Seattle wasn't that different from Chicago. Tall buildings, busy streets, fast-paced citizens that had their shit way more together than a chef who was flying by the seat of his pants. There was no plan. Well, Seattle had been the plan for the last two years, but uplifting life completely in a matter of days was not part of it. For instance, I had money—quite a lot from teaching alone—that was not set aside for the Airbnb I was currently staying in. Seven days here was worth not having to worry about bed bugs in some overused hotel room that was lacking a thorough cleaning. However, it was not worth the dent in the bank account. I needed to find something and something soon.

It took a few days getting used to the transportation system. I'd spent the week dressing out of my suitcase and skipping breakfast to make a commuter bus. Compared to Chicago busses, they were fairly clean, thankfully. Today would be the first time I needed to take the metro. I was scheduled to meet a realtor and view a new restaurant space. Of all the places I'd scoped out, the one today looked the most promising. Especially because it had an apartment in the basement. If I could save on two spaces for one price, that would be a definite bonus for cutting the plan short by a few years.

Stepping off the railcar, I took a sip of scorching hot coffee. It burned my tongue, but damn, it felt good in my cold chest. It reminded me that the body I was filling was still living, even if it didn't feel like it lately. I felt numb. Hopefully, today would be the day I'd find the perfect spot for my restaurant. This would be the first step in finding myself again.

The old brick building was only two blocks from the metro's stopping point—a definite bonus. Maybe I wouldn't need a car. That was so long as Seattle didn't get as much snow as the Midwest in the winter. An empty, lit sign hung above the door, making me question what the hell I would even name the place. My name was out of the question. My name was supposed to be left back in Chicago with the family and restaurant that still claimed it. This blank sign made my stomach churn with anxiety.

"Oliver?" My name was being questioned by an abnormally tall, but very attractive, woman.

The stranger held a binder with a set of keys. Her long black hair was extremely curly and loose. I found it a little weird that she was wearing a nametag—displaying the name of Holly and the realty business—when it was just going to be the two of us at this showing. Was I not supposed to trust her without it?

Seattle was weird.

"That's me." I sighed, wondering if I should have worn my name. That just seemed stupid.

"Great!" She placed a key in the lock, turning it until we heard a thunk. "I'm Holly. I'll be showing you around the building today."

The glass door was unlocked to give way to a lobby that was perfect for a waiting and hostess area. It was smaller than the area Mulligan's used back home, but the actual floor of the restaurant, I knew, had almost double the occupancy limit. Hopefully, there wouldn't be much of a wait for people to be seated.

"Do you have other restaurants, or will this be your first?"

I sipped from my coffee and scanned the room again, not meeting her direct eye contact. "I own one with family back in Chicago. I'm its chef."

"Oh, great!" she exclaimed. "You'll love the area. It's very up and coming."

Up and coming... not the words I wanted to hear. Up and coming meant trendy. Trendy food meant a menu that constantly changed and rarely had the time to perfect anything. If I took this place, it was going out on a major limb that the people of this area would be interested in classic home-style dishes with my signature touch and flavors.

"This listing mentioned an apart..." The door chimed behind me, cutting off my question.

"Sorry I'm late." Mikah's apology made my head spin over my shoulder. There stood my brother, dropping his coat off of his shoulders with his hand extended towards the realtor for a shake. "Mikah Mulligan... Ollie's business partner and brother."

This wasn't happening. Mikah could not be here, in Seattle, at a showing he was never invited to. There was no way he could have even known about it. My eyes were not deceiving me, though. My younger brother was here, dressed for success. The moron had even cut off the stupid bun off the top of his head. Although his hair was still on the shaggy side, he no longer looked like he was a twenty-something scene-kid trying to be a hipster bartender.

"Mikah." I growled, my irritation already getting the better of me.

"I really do apologize for being late," Mikah continued, ignoring me. "My brother neglected to tell me we were becoming a chain."

I clutched Mikah's upper arm firmly to drag him away. We needed to chat... in private. "Excuse us."

"No problem." Holly smiled sweetly, already looking like she was ready to end our showing.

