Chapter 78

They pulled up the long drive. Donald jerked the Cobra to a halt in front of the house and threw the keys on the seat. He walked to the passenger door, picked Brian up into his arms, and carried him up the porch steps. Mrs. Santore stood at the door, but Donald brushed right past, looking back to say, “Brandy, my suite.”

Brian’s chest began to heave with the effort of holding back his tears of loss and frustration. He felt dirty, used, and he knew he was now unworthy of Donald’s care.

Donald took the stairs two at a time. He made a quick right at the top and opened the door to the Master Suite. He took great care placing Brian on a leather chaise and disappeared into the bathroom. As soon as Donald left the room, Brian felt the tears begin. He couldn’t hold them in anymore. It didn’t matter, nothing mattered. He had managed to lose it all. He curled into a ball and cried deep, soul wrenching sobs, which bespoke pain so deep, it pierced the soul.