Chapter 85
Kent shot Brandon a puzzled look.
Brandon had gone poker–faced, icy to the core, even his gaze was frosty. For a split second, Kent caught a glimpse of pure resolve and a touch of ruthlessness in those eyes, a sort of all–or–nothing.
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damn the consequences determination. His hand swiftly moved to sign the contract, but then Brandon suddenly slammed the pen down on the table with a loud “snap.”
“Sorry, the house ain’t for sale.” Dropping the words coldly, Brandon spun on his heel and left, leaving behind a confused real estate agent and the would–be new tenant.
Kent hurried over to try and smooth things over. “My bad. There’s a bit of a snag with that place, and I thought better of screwing you guys over.
“What’s the deal?” the prospective tenant blew up on the spot. If there’s an issue, why the heck are you trying to pawn it off on us?”
“Really sorry about this,” Kent said with a string of apologetic grins, shooting the agent a knowing look. He slipped him some hush money to soothe the customer before finding an excuse to duck out early.
Back at the office, Kent found Brandon staring into space at his desk, a blank look on his face, absentmindedly twirling a fountain pen in his hand.
Feeling Kent’s eyes on him, Brandon glanced his way. “Kent.”
Kent quickly approached. “Mr. Crawley, something the matter?”
“Buy me that house Sophia had.”
Kent was speechless.
He hesitated, not daring to ask more and simply nodded. “Alright.”
Sophia’s place had been sold before she left the country, but luckily the buyer wasn’t in a rush to move in, so it was still untouched.
Kent bought the house back at a price well above market value.
When he handed the keys over to Brandon, Kent saw him zone out while staring at them for so long that he wondered if Brandon had forgotten he was there. Eventually, Brandon pocketed the keys and looked at him
“Kent, thanks.”
Kent was shook, never before had Brandon thanked him so earnestly and calmly.
He tugged at his lips awkwardly. “Mr. Crawley, are you alright?”
Brandon shook his head, silent, his gaze drifting past Kent to the trash can, where he paused,
Kent felt something was seriously off with Brandon and couldn’t help but tentatively suggest. “Mr. Crawley, if you can’t let go, maybe you should go after her.”
“There’s nothing to let go of or not let go of, Brandon replied nonchalantly, his voice faint. The burnished keys twirled once or twice in his palm, and with a flick, they arced beautifully through the air and landed with a “thunk‘ in the trash can behind Kent.
Kent hesitated, glancing back at the trash can, then at Brandon, whose eyelids were half–drawn and expression almost unreadable.
Kent moved to retrieve the keys, but Brandon’s gaze stopped him. “Leave them.”
Kent’s hand, reaching for the trash can, fraze.
Its over between her and me, Brandon said, pushing away the keyboard with force, standing up, and walking away without a backward glance:
Watching his retreating figure, Kent felt an unexplained twinge of sadness.
He had seen the way Brandon and Sophia looked at each other. He had always believed that was love, the kind that didn’t need many words, where a single look conveyed it all.
Kent sighed softly to himself, withdrawing his gaze to the keys lying quietly in the trash can, and bent down to