I directed Mikah out of the lobby and to the main floor of the restaurant. There was a bar area we were going to use as a place to discuss Mikah's serious lack of respect for privacy. Thankfully, this bar was completely void of any sort of bottle I could smash over my little brother's head. Odds were in Mikah's favor... this time.

"How the hell did you find me here?" I looked around the restaurant for the beacon that was honed over me. There had to be one somewhere. "I didn't tell anyone where I was going to be."

Mikah rocked on his heels proudly. "Lies. You told your Google Home exactly where you'd be today."

My lips formed a hard line. That traitor. It wasn't the Google Home that I told of the showing. It was my calendar that I had long ago linked to the device. I knew I hated the damn thing for a reason.

"And you just broke into the apartment to invade my privacy?"

"Your privacy where that apartment is concerned went out the fucking window when you walked out."

Mikah took it upon himself to pull a flipped barstool from off the top of the bar to place it back to the floor. He then took a second stool down for me before taking a seat. His jacket was tossed to the empty bar top, where he fished through one of its pockets for a few moments before pulling out a handful of what he needed.

"Double bubble?" He offered a brightly packaged piece of chewing gum.

"You're a child."

"Last I checked, I'm not the one in the family that throws tantrums. Do you want a piece or not?"

With narrowed eyes, I took a piece for myself and took the stool beside Mikah. "My calendar only had the realtor's name. How did you find me? Can they give away that information?"

"No." Mikah's head shook, still appearing pleased with himself. "I then used your Google Home to search for listings by this realtor. Wasn't too hard to know exactly which listing you were looking at."

"How so?"

Mikah's palms lifted, and he looked around the closed establishment and back to me. "Dude, this is Mulligan's 2.0. The brick walls, the old booths, the bar, the stamped ceiling..."

I swallowed hard. I unwrapped the chewing gum and tossed the piece into my mouth. It tasted like fake flavoring, with a side of cancer-inducing agents used for color. It tasted like absolute shit. I continued to chew it, anyway. The flavor was gone within about ten seconds.

"Tell me I'm wrong," Mikah said.

I couldn't. There were some resemblances to the restaurant I'd left in the dust. It wasn't all the same, though. There wasn't a cocky bartender, or a kitchen full of staff, that cursed the day I'd taken over for my father. There wasn't a piece-of-shit ex-girlfriend to handle the books, or an office that reminded me of the day I'd killed my dad. There wasn't a girl who I wanted more than anything by my side, getting me to let my guard down with the simple drop of her bangs into her beautiful face.

"It's different."

"It's not."

"Why are you here?" I barked back. "Tell Mom she wasted sending you on this trip to fetch me. I don't appreciate being stalked. I'm not going back."

"I would, but she doesn't know that I'm here. No one does. I'm a lone wolf."

Mikah was probably the last person I thought would show up in Seattle to retrieve me, with Mom being the first, and Kit probably second. Somehow, I knew deep down Sloan wouldn't bother me here. I didn't have to see her face after I left her standing there to know she was upset.

"You left the love of your life back at Mulligan's. That's why I'm here."

My eyes rolled, and I leaned back into the barstool with a huff. "You came all this way to continue this? I told you I don't give a shit about Shelby. You still want her? She's all yours."

"I fired Shelby." Mikah leaned on his elbows. "Hope you don't mind that I made that executive decision without your input. She's not who I'm talking about, and you know it."

Right now, I would have killed for a toothpick. I looked away from Mikah towards the vacant restaurant. I didn't want to think about leaving Sloan back in Chicago. Efforts were proving to be futile. She was a hard girl to forget. Especially after the last words she spoke to me.

"Fired the misses, eh?" I took another piece of Mikah's Double Bubble. "I think I would have paid to see that go down. How will she afford all those shoes she loves to throw when she's angry?"

"Don't."

"Don't what?"

"Don't make jokes to hide that you're not okay."

"I'm not!" I yelled louder than necessary. "Stop acting like you know me!"

"Because I do know you!" Mikah's voice boomed louder than mine. "For fuck's sake, Ollie! Have you forgotten we grew up together? I know you better than anyone!"

