Cole pulled out his phone, not surprised to find he had it silenced, and saw three messages from his mom, four from Gabe, and one from Miranda. “You drew the short straw?”

His brother shrugged and took a swallow of beer. “What happened with Sierra?” he asked, and Cole supposed cutting to the chase was part of the reason Mason was successful at business.

Cole thought about denying it, playing dumb, diverting the conversation, but all that took energy, and he was running low on it. “She got smart.”

Mason, still wearing khaki pants and a denim button-down shirt, still tucked in, said, “It seemed to me like you made her happy.”

The image of Sierra laughing, happy, filled Cole’s head and made his pulse pound in his throat. “Until I didn’t.”

Mason looked over at him, as if to check if he was serious. “Sorry to hear that. I thought you two might have something worth fighting for.”

There was that word again. All these years of fighting, probably for the wrong things and the wrong reasons, and now that there was something—someone—worthwhile, he didn’t know what to do. Because he wasn’t convinced, deep down, that he was worth fighting for.

If Mason had tried to pry then, insisted on knowing what had happened, Cole probably would’ve downed the rest of his whiskey and walked away. Gone out the door, up the stairs, and into his apartment where he’d… Hell. Stare at the walls? Throw shit around? Drive himself batshit with questions he couldn’t answer? Being alone had been his MO for most of his life, but if he chilled the fuck out, he had to admit that it wasn’t terrible to sit with his brother at his side. Especially when Mason didn’t talk.

Ten or fifteen minutes passed with them sitting there, watching as more people wandered in and Winona got busier but remained unbothered. She told them Don was coming in afterwhile to help, then scurried off with a full tray of drinks.

Maybe it was his third glass of whiskey that loosened his lips. Maybe it was because the growing noise around them felt like it insulated them. Maybe it was the thought of facing his empty apartment and Tito’s accusing eyes that seemed to say he’d ruined the best thing either of them had ever had. Cole wasn’t sure which, exactly, but he found words popping out of his mouth. “She said I need to let go of the past.”

“Sierra?” Mason asked, eyeing him from the side.

Cole didn’t answer, because who else would he be talking about? “I guess I don’t know how to do that. How the hell do you let past fuckups go?” Then he let out a half-assed laugh. “How would you know? You’ve never fucked up.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”