my brother could use it for medicine.

I was in good spirits about the money I had pooled together and decided to call Johnny during my lunch break to tell him the good news. He answered the phone on the fourth ring, and a bad sounding cough came out after he said, “Hello.”

“Johnny, how are you?”

“Hey, Paul. I’m hanging in there.”

“Good, because guess what? I have just under one hundred grand. We’re so close, man,” I exclaimed.

I was surprised that he didn’t seem to share my enthusiasm but assumed it was because he just wasn’t feeling well.

“Are you still there, Johnny?”

“I’m here. I’m sorry, Paul. I know you’ve done all that you can, and I really appreciate it, but I don’t think the surgery is going to happen.”

“What? Don’t be silly. We almost have the money.”

“Paul, the anesthesiologist and hospital fees are estimated at $90,000.”

What the fuck?

I let my head lean against the headrest in my truck and shut my eyes. I hadn’t planned on another one hundred thousand. My heart sank, and I could hear it in his voice.

“Paul…I don’t want to die yet. I’m not ready, man—”

“Stop talking like that, Johnny. You’re not going to die until you’re a ripe old age.” I could hear his weak laughter on the other end and wiped my own eyes. “Like, ninety or something. You’re going to make it, Johnny.”

“The money, Paul. It’s so expensive. We don’t have it.”

“Let me worry about that. I pulled almost $100,000. I can get the rest, I just need a little time.”

“Time isn’t something that I have, Paul.”

I clenched my fist and slammed it on the cloth seat next to me and took a few deep breaths.

“I will get the money as soon as I can. Do not pull yourself off that list for the surgery. Hang in there, Johnny. I love you, man.”

“Love you too, Paul.”

What the fuck is with these goddamn hospitals? They’re putting fucking price tags on lives.

I went back inside, and in between filling prescriptions, I tried thinking of what else I could do for money. Every dime of the garage sale would have to go to the costs associated with the surgery, which meant no money for the prescriptions.

As I eyed the aisles and shelves full of drugs, I knew that the drugs won’t be a problem for him. I’d just find out what was prescribed for him and would fill it myself. I’d have Amy come pick it up, and I’d “forget” to cash it out. Easy enough. On camera, it’ll appear that I’m giving the consultation and going over the medications. It’d be a lengthy conversation, and when finished, I’d just have forgotten to cash her out.

While I was concentrating on writing down some possibilities, including a second job, one of the techs just wouldn’t stop talking about her and her husband. She fucking drove me nuts.

“Geoffrey’s employer just started offering life insurance with their insurance policy. Do you know if we have that here, Paul?”

“What? I don’t know, Tammie. Sorry,” I said and went back to my notebook.

“I mean, of course, no one wants to think about that kind of stuff, but shit happens. Better off to be prepared for it than not at all. Right?”

“Mmhmm,” I managed to mumble.

“At least if something happens to him, I’d be taken care of.”

Yeah, fucking right. She must have no clue how much shit actually costs. She’d be lucky enough for the life insurance to barely cover funeral costs.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Tammie, but it’d most likely just cover funeral costs.”

“No, his is really good.”

She seemed to want to prove me wrong, and I was out of patience.

“Really? What is ‘really good’ to you?” I asked and tossed my pen down.

“On top of funeral costs, I get seventy-five percent of his annual salary, paid monthly until I die and then fifty percent of his salary goes to my beneficiary when I die. Hopefully, we’ll have a child.”

Hmm. That sounded pretty good.

“What does Geoffrey do for a living?” I asked, mildly interested in what seventy-five percent of an annual salary paid monthly would equate to.

“He’s a pilot.”

Fuck. He’s probably making at least one-hundred grand. What the fuck was this girl doing working as a tech when she’s got a ring from a pilot?

“Why are you even working, Tammie?”

“I’ve always wanted to work in a pharmacy. Geoffrey wants me to be happy. So, while he’s traveling, I work here. It gives me something to do,” she shrugged with a smile.

I went back to my notebook, but my conversation with Tammie got me thinking. I pulled up our employee life insurance policy and read through it. Our insurance just does a quarter of our annual salary payable to our spouse or beneficiary.

Realizing that I didn’t even have a beneficiary, I went ahead and made Johnny my beneficiary.

My options were running out. I couldn’t go to Blake again. I already have two mortgages out on my house and barely have a car to get me from point A to point B. I’ve pulled all the money out from my retirement account that I can, drained my savings, and we’ve cut back on a lot of things.

I had an option left that I didn’t want to use, but I was desperate. I thought about it for days before I actually followed through with it. When I saw Anthony standing alone at the bar, I approached him calmly.

“Evening, Graves,” I said and ordered a beer from the bartender.

As usual, the little fucking rich prince didn’t say anything. I knew Anthony had more money than he knew what to do with and if I could reach him, then I had a chance.

I watched his throat move as he swallowed his water from the bottle at his lips. God, to feel his throat move against my hand would be unbelievable.

“Would it kill you to acknowledge me, Graves?” I said under my breath. “Please,” I pleaded with him.

Slowly his gray eyes moved from the bar top and met my eyes. He was listening to me; I had his attention. I glanced around the room and asked him if I could speak with him privately.

“Talk, I’m right here.”

“Please, Graves. Can we move to a more secluded area where our conversation can’t be heard by others?”

He narrowed his eyes at me and glanced around us.

“No one is around. No one is going to overhear whatever it is you feel necessary to say to me.”

“Please, Anthony.”

He set his empty water bottle down and motioned for me to lead the way. I led us to a high-top table that was secluded enough, and I sat down first. Seeing him sit across from me sent a chill down my spine. God, he was right fucking there.

“Please hurry, Paul. When Colin’s ready I need to go.”

“Of course.” I looked down at the table and then back up at him. “I know wanting something, or needing something, isn’t a feeling you’re familiar with—”

“Stop. Don’t pretend that you know anything about me. You don’t know any struggles I may or may not have had. You don’t know what I’ve done to get here.”

“Yes, I do Graves. You’ve done nothing.” I raised my eyebrows at him. “You simply got here by existing. Your father left you everything. You’re a silver spooner. It’s why you’ve never gotten over his death. Nothing is handed to you anymore.”

“Fuck you, Paul.”

Anthony stood to leave, and I reached out to grab his forearm. Oh fuck, I could feel the muscle flexing beneath his skin. He spun around and glared at me with those gray eyes of his. He looked so angry, and all I could think about was chaining him up and poking him until he burst into flames.

“I can still help you, Anthony.”

“Stay the fuck away from me,” he said through clenched teeth before yanking his arm away from me.

As he stormed off in the direction of the stairs leading to the second level, Blake came into view. He had been leaning on another table a short distance away. As I walked by Blake, I directed the anger I felt with myself at him.

“It’s not a crime for me to talk to him.”

“Stay away from him, Paul,” Blake warned.

I made it to my truck and then punched the headrest of the seat multiple times before I got tired and settled down. I blew it with Anthony. He gave me an inch, and I tried taking a mile.

I made my way home to Amy to see how she did with finalizing our garage sale list.