learn that I’m more than just his little brother. I don’t always need him to fight my battles.
“I thought Aaron was your friend. Why’re you calling him a fucker?”
“Josh is my friend, almost like a brother, but Aaron, not so much. He’s cool, I guess. But I wouldn’t have a problem stringing him up if he fucked with you.”
I snort. “He’s not. In fact, he just gave me supervision over this merger that may be announced at the end of the year.”
Connor whistles. “Well, why didn’t you lead with that?” He slaps my shoulder. “You've been looking for more opportunity to showcase your skill and earn your way into a higher role within the company, right?”
I nod.
“Then why the long face and the pissy attitude?”
I open my mouth but decide not to tell my brother about Jackie Hinkerson. He didn’t know her while I was in high school. He didn’t know the extent to which she played in my life since he was busy building his career as a mixed martial artist. He was doing a lot of traveling and fighting during that time, and I, being a typical teen, was pulling away from my family, especially my older brother, seeking out my independence.
“I don’t like the person I have to take on this project with,” I lamely state, my frustration spilling out into my tone.
Connor stands, clicking his teeth and waving me off. “The fuck cares about whoever it is? As long as they ain’t giving you shit you can’t handle. If this project skyrockets your career, then fuck whoever stands in your way.”
I chuckle at his cavalier tone. It’s that simple for him. As things had always been. Scratch that. Things weren’t always simple for my brother, but life seemed to unfold naturally for him. Without even realizing it, he had a natural talent for everything he touched. From the time he could walk, our father taught him how to box, and he took to it like a fish to water. He excelled as a fighter, earning deals and notoriety the world over. Then he started a dietary supplements line, which took off. And let’s not forget The Underground. His not-so-secret underground fighting club, which he’s been running for years.
Oh yeah, and most recently, a beautiful wife and son to boot. Connor’s life hasn’t been a walk in the park, but he’s got a shit ton to show for it, even if he doesn’t care at all for the flash and envy of others. But I’m not my brother. Never have been.
Don’t get it twisted, though. I know I’m one of the luckiest motherfuckers alive. My life is damn good, and I know it.
“Yeah,” I say, agreeing with Connor because it doesn’t make a damn bit of sense to argue his point. He’s right, after all. Jackie fucking Hinkerson isn’t going to get in the way of my professional ambition.
I pull out my phone to open up my work email. Before I even realize what’s happening, my thumbs fly over the keyboard, typing out a message.
“You’re coming over for Thanksgiving, right?”
“What?” I murmur, still typing out the email.
“Thanksgiving. You’re bringing your ass over here, right? Buddy’s coming, and Damon’s bringing the family over here, too. Josh and Kayla will probably stop by after they do the family thing.”
I grunt, still typing.
“Who the fuck are you texting?” he demands.
Glancing up, I give him a half smile. “None of your damn business.”
He points his finger at me, standing to his full height. “You better not be talking to Buddy about getting into the ring.”
“Bro, you know even at your full height, and from this chair, you still don’t scare me.”
“Yeah, talk that mess when my foot’s up your ass for getting in another fight.” He huffs and folds his arms across his chest. Even with narrowed lenses and scowling, I don’t find him incredibly intimidating. Yeah, sure, it’s because I know, despite his threats, my brother would never harm me.
Even before the chair, he was always looking out for me. It’s why I’ve been able to deal with Aaron Townsend for the past two-plus years with ease. I’ve been around scowling motherfuckers my entire life. Hell, for much of my life, I was one of ’em.
“It’s a work email. Hey, I’m heading home. Since the baby’s asleep, I’ve got no reason to sit around staring at your ugly mug.”
“Hey, and what am I? Chopped liver?”
Grinning, I turn my chair to see my sister-in-law standing there wearing an affronted expression with