Way Back Home

Chapter 8

Three days had passed since my conversation with Devin, and I'd kept my promise—at least on the surface. I made an effort to see my brothers every day, even though things between us were still fragile, like walking on glass. I knew they were trying, just like I was. But the weight of my secrets made every interaction feel like a lie.

This morning, like every morning, Nicolas joined me for breakfast. He had been doing it for days now, sitting across from me with his coffee, his sharp blue eyes studying me as if searching for something hidden beneath my casual words.

"How are you planning to spend your day?" he asked, his voice calm, the lawyer in him always looking for answers, even when there weren't any.

I shrugged, pushing my scrambled eggs around on the plate. "Not sure yet. Maybe a walk. Maybe the bookstore."

"Alone?" His eyebrow lifted slightly, a hint of amusement in his tone. He knew about the bodyguard Devin had assigned to me—Greg, a hulking man who never strayed more than ten feet away from me.

I rolled my eyes. "No, I'm sure Greg will be right by my side, as usual. You know how Devin is."

Nicolas chuckled, but there was a tightness to it. "Yeah, I do."

He didn't press me further, and for that, I was grateful. I knew he was watching me carefully, just like Mason was, even if they didn't say it outright. It was strange, in a way. My brothers had always been overprotective, but now it felt different. They were all waiting for something—maybe for me to break, or maybe for me to finally explain what had happened during the years I was gone. But they wouldn't ask directly, not yet.

Mason, on the other hand, had been keeping his distance, but I could still feel his presence. He wasn't cold or hostile like Vincent had been when I first returned. He was... silent. But I wasn't blind. I knew he had the maids keeping track of my meals, knew he worried about me without saying a word. Mason was 35 now, still running the family company alongside Devin. They had inherited the business after our father passed away ten years ago, and while their lives looked polished and perfect on the outside, I could see the strain behind their eyes. Especially Mason's.

It was funny, how all my brothers carried themselves so differently. Nicolas, the hotshot lawyer with his own firm, always sharp and direct, but with a softness he only showed with me. Devin, ever the responsible eldest, controlling every part of our lives like a chessboard, trying to fix things he couldn't control. Mason, tight-lipped but with eyes that spoke volumes. And then there was Vincent—different, reserved, like he was keeping a distance from me for reasons I didn't understand.

Vincent hadn't been home in the last few days, off on road games for his team, the Lakers. He hadn't been as hostile toward me after the night I got drunk, but there was something guarded about him now. Like he didn't know how to approach me anymore. I missed him—missed us. But I knew I couldn't rebuild what was already broken, at least not fully. Not before I left for good.

I made a silent vow to myself: before my time was up, I'd watch Vincent play live again. Before everything unraveled.

That thought sat heavy in my chest as I moved through the day. I didn't eat much—just nibbled here and there to appease the lingering worry I knew Mason and the others carried. But food tasted like ash, and my mind was too full of plans, of endings, to think about anything as mundane as hunger.

Later that afternoon, I slipped out to the garden again, my cigarette pack in hand. I'd found a familiar solace in the quiet spot by the tree, hidden from most of the world. The smoke calmed me, gave me something to focus on other than the impending doom I could feel looming over me.

I was deep in thought, planning my next move, my next step. The day after tomorrow, I will meet Elliot. He was the last loose end I needed to close before everything came crashing down. Elliot, my brother's best friend, my first love. He deserved answers—answers I had run from for so long. I couldn't let him be dragged into the path I had chosen for myself.

Everything had to be tied up neatly. No one could be left behind to pick up the pieces of the mess I was about to make.

The sound of a throat clearing startled me out of my thoughts. I looked up, blinking, and there was Devin, standing in front of me again. His expression was the same as it always was when he looked at me lately—concerned but trying to hide it. Like he was constantly waiting for me to shatter.

"You're smoking again," he said, not quite a question but more of a tired observation.

I sighed, taking another drag from the cigarette before answering. "You're not here to lecture me about it again, are you?"

Devin stepped closer, his gaze steady. "No. I just wanted to check in on you."

I scoffed. "Check in or check up?"

He didn't respond, but the answer was clear in his silence. I flicked the ash from my cigarette, suddenly feeling irritated by his hovering.

"I'm fine, Dev," I said, though the words felt hollow. "I don't need a babysitter."

His jaw tightened. "I'm not babysitting you. I'm worried. We all are."

I rolled my eyes but didn't argue. There was no point. Devin was always going to worry—it was in his nature, and right now, I couldn't afford to push him too far. Not when I needed to keep everyone just close enough to believe I was okay, but far enough that they wouldn't see what I was planning.

He studied me for a long moment before speaking again. "What are you going to do, Tori? What's your next step?"

I looked away, staring at the horizon where the sun was beginning to set. "I'm not running anymore, Dev. I'm going to deal with this, with everything. But you have to trust me."

He nodded, though I could see the doubt flicker in his eyes. "I want to trust you. But I can't help feeling like you're still hiding something."

I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. "Of course I am. We all hide things, don't we?"

Devin didn't argue, but I could see the frustration building. He wanted answers, and I wasn't giving him any. Not the ones that mattered, anyway.

"I'll make sure it's over," I said softly, the weight of the lie pressing down on me like a thousand bricks. "And when it's done, I'll stay. I'm not going anywhere."

That was the promise I had made to him before. But we both knew it was a lie, even if neither of us wanted to admit it.

Devin sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I hope so, Tori. I really hope so."

As he turned and walked back toward the house, I watched him go, the familiar ache in my chest growing heavier with every step. There was no turning back now. Not from the path I'd chosen, not from the deal I'd made.

I took one last drag from my cigarette, the smoke burning my lungs, and closed my eyes. I had three months left, and I had a list to complete.

Vincent. Elliott. The last steps before the end.

And I would make sure that none of them, not even Devin, would be dragged down with me when the time came.

One way or another, I would finish what I started.