Chapter 133: Familiar Cavern
- DEX -
Lawson and I have been stuck together in the small waiting room for hours. His presence is only grating more and more on my nerves, especially because the terror of being taken and strapped to a chair has apparently already started to wear off.
I want to see him shaking and cowering at my feet—broken and begging for forgiveness. But that’s not what’s happening. He’s quieter than usual, but that’s it. It’s not enough.
"What did Pa say to you?" I ask finally, pausing my pacing in front of where he’s seated and glaring down at him.
Lawson’s eyes flick up to mine and then away. "To be happy with COO or I’m being demoted."
He starts fidgeting with his hands, staring at the distant television that is droning on in the background. I still haven’t given him his phone back, and he’s been forced to be alone with his thoughts and the depressing room that we’re in rather than having a distraction.
"That’s it?"
"No," he snaps. "That’s not it, but that’s the gist okay? And I agreed. I’m not going to fight you on it. You get all the control, Alexander."
A dry, humorless laugh escapes me as I glare at him. "Good. If you think you’re even setting foot back in that building, you’re out of your mind."
Lawson’s gaze cuts back to mine. "Are you serious?" The blood seems to instantly drain from his face, making him look paler.
"Was yesterday not proof enough of how serious I am?" I growl.
Lawson’s pale face takes on a faint greenish hue this time, and he looks for a moment like he might be sick.
"You need me," he counters, but there is no fight in his tone like I would usually expect. The arrogance seems to have been drained out of him—if not by his time in that basement then by the brief conversation with our father. The way Pa was talking seems to have shaken Lawson as much as it did me. "You might think you don’t need me Dex, but you do. Don’t let some petty shit ruin this."
"Petty shit?" My brows shoot up, eyes abnormally large, daring him to repeat it—daring him to go on. All I need is one small nudge to push me over the edge.
"You have lost your mind over this girl, haven’t you?" Lawson scoffs softly.
"You’re trying to tell me you haven’t lost your mind? Or is that just how your mind always works, Lawson?" I hiss. "You arrange for me to leave my own home so she is there alone, then you assault her..."
"Wait wait wait, I didn’t assault her," he rakes his hands through his hair before showing me his trembling palms like he’s proving to me that they are not stained with guilt. "It was a misunderstanding. A misunderstanding that she’s obviously twisted into something else..."
"I’m fucking warning you," I ground out, "not another fucking word."
If he thinks I’m going to be just as easy to persuade as everyone else who has helped to sweep his vile behavior under the rug, he’s insane.
"I don’t understand." Lawson’s voice has become shaky, reality likely catching up to him that I have complete control over his future in the company and there is nothing he can do about it anymore. Finally. He should have conceded that from the beginning. "Do you have a history with Auraya Gray or something? Why do you care so much?"
My teeth are clenched together so tightly that my jaw starts to ache.
Why do I care? Any decent person should care. But he’s right, I do have history with Raya in a way—even if it’s history from a prior life or simply from dreams of her that I can’t remember.
Raya is mine. That’s what I know. Hearing my brother with all his lewd thoughts and actions just say her name makes the anger flaming in my veins feel like my skin is going to blister away.
My phone buzzes. I’ve been getting notifications from Laurel most of the morning just updating me on what’s going on at work and checking in on my father’s status. She’s taken this as an opportunity to show her concern and ability to lead, and as annoying as it might be, I’m just grateful there is someone there to make sure everything sails smoothly while I’m gone. With everything else going on, there is no room in my mind right now for business.
This time, the text notification is from Raya.
’How is your dad?’ It reads, and a brief wave of relief comes over me to see it’s her words I’m reading and no one else’s.
’Still waiting. How was the meeting with Liz?’
’Great. I can’t wait to tell you about it. Jeremy sat in and was really helpful. Thank you for doing this.’
’No thanks required. You’ve got this.’
"Is that her?" Lawson asks, and when I glance up and see the dark interest that he is unable to veil in his eyes coupled with an arrogant curve of his lips, I’m surprised the phone doesn’t break in my grasp.
Father’s surgeon, Dr. Angelo Wolfgang, walks in at that moment--unaware that he probably just saved my brother’s life. He is dressed in his white jacket rather than the blue gown and cap I expected to see him in after surgery. A weathered expression drags the older man’s brows and mouth down in severe lines, and the way he buries his hands in his jacket pockets hits me right in the gut. I know instantly that whatever he is about to say is not good news.
Lawson jerks to a standing position next to me, the whole prior conversation forgotten.
"How did it go?" He asks, a slight tremble still knocking his words off kilter. He can see it on the doctor’s face just like I can.
"I’m sorry," Wolfgang says, and my stomach bottoms out. "There were complications."
"What?" I hear Lawson’s stilted question, and then Wolfgang goes on explaining something about how rare this outcome is, offering percentages of survival and details about the pancreas—all information we were given beforehand and that is only fading into the background now, casting the one and only fact that matters into bright, glaring lights pounding behind my eyes. I can’t hear or think about anything else.
My father is gone. And he knew it was going to happen.
"No," I’m vaguely aware the word has been spoken aloud. And then it only keeps repeating from my lips, from my lungs, from my soul. Maybe if I say it enough times, it will change the course of reality. Because this is not something I’m willing to accept.
The room starts spinning, and I sink into one of the chairs, head pounding fiercely. This can’t happen. The procedure was supposed to work. The surgeon did not prepare us for this outcome—the chances so slight that Pa might not make it. That’s why we came to this specialist. So it would work. There’s no way it didn’t work.
"Dex," Lawson says next to me, his hand on my arm. "Breathe, brother."
I shake my head, tearing my arm out of his hold and burying my face in my hands so that I don’t have to try making sense of the room or the people in it. Both of my parents can’t be gone. It’s just not possible.
Wolfgang offers for us to see father, and Lawson lingers by my side until I feel him finally leave to do just that. But I can’t bring myself to follow. There’s a lump in my throat, refusing to let the truth in and refusing to let the tears out.
"Dex, I need my phone," Lawson says when he returns some time later to find me in the same position.
His voice is different. It’s like we were simply playing a childish game before, and now the game is over. He sounds rational again... like the older brother. Wiser. The way he always should have been.
When I look up, his face is streaked with tears, and seeing him like that—genuinely shaken and distraught—dislodges the lump in my throat.
"There are people who need to be notified and arrangements made." He places a hand on my shoulder, and something in my center caves... sinking deep, creating an all too familiar cavern that no amount of crying or tears will ever fill, but they try anyway.
A sob tears from my chest, and I crumple inward, following that cavern... letting myself fall into it. Lawson sits next to me and curls an arm around my shoulders, drawing me into his chest, comforting me. And that fact hammers the truth even deeper.
Lawson is comforting me. That means I didn’t misunderstand the doctor after all. This isn’t just a nightmare. That means this is really happening. Both of my parents are gone.
My brother sighs heavily and wraps his other arm around me, fully drawing me into an embrace. I don’t want him here. I don’t want his comfort, but damn him—I need it. And he should have been the stronger one all along.
Why does Lawson have to be such a bastard? Why did he have to fail so miserably at being the son and the brother and the leader that we needed? Because now it’s too late. Now I’m left to do it alone.
Grinding my teeth together, I shove him away and slam the phone into his chest. He can make the necessary calls. That’s the least he can do.
"Fuck you, Lawson," I growl and walk out of the waiting room to go face the truth.
I need to see father myself. I need to know that he is at peace.
