Alibi (Brantley Walker Off the Books #5) - Nicole Edwards Page 0,56
city council, the mayor, and the residents whose land was adjacent to where he wanted to build. It had been exciting back then, an endeavor unlike anything he’d ever done before.
He honestly expected he would always be in love with it, find comfort within the walls. Over the years, he’d opened it up for family gatherings, utilizing the space to accommodate all who wanted to come. And yes, he’d made a lot of money from the idea and had invested just as much.
For what?
What the fuck had he accomplished by creating a fetish resort? Hell, if he had to guess, he’d ruined more lives than not. All those people who’d come here seeking an experience they couldn’t find anywhere else. Did they go home satisfied? If so, how long had it lasted? Was there a long list of disgruntled spouses who wished Travis and his family dead?
He swallowed down the emotion that still lodged in his throat when he thought about his beautiful Kylie.
Turning in his chair, he stared at the picture of her on his desk.
“I miss you, baby,” he whispered, the same as he did every single day. He prayed to a God he wasn’t on good terms with, willing him to take care of her now. Everyone knew Travis had failed in doing so.
A knock on his door dragged his attention from the photograph. “Yeah. Come in.”
The door opened and Gage strolled in.
Travis immediately sat up straight, surprised to see him.
“Kaleb needs those forms signed.”
No greeting, no smile, just right to the point. Exactly as things had been for the past month, more so since he’d revealed that letter Kylie had left for them.
Travis pushed the pile of papers in Gage’s direction. “Anything else?”
There was fire in Gage’s brown eyes when he met Travis’s gaze. “No.”
Nodding because he knew it wouldn’t do a damn bit of good to pick a fight, Travis leaned back and waited for Gage to leave. If the past few weeks were anything to go by, he wouldn’t be sticking around to strike up a conversation. Hell, they hadn’t said more than ten words at a time to one another since they buried their wife. Unless, of course, it pertained to the kids, but even those conversations were light on words.
Oh, but they’d done some silent communicating. Sex had become Gage’s go-to topic. Every time Travis turned around, there his husband was, eager and ready for some down and dirty, angry sex. Of course, Travis hadn’t bothered to tell Gage he didn’t appreciate being used. Hell no. Why would he go and do something stupid like that? And risk Gage turning his back on him for good?
No, these days, Travis found himself waiting around, almost desperate for that little bit of physical contact because it was the only time he felt even remotely human. The rest of the time, he was simply going through the motions, feeling empty, bitter, and cold.
Just as he predicted, Gage turned and strolled back to the door, those fucking forms in hand. When he reached it, he paused for a second, glancing back over his shoulder. “You need to go by your parents’ after work. Pick up Maddox.”
“Will do,” he replied, just as he did every other time Gage issued an order.
Gage nodded, then disappeared.
When he was alone once again, Travis glanced at Kylie’s photograph, and not for the first time, he wished she was here to take care of Gage and the kids. They deserved that. They deserved her.
Instead, they were stuck with him and he was doing a shitty job.
Two hours later, Travis was pulling into his parents’ driveway. All the lights were on in their two-story farmhouse with its wraparound porch, but there were no extra vehicles parked nearby. Being that it was Saturday, he had expected at least one of his brothers to be there, probably with a kid or two in tow.
Instead, he found his father sitting in his rocking chair on the front porch, coat and boots on, an insulated travel mug on the little square table beside him, steam coming out of the lid.
“Hey, Pop. You come outside for some peace and quiet? Or just to freeze your ass off?”
Curtis smiled, continuing to rock in his chair. “Your mama kicked me out. She insisted I was the reason Mad won’t eat his peas. Said every time he looked at me, he’d spit ’em out.”
“That true?”
His father chuckled. “Maybe.” Another laugh followed, this one a bit louder. “He thinks it’s a game.”