The Brother I Was Never Supposed to Want

Chapter 24

Ava left her studio and went to visit Chloe.

...

Ava sat cross-legged on Chloe’s worn velvet couch, the mysterious gift box resting on the coffee table between them like a live grenade. Late afternoon light filtered through the half-drawn curtains of Chloe’s apartment, casting long shadows across the eclectic mix of thrift-store art and fashion sketches pinned to the walls.

“You’re telling me someone just left this at your studio door? No card, no note, nothing?” Chloe asked, leaning forward with wide eyes.

Ava nodded, twisting the hem of her oversized sweater. “Just this. And it’s… beautiful. Expensive. I thought maybe Nathan, but...”

Chloe let out a sharp laugh, picking up the brushes and letting it catch the light. “Girl, if this is from Nathan, he’s got better taste than I gave him credit for. This isn’t some basic tools.

She set it down and her expression sobered. “But seriously, Ava. Don’t jump straight to Nathan. Not every grand gesture has his name on it.”

Ava frowned. “Who else would...”

“Exactly. That’s the problem with dating a Walker. People start circling. Competitors. Social climbers. Exes. Hell, even people who just want to stir the pot.”

Chloe reached over and squeezed her friend’s hand. “I love that you’re happy with him. I really do. But you need to keep your eyes open. Nathan comes with baggage the size of a private jet. Hidden motives are basically part of the family crest.”

Ava exhaled slowly, staring at the package.

Chloe’s words landed heavier than she wanted to admit. The warmth she’d felt opening the gift cooled into something more cautious. “I hate that you’re right.”

“I know,” Chloe said with a wry smile. “It’s my least favorite quality.”

---

Across town, the boardroom at Walker Enterprises hummed with restrained tension. Nathan sat at the long mahogany table, jaw tight, as his father held court at the head.

Richard Walker’s voice carried the smooth authority of decades in command.

“Isabella’s insights on the Foundation have been invaluable. Her vision for expanding our philanthropic reach aligns perfectly with our long-term goals.”

He turned toward Nathan with a calculated smile. “I believe she should work more closely with you on this, son. The two of you together would make quite the team.”

The room shifted. A few board members exchanged glances. Nathan kept his expression neutral, though his grip on his pen tightened until the plastic creaked.

“I appreciate the suggestion,” Nathan replied evenly, “but the Foundation’s current structure is working well. I prefer to keep operational leadership streamlined for now.”

Richard’s smile didn’t waver, but his eyes sharpened. “Of course. We wouldn’t want to disrupt anything… prematurely.” He let the word hang just long enough for the implication to settle.

The meeting moved on, but the undercurrent remained. Nathan could feel the speculative weight of the room, the subtle recalibration of alliances. His father had just drawn a line in public, and everyone had seen it.

As the board filed out, Nathan lingered. Richard approached, voice low.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be, Nathan.”

Nathan met his father’s gaze. “I could say the same.”

---

Later that afternoon, sunlight poured through the tall windows of Ava’s studio, illuminating half-finished canvases and scattered charcoal sketches. She was lost in her work when a soft knock pulled her back to reality.

She opened the door to find Ethan standing there, no flowers this time. Instead, he held a worn leather sketchbook, its edges frayed with age.

“Hi,” he said quietly. “Can I come in for a minute?”

Ava hesitated, then stepped aside. “A minute.”

He entered slowly, glancing around at the evolution of her space since he’d last seen it. He set the sketchbook on the worktable with care.

“I found this while cleaning out some boxes,” he said. “It’s yours. From… before. You left it at my apartment years ago. I should’ve returned it sooner.”

Ava picked it up, flipping through pages filled with her younger, more tentative lines, dreams and doubts captured in graphite. A strange ache bloomed in her chest. “Thank you. I thought I’d lost this.”

Ethan watched her, hands in his pockets. “I should have appreciated what was right in front of me a long time ago, Ava. Not just your talent. You. I was too wrapped up in my own ambitions qnd thinking you'd always be there, too stupid to see how rare you are.” His voice softened. “I know I’ve said sorry before. I’m not here to pressure you. I just… needed you to know I finally get it.”

She closed the sketchbook gently and met his eyes. “I appreciate you bringing this back, Ethan. And I believe you’re sorry. But nothing’s changed. I’ve moved on. You should too.”

He nodded, a flicker of pain crossing his face. “I understand. I just hope one day we can be friends again. You were always the best part of my life.”

After he left, Ava stood in the quiet studio, holding the old sketchbook. The past and present felt uncomfortably close.

---

The gallery space for Ava’s upcoming exhibition buzzed with quiet activity, workers adjusting lights, hanging pieces. Ava had stepped out for coffee when she returned to find Isabella examining one of her larger abstracts with apparent admiration.

“Isabella,” Ava said, surprised.

The woman turned with a warm, effortless smile. “Ava! I was just passing by and saw the activity. I hope you don’t mind me sneaking a peek. Your work is stunning. Truly. There’s such emotional depth here. Raw, but controlled. It’s rare.”

Ava felt herself soften slightly under the sincere praise. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

They chatted for a few minutes, Isabella asking thoughtful questions about technique and inspiration. She was charming, engaged, the picture of supportive elegance.

As she prepared to leave, Isabella paused near the door. Her voice dropped, laced with gentle concern.

“I hope you don’t get hurt, Ava.

Nathan has a habit of carrying the weight of the whole world on his shoulders. It’s admirable… until it crushes everything around him.”

Ava froze, the words landing like a quiet blade. Isabella gave her one last sympathetic smile and slipped out, leaving the gallery feeling suddenly colder.

Was that a warning? Or something meant to scare her away?

---

Ava’s phone rang as she was still turning the encounter over in her mind. Nathan’s name lit up the screen.

She answered with a small smile. “Hey.”

“Hey yourself.” His voice was warm, a welcome anchor. “I was wondering if you’d like to have dinner with Alex and me tomorrow. Nothing formal. Just the three of us. He’s been asking about you.”

“I’d love that,” she started to say, warmth blooming in her chest.

A loud, insistent knock echoed through the studio.

“Hold on,” Ava said. “Someone’s at the door.”

She crossed the room and opened it.

Erica stood there, perfectly composed, glossy hair cascading over her shoulders and a bright, familiar smile on her face. As if she hadn’t tried to sabotage Ava’s life. As if nothing had ever happened.

“Surprise,” Erica said sweetly. “Miss me?”

---

Nathan’s voice still sounded faintly from the phone in Ava’s hand. “Ava? Everything okay?”

But she couldn’t answer. Not yet.