Never Quite Gone: An MM Romance by Greyson Vale

Author:Greyson Vale [Vale, Greyson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-03-13T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 15

Brother’s Keeper

Alex's text had seemed simple enough. Dinner at his place, a chance to talk after my forced leave from the hospital. Just what I needed after the week I'd had – quiet conversation, maybe some answers about the strange memories that kept surfacing.

Instead, I stood frozen in a mansion's grand foyer, surrounded by New York's elite in evening wear that probably cost more than my yearly salary. My casual blazer and jeans might as well have been hospital scrubs for how out of place they looked among the designer suits and cocktail dresses.

“Breathe,” Rachel whispered, squeezing my arm. Thank god I'd called her in panic from the car. She'd arrived in record time, somehow perfectly dressed in a deep blue gown that looked like she'd planned for this all along.

“It's just people.”

People who looked effortlessly elegant, while I felt like a lost medical resident who'd stumbled into the wrong event. I glanced at her, about to protest, and finally took in the full picture—her perfect posture despite the undeniable swell of her stomach.

I exhaled. “You’re six months pregnant. How are you still making this look easy?”

She smirked, shifting just enough to nudge me forward with the weight of her very-much-there baby bump. “Because I’m not the one panicking in a rich man’s doorway.”

But it wasn't just people. It was the Rothschilds' annual family gathering – old money, corporate power, and social influence all wrapped in perfect tailoring and practiced smiles. I felt like an intruder in a world I didn't belong in.

“I'm going to kill him,” I muttered, earning a small laugh from my sister.

“No, you're not. You're going to smile and let me handle the small talk.” She smoothed my collar with practiced efficiency. “Besides, you look fine. Distinguished, even.”

“Distinguished” wasn't the word for how I felt watching silver-haired society matrons whisper behind their hands, their gazes sharp with curiosity.

Alex found us before I could convince Rachel to help me escape. He looked devastatingly handsome in a tuxedo that probably cost more than my car, but his eyes held apologetic understanding as he approached.

“I'm so sorry,” he murmured, close enough that only Rachel and I could hear. “I didn't know Father had moved the party date. I would have warned you.”

He looked genuinely distressed at my discomfort, and something about his concern helped steady my nerves.

“It's fine,” I lied, but managed a small smile. “Though some warning would have been nice.”

Rachel, bless her teacher's instincts for social navigation, smoothly deflected attention from my inappropriate attire by engaging nearby socialites in conversation about her school's charity program. She had them eating out of her hand within minutes, their initial disdain melting into genuine interest as she described the impact of arts education on underprivileged students.

But I still felt eyes on me – calculating, curious, judging. This wasn't my world. Give me a trauma bay any day over these shark-filled social waters.

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