Craving My Brother's Best Friend (Bailey and Kaleb) novel Chapter 66

**Kaleb’s POV**

As I stepped out of the hospital, my hands trembled uncontrollably, the weight of the day pressing heavily on my chest.

With a forceful slam, I closed the door behind me, the sound echoing in the stillness of the parking lot. I slid into my car, my mind racing with a whirlwind of dark thoughts and haunting images.

Bailey and her family flickered in my mind, their faces etched with exhaustion and fragility. I had witnessed their struggle firsthand, and for the first time, I felt like an outsider looking in. They were a unit, bound together by shared pain, while I stood alone, invisible.

The image of my father’s last moments invaded my thoughts, and I felt a fresh wave of sorrow wash over me. I imagined him lying there, alone, without a single hand to hold his in his final moments. A crack formed deep within me, a fissure of grief and regret that felt like it would never heal.

Tightening my grip on the steering wheel, I whispered, “Damn it,” my voice hoarse and raw.

“Damn you, Dad,” I added, the words tasting bitter on my tongue.

With determination, I drove straight to the bar at the edge of the city, the one with the dim, darkened windows and a neon sign flickering like it was on the brink of collapse. I parked haphazardly and pushed through the door.

The familiar stench of stale alcohol and smoke enveloped me, wrapping around me like a shroud. The low thrum of music pulsed from a speaker in the corner, a rhythm that resonated with the chaos in my mind. A few men sat scattered around, their faces obscured in the shadows. I made my way directly to the counter, my focus singular.

“Whiskey,” I ordered, my voice sounding foreign to my own ears.

The bartender, a weary man adorned with tattoos that told stories of their own, poured a glass and slid it toward me. Without hesitation, I snatched it up and downed it in one swift motion. The burn in my throat was a welcome distraction, almost pleasurable in its intensity.

“Another,” I demanded, my voice steady despite the storm inside me.

He poured me another without a word, and I drank again, my gaze fixed on the counter. My reflection stared back at me, a stranger with trembling hands and haunted eyes.

Mr. Hart should have warned me about the mafia long before today. His decision to keep me in the dark felt selfish, a betrayal that cut deeper than I had anticipated. He had no idea about the hell I had endured over the years, working for the very Serpent Mafia that had ensnared me in its web.

What if Bailey discovered the truth about my past? What if she looked at me with those wide, innocent eyes and saw only a monster lurking beneath the surface?

I pressed my palm against my forehead, frustration bubbling over. “Damn you,” I muttered, a curse meant for no one and everyone at once.

I continued to drink, the glass emptying far too quickly as the bartender kept refilling it. My head began to feel both light and heavy, a disorienting combination that dulled the ache in my heart.

I had no idea how long I had been sitting there, lost in my thoughts, when a voice broke through the haze.

“Kaleb?”

I turned my head slowly, my heart sinking as I recognized Ethan standing there. His hair was a disheveled mess, and for the first time, a look of genuine concern marred his features.

“What do you want?” I groaned, irritation bubbling to the surface.

He stepped closer, his tone accusatory. “Heard you’ve been hanging around my girl.”

“Get lost, Ethan,” I snapped, waving him off as I took another drink. “I’m not in the mood for your games.”

I didn’t even bother to look at him, my annoyance palpable. “Don’t spoil my mood,” I muttered under my breath.

A short laugh erupted from the man beside me, cutting through the tension. “Mood? Looks more like you’re drowning yourself.”

I turned to face him, a smirk creeping onto my lips as I recognized Ethan. Of all the faces I wanted to see, his was the last.

“And what do you care, Ethan?” I shot back, the sarcasm dripping from my words.

He leaned against the counter, a self-assured posture that grated on my nerves. “Looks like you got dumped.”

I let out a bitter laugh, the sound scraping my throat raw. “Dumped? You wish. Even if Bailey were to dump me, she’d never choose you.”

His jaw clenched, anger flashing in his eyes. “What the fuck did you just say?”

I shrugged, my smirk unwavering. “You heard me. Bailey will never be yours. She knows better than that.”

His hands twitched, as if he were itching to throw a punch, and I almost wished he would.

But instead, he forced a smile that looked more like a grimace. “Enjoy the fantasy while it lasts. Because Bailey belongs with me.”

I raised my glass in a mocking toast, the bitterness of our exchange hanging in the air. “Keep dreaming, Ethan.”

After that, silence fell between us, or at least it felt that way. I continued to drink, the world around me fading into the background.

Ethan’s phone buzzed, pulling my attention momentarily. I glanced at it lazily, but the name that flashed on the screen made my stomach twist in knots.

Marco.

My hand froze mid-air, my heart racing.

He quickly declined the call, but when his gaze met mine, I felt the tension spike.

The smirk faded from my face, replaced by a sense of dread.

“How do you know Marco?” I asked, my voice dropping to a low, cautious tone.

For a fleeting moment, the color drained from Ethan’s face, only to be replaced by a mask of calm.

“What makes you think it’s the same Marco you know?” he replied slowly, his words laced with a hint of defensiveness.

Before I could respond, the bar door swung open with a creak.

And there he was. Marco.

He strolled in as if he owned the place, each step smooth and confident, his presence commanding attention. His eyes scanned the bar until they landed on us, a predatory glint in his gaze.

My heart raced as I tensed, every instinct screaming at me to flee.

Marco approached slowly, deliberately, like a predator circling its prey.

He stopped just a few feet from Ethan, tilting his head with an amused expression. “Well, well,” he said, his voice a mix of sharpness and softness. “We’ve met before, haven’t we? How delightful.”

Ethan’s glare could have pierced through steel, but Marco seemed unfazed. He reached for Ethan’s glass without asking, lifted it, and downed it in one fluid motion. Then, with a casual flick of his cigar, he sent a cloud of smoke into the air, as if he had all the time in the world.

“What did you find out this time?” Marco asked, his tone almost mocking, as he flicked ash carelessly to the floor.

“You look… sullen,” he added, feigning concern.

He opened his arms wide, as if we were old friends. “Kaleb, Kaleb, Kaleb.”

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