Billionaire's Touch(7)

“Naw. I’m good. Jared is putting me and Julian up in his guesthouse. Now that Mara doesn’t need it for her business anymore, it’s empty. Julian won’t be coming in until tomorrow. He can’t stay long—now that he’s been nominated for an Academy Award, he thinks he’s busy.” Micah smirked as he stood and retrieved his suitcase from one of the spacious closets on the plane. “He’s shooting his next movie in a month, and the award ceremonies are in just a couple of weeks. I guess he’s been bombarded for interviews.”

Evan knew that Micah might be teasing but was actually really proud of Julian. Honestly, Evan was proud of him, too. Julian had tried never to use his power as a Sinclair or his inherited money in his pursuit of stardom. He’d played the small parts, worked his way up in the movie industry. When he’d finally landed a leading role in a film after years of struggling, he’d done it by the merit of his own talent. Being nominated for an Oscar was proof that he’d really made it because of his own abilities.

“I hope he wins,” Evan grumbled as he gathered the rest of the things he’d need while in Amesport. He didn’t need much. His assistant had sent all of the necessities to his home here a while ago.

“Me too,” Micah admitted as they headed closer to the door of the aircraft, pulling on his dark-blue ski jacket. Evan donned his black wool dress coat.

“How’s Xander?” Evan didn’t want to ask the question, but he felt compelled to know how his youngest cousin was doing.

Micah shrugged a little too nonchalantly as he moved toward the exit. “The same. I never know from one day to the next what to expect with him now. He’s not coming for Hope’s party.”

“Is he on or off the wagon?” Evan asked cautiously as he followed Micah’s lead.

“On for now,” Micah replied with a heavy sigh. “But I’m not certain how long it will last.”

Evan’s heart sank, and he hurt for all of his cousins. After a tragic incident several months ago, Xander had abruptly quit his successful career as a musician and had been spiraling downhill ever since. He was drinking heavily, and was addicted to the very drugs that were supposed to help him. It reminded Evan of a period in Jared’s life that he didn’t even want to think about.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Micah.” He really was sorry, because he could relate. It was hell wondering if your brother was going to make it through the challenge of facing life again, or if he was going to keep going down until he hit rock bottom and stayed there. Worse yet, would they all get the news that Xander had fallen all the way and would never be getting up again?

“I hate feeling this damn helpless to do anything else. He’s been in rehab, and he refuses any further help. I don’t know whether to give him time, or wrestle him into a safe place where he can’t hurt himself,” Micah told Evan huskily, his voice vibrating with sorrow.

“I know.” Evan followed Micah down the stairs of the plane and clapped him on the back as they reached solid ground. “You’ve done all that you can do. Xander has to want to stay clean.”

The bitter-cold Maine winter wind blasted them both mercilessly as they exited the sleek aircraft, but Micah’s expression stayed grim, as though he was thinking too much to even feel the brutally frigid air. His dark-blond hair ruffled in the breeze, but he seemed totally oblivious to his surroundings. “Have I done everything I can?” he asked quietly, almost as though he were talking to himself rather than Evan.

“You have,” Evan replied staunchly. There was no reason for Micah to feel otherwise. “Let’s get to the car. I’ll give you a lift to the Peninsula.”

“Thanks,” Micah acknowledged gratefully, nodding at Evan like he was silently thanking him for his support, even though neither one of them would voice their emotions aloud. “My car is already at Jared’s place.”

Evan watched as Micah jogged toward the Rolls, shaking his head as he thought about the mess Xander was in at the moment. Thank God those days of worrying about the sanity of a younger brother were over for him, and Jared had finally healed. But Evan couldn’t help but have sympathy pains for his eldest cousin. He’d been where Micah was now, and it had been pure hell just dealing with Jared’s alcohol binge. He couldn’t imagine adding drugs into the mix.

“Welcome to Amesport, sir,” his gray-haired chauffeur told him in a monotone voice, a sound that always greeted Evan in nearly every city he visited. His driver was dressed just as he always was: a gray suit and tie, his silver hair seemingly immaculate even though the wind was blowing. He took Evan’s small suitcase and his laptop from his hands and put both in the front seat.