Craving The Wrong Brother (Sloane and Knox) novel Chapter 203

Chapter 203

I can’t explain how Luke’s words make me feel. The only thing I can do is laugh and say, “What are you going to drive, then?”

He shrugs, coming closer. “Have you seen my driveway? I have a good number of options. I just prefer the Aston Martin because it’s small and fast.”

“Thank you for trusting me with it. I’ll try not to wreck it.”

“Please don’t,” he murmurs, reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear, his touch lingering. “And send your location as soon as you get wherever you decide to go.”

As he leans down and kisses my forehead, a pang of sadness hits me, unexpected and sharp. He starts to walk away, but just before reaching the door, he pauses, turning back. He crosses the room in a couple of strides, capturing my face in his hands and kissing me hard.

When he finally pulls back, his voice is rough. “That should keep me in your memory.”

As he steps back, a smile plays at the corner of his mouth, but I see something deeper in his eyes-something raw and unguarded that makes my heart twist. He straightens his suit jacket, smoothing down the lapels, a little ritual I’ve seen him do a thousand times, but today, for some reason, it feels final. Like he’s bracing himself for something.

I swallow, the weight of this moment settling over me like a thick fog. It’s silly, really-I’m just leaving his house. This shouldn’t feel like a goodbye, but it does. And I don’t know why.

He reaches the door, hand resting on the frame, and for a moment, I think he’s going to say it, going to tell me not to go. There’s that look in his eyes, a hesitation I rarely see in him, and I hold my breath, waiting.

“When you have the time,” he says, his voice low, almost casual. “Can you send me an updated resume?”

I blink, thrown by the request. “Resume?”

“Your resume,” he clarifies.

“Want me to come work for you?”

He chuckles, finally meeting my gaze. “From experience, you should know that’s a bad idea.”

The tension between us eases just a bit, and I feel a strange warmth bloom in my chest. There’s something comforting about the teasing, something grounding. It feels like a lifeline in the midst of this shitstorm of uncertainty.

He tilts his head, eyes softening. “Call me as soon as you get there.”

And with that, he’s gone, the soft click of the door closing behind him echoing in the stillness.

I sit there, keys in hand, my thoughts swirling. This should be easier-leaving, putting distance between us to protect him from the fallout of my mess. I should be relieved, grateful for the clarity, for the clean break I’d promised myself. But all I feel is a deep, hollow ache.

Hours later, I make my way down the stairs, dragging a heavy bag behind me. I can’t believe I came here with an overnight bag, and in just a couple of days, I’ve filled up a travel-sized bag.

When I reach the bottom of the stairs, I see Javier in his usual spot, his eyes glued to a rerun of some old Western, looking as

1/3

sharp and stubborn as ever. He glances up, one brow raised.

“Going somewhere?” he says.

I pause, my hand tightening around the handle of my bag, as if letting go would make this decision even harder than it already feels. “Just… heading out for a couple of weeks, maybe more.”

“A couple of weeks, huh? That’s bound to give Lucas a heart attack.”

I roll my eyes, a half-hearted smile tugging at my lips despite the ache in my chest. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re just figuring that out now?”

With that, I take a last look around, grab my bag, and head out the door. But as I step into the crisp morning air, I realize my vision is blurred. I blink hard, surprised by the sting of tears. Why does leaving feel so final? Why does it feel like I’m closing

2/3

Chapter 203

a door I won’t be able to open again?

With a shaky breath, I toss my bag into the back of Luke’s Aston Martin, the one he’d handed over with such ease this morning. When I slide into the driver’s seat and start the engine, the speakers burst to life with an absurdly peppy tune. The chorus blares with lines that I’m almost sure are deliberate: “You can run, but you can’t hide, I’ll be there when you’re sleeping at night!”

I groan, laughing despite myself. Of course, I think, my heart warming a little at the ridiculousness of it all. Luke’s handiwork, no doubt. I leave the song on, letting the absurdity lift my spirits as I pull out onto the road.

But as I drive, something nags at me. My hands are steady on the wheel, and I tell myself it’s because I’m being cautious with Luke’s “baby”, his car. Yet, I know that’s only half the truth. It feels like I’m leaving more than just a house. Leaving Luke feels like leaving… home. A home I didn’t know I needed until now.

As the city skyline rolls past, I pull out my phone, glancing down at the maps to search for nearby hotels. I’ve made sure to transfer all my funds out of my joint account with Ryan into a new one. I’ve even ordered a new card, so there won’t be any surprises this time-no chance for Ryan or his cronies to leave me high and dry.

But the thought lingers, and suddenly, something dawns on me. Why does it feel like I’m running? Every time something happens, I’m the one leaving, packing up, making some grand exit. And every time, Ryan and his circus stay right where hey are. Unbothered. Unmoved. I’m the one who has to uproot myself, to sacrifice my peace while they just watch from the sidelines.

And I hear Javier’s voice echo in my mind, stern and steady. “Stop defending yourself and fight.”

grip the steering wheel tighter, feeling a fire build in my chest. No, I won’t be the one running. Not this time.

My lips curl into a smirk as I make a sharp U-turn, my destination set. Ryan’s house.

Comeone is definitely leaving a house today, and it’s not me.