The Anti-hero (The Goode Brothers)

I’m on the verge of tears as I drive. Am I overreacting?

No.

I’m going with my gut and my gut is telling me that something is up with Adam. He’s not answering his phone and he left me with the signed transfer of ownership paperwork along with a fifty-thousand-dollar check from his account and the note reading, Your first investor.

My heart is telling me he would never make a deal with his father for that club.

My gut is telling me to worry.

There are only a handful of places I could imagine him to be. I called his mother right away and she said she hadn’t seen him. And a swing by the old church proved wrong again. Why he would go there, I don’t know. But I had to at least check.

I drive around town for a few minutes, mostly worrying that he went back to his dad’s hotel or he’s on a one-way plane ride out of town. Of course, I’m just being dramatic now. When I look down at my phone, I realize it’s Saturday, at eight in the morning.

And realization dawns.

Of course.

Pulling into a spot along the street, I snatch the folder off the passenger seat and fly out of the truck. As I hurry along the quiet sidewalk, I worry my lip, running my tongue over the ring as I do when I’m mostly nervous.

The bell above Sal’s chimes as I enter. The crowd has already gathered in the lobby, but I push past all of them, ignoring the hostess at her stand as I take stock of the patrons at the bar. The last seat on the corner, where he usually sits, is filled—by someone else.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asks as I let out a despondent sigh.

My eyes scan the rest of the diner, landing on a dark-haired man with his head down like he’s writing something.

“Ma’am?” the hostess calls again, but I ignore her, rushing toward the booth in the back where Adam is sitting alone. People are staring at me, and I get the feeling I’m causing a scene, but at the moment, I don’t care.

“What are you doing?” I ask loudly as I approach his table, slamming the papers down next to his cup of coffee. The panic is coming out as anger, but I need him to assure me he didn’t do what I think he did.

As his head snaps up to find me standing there, there’s softness mixed with surprise in his eyes.

He reaches for my hand.

“Hey, Peaches. What’s wrong?”

At the sight of him, tall and handsome and as perfect as the day I met him, I feel a swell of emotion bubble to the top. My voice cracks with my next words.

“Tell me, Adam. Did you make a deal with the devil for this?”

His shoulders fall away from his ears.

“Wha—” he starts before gesturing for me to sit down. I feel the eyes of the other diners on us as I stand there in a panic, but at the moment, I really don’t care. “Sit down, Sage. Let’s talk.”

My eyes are stinging with tears as I stare at him. I didn’t realize fully until this moment how much of a permanent fixture Adam has become in my life. Just the thought of my apartment without him leaves me feeling shattered and hopeless. It started out as a scheme, but it was never truly fake to me. From the very beginning, I felt the comfort of his voice and the safety of his touch. Even when our dating was supposedly fake, I felt the pride of having him at my side, calling him mine. It was reckless of me to spend even one second around Adam Goode because my heart was at risk from the moment he gave me his seat four months ago.

“Just answer the question,” I reply shakily. “What did you give him to get this?”

He looks at the envelope. Then he shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“What?” I drop into the seat across from him. My heart is hammering in my chest, and I’m lost in a fury of emotion. Should I be angry or confused, or relieved? Because right now, I’m all of them.

“I mean, he tried…” he says, reaching across the table to touch my hand. “He tried to blackmail me into leaving you and taking the job at his church. And in return, he would give you that.”

“So how…”

“I turned him down. I left. I told him to get fucked. And then…he signed it anyway.”

“I don’t understand,” I cry.

With a sigh, he leans back in the booth and stares across the table at me, softness around his eyes. No longer so distraught or worried. He seems at peace.

“He told me the choice was mine. Then, he tried to tell me that if I stayed with you while you owned this club, my career in the ministry would be over. He tried to tell me that you were holding me back, but I can’t help but wonder…if I’m the one holding you back.”

I lean forward, feeling the panic start to rise again.

“What are you talking about?”

“Peaches, I just want you to have everything you ever wanted.” He says it so plainly, I’m sitting here wondering if he’s suddenly lost his mind. My hands ball into tight fists, and I want to punch him for how stupid he’s being right now.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I reply, drawing the eyes of those around us again. “All I’ve ever wanted was you, you idiot. I never had a family, Adam. I’ve never had a place where I truly belonged. Now, I have you. I don’t give a shit about the club. I just need you.”

“You know it’s going to be hard, right? As long as we’re together, you may never get your VIPs back or your members. And you’ll have to start from scratch.”

I let out a long, frustrated groan. “Stop trying to be so fucking good. Stop trying to follow the rules, Adam. Fuck the rules. Fuck the right thing. And fuck the VIPs. I won’t even have a VIP section at my club. And anyone who has issues with you can fuck off.”

A smile stretches slowly across his face, but I still want to punch him. I want to punch his stupid, perfect, handsome face. Then I want to kiss it.

“Come here,” he mutters in a low, sexy command, and I jump up from my seat in the booth and crawl into his next to him, burying myself under his arm. He cuddles me close, and I inhale the familiar scent of his cologne. His arms feel like home to me now.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” he says against the top of my head. “I just…do my best writing here.”

“I thought you left me,” I reply, looking up into his warm-brown eyes.

“I would never leave you like that, Peaches. I told you. I’ll be here for as long as you want me to.”

Closing the distance between us, he presses his lips to mine, and I just hold him there for a minute. Our mouths pressed together, content to just be touching.

Someone across the aisle clears their throat, and Adam looks up, looking offended. With a roll of his eyes, he mutters, “Prude.”

I giggle as I squeeze my arms around him. “What are you writing?” The yellow pad of paper on the table is already full.

“A letter to my brother.”

“Did you tell him about me?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Yes. I told him all about you.”

The waitress refills Adam’s coffee cup and sets another on the table for me. My eyes catch on the manila envelope on the table, and it suddenly dawns on me that I finally have the club to myself. Brett is gone. And I can finally start the venture the way I want to.

“So…” Adam says as he picks up a bite of his scrambled eggs, dips them in ketchup, and feeds them to me like a child. “What are you going to name your new club?”

As I’m chewing, I furrow my brow. “What’s wrong with Pink?”

He shrugs. “I thought you’d like to start fresh. Pick something you’d really like.”

“Hmm…” I say, mixing creamer into my coffee. “What about…Sex Church.”

He laughs, nearly choking on his waffles. “Why don’t we brainstorm a little longer?”

I’m chuckling over my cup of coffee before resting my head on his shoulder. I feel his lips on my head just as I notice an older couple watching us with curiosity from across the restaurant.

I know we look like an odd pairing, but it doesn’t matter to me anymore. We might be incompatible or complete opposites, but I’ve found a good man, and I’m not going to let him go.

I don’t need him to be a hero—I just need him to be here.