Maybe a long time ago that was true. Not anymore. No one knew me anymore. Hell, I didn't know myself.

"Ollie, Dad's death was not your fault."

"Shut up." My head shook. This was not a subject that was up for discussion. The only person I felt remotely comfortable talking about my dad with was Sloan, and that's because she didn't know him. "You know nothing about..."

"You did not kill him," Mikah continued. "He was sick, Ollie. The man was mentally exhausted for years, and you are hitting that point too. Running away from the restaurant will not make the fact that he is gone any better."

"You weren't there!" I didn't want to hear it. The bar was becoming stuffy, and my fingers were frantically trying to unbutton my jacket to get more air. "You were not in that barn..."

"I didn't have to be in the barn." Mikah reached out and put his hand on my shoulder to calm me. "The location had nothing to do with you. It was somewhere high, where he could be alone. I'm sure he didn't expect you to walk in. He had no way of knowing you were even in town that day. It wasn't to make you feel bad for hanging a swing as a kid, or to make you feel bad for wanting the restaurant. I mean... shit, maybe he chose the barn because of Kit's assault happening there. Maybe he chose the barn because he hated the farm as much as Mom hated the restaurant. Maybe he chose it because that's where I told him I was dropping out of school, and we had our big blowout. We won't ever know why he chose the goddamn barn. It wasn't your fault."

My face became saturated with tears before I could prevent it. I used the sleeve of my jacket to wipe them away. I probably hadn't cried in front of Mikah since we were kids, and I wasn't about to make a habit out of it.

"Come home," Mikah begged. "Tell Sloan how much she means to you. We all see it. Everyone wants you home. Even me. Who else am I going to piss off every day? It's part of my job description."

"You're so full of shit." My head shook no as I stared up at the stamped ceiling of the old building. Mikah may have been right. It was very similar to the one back home that was in the kitchen and moved to my bathroom. "I'm a shit brother. I'm a shit son. The kitchen staff is on the brink of walking out on me... as they should because I'm not Dad."

"You're not a horrible son." Mikah lifted his finger. "Jury is still out on a shit brother. Next time, sit me down and tell me the truth about my girlfriend being the worst, like a man. I'm letting that shit slide this time. I got what I deserved. In my defense, I lost my dad and my brother that day. I was upset, and lonely, and needed someone to talk to who knew him. You shut down and weren't there. And as for the kitchen staff, Ollie, the only reason those guys stayed after Dad was because of you. They love you like a son, and they are just as worried about you as we are. They aren't going anywhere. Kit and I helped you buy the restaurant for a reason. We would not let those guys lose their jobs, and they wanted to make sure you were okay. They even chipped in for the plane ticket to get me here to bring you back. Come home."

My head continued shaking no as I swiped more tears away. "I need a fresh start. I want more control over what I'm creating."

"I will ease up on the menu under one condition... and that's for you to go to grief counseling," Mikah offered with an extended hand for me to shake on a deal. "And I'd really like if we could keep bands on the weekends, but I'm leaving that up to you."

"Uh, Mr. Mulligan?" the realtor interrupted. With us both being Mr. Mulligan, we both turned to see her pointing at her watch. "I hate to pressure you, but I have another showing across town in a half hour."

"Ollie, don't take this place. You want Mulligan's. You always have. Come home. That kitchen isn't the same without you. You grew up in it. It's yours. You know Dad loved that restaurant too. He'd want you there."

I looked back at the extended hand. I was finally here, in Seattle, sitting in what could be my restaurant. So what if I wanted it to look like home? That meant nothing.

I stood quickly, leaving Mikah at the bar and walking back to the realtor, who didn't need her damn name plastered to her jacket.

"Ollie!" Mikah cried out so loud that it echoed through the room. Footsteps sounded off behind me. "You think you don't deserve to be happy because of Shelby and Dad, and it's bullshit! Sloan is the best thing to happen to you, and you're running from her! You're a fucking coward!"

Holly's eyes were like saucers as I stormed past her. "I'll take it."