by Alyssa Kress
CHAPTER FOUR
"I don't see any big problem here." Grover Hamilton was an older man, balding, and with a protruding belly, evidently sedentary. The lawyer Clint had called from Brennan's list had a confident and reassuring manner, something reflected in his carpeted office with the old-fashioned curtains and the many plaques of recognition on the wall.
"The minor has family who want to take him in. The family member who wants him is even mentioned in the deceased parent's will. All pretty straightforward."
The lawyer's knowledgeable manner had both Clint and Erica relaxing, Brennan saw. Clint's raised shoulders lowered, and Erica's whole body seemed to soften. When she let go like that, Brennan could see how tensed she usually walked around.
For his part, Brennan was used to slick salesmen who employed a warm bedside manner to convince a customer he was in good hands. What impressed him about the attorney were the references Brennan had called, all of whom had recommended Hamilton as a professional who knew his business and got good results.
So Brennan could stay in the background here, just as he'd planned. He was determined to maintain as small a part as he could get away with and still see Liam settled.
In particular, he wanted to keep his distance from Erica. It had been difficult having her over with Liam for dinner last night. The situation had felt both fraught and...right. Fraught with way too much physical desire. The rightness had no doubt been delusional. But he'd enjoyed coaxing her to relax a little. Seeing her able to do so had made him feel strong and powerful. He'd felt the wish to continue exercising such power, to warm her up until she softened even more. Until she was so soft and warm she could warm him, too.
Which led straight back to what was wrong with this picture. The sexual element. He could not afford to entertain such feelings toward Erica. The way she made him feel, the power behind the sensation—it went way beyond the comfortable relationships he'd engaged in over the past nine years of his recovery. It was dangerous.
In the chair behind his desk, Grover Hamilton spread his arms. "You're in California. You don't even have to apply for a formal guardianship if you don't want to."
Brennan saw Clint and Erica relax even more. But they hadn't asked the hard questions. He was going to have to interject, after all.
"What about Richard's pension?" To one side of Clint, Brennan leaned slightly forward in his chair. "My understanding is it's supposed to be paid out to his remaining minor child. Doesn't someone have to take over that income, manage it?"
"Oh, there's money involved?" Hamilton raised his eyebrows. "That's different, then."
Clint and Erica exchanged glances.
Clint straightened in his seat. "How so?"
"When a minor has any significant money to be handled, a conservator will have to be appointed by the court. In that case, the court will also want to appoint a legal guardian."
"What does that mean, 'the court'?" Erica asked.
"A judge. There will be a hearing. Let me back up a step. You'll fill out an application, something you can get at the courthouse. You can fill it out yourself, but I can help as it's rather lengthy. Notice must be given to the minor himself, since your brother is over twelve, and to any other close relatives. There will probably be a home visit, someone who'll interview the applicant and check out the situation. A review of the minor's health and school records. The investigator's report and recommendation will go to the judge who'll conduct the hearing."
"A home visit," Clint muttered.
Brennan knew he was thinking about Judy. Though she'd left the apartment—and the responsibility for the rent—to Clint, it wasn't as though she'd really left. And if she got word an investigator was coming to inspect Clint, she'd be sure to make trouble.
Erica threw Clint a worried glance and then turned to the attorney. "But it's all just a formality, right? I mean, our father named Clint in his will to be Liam's guardian."
Hamilton's smile was less reassuring now. "Nothing is a shoo-in when it comes to family court. The judge will do what he deems in the best interest of the child." Looking between Clint and Erica, the attorney cocked his head. "Something you want to tell me?"
After a brief hesitation, Clint spread his hands. "Uh, my situation is in a state of transition right now. I've separated from my wife, and she's being...difficult."
Hamilton leaned forward over his desk. He drew a pen and a piece of paper in front of himself. "Difficult—how?"
"Stalking me. Creating scenes."
Hamilton made a note on his paper. "I see. And is this affecting you financially?"
Clint shifted weight in his chair. "The bank accounts are all in her name. At the time— Anyway, right. I can't say my finances are very good at the moment."
Hamilton made some more notes. His voice was neutral. "I see."
Brennan briefly closed his eyes. He'd suspected Clint's situation might be a problem, but he'd wanted to hear an expert confirm it before taking action. He cleared his throat, prepared to speak.
"What about a backup person?" It was Erica's voice.
Brennan opened his eyes to see her sitting very straight in her chair, eyeing the attorney intently. "Could we put me down as a backup? I mean, we don't want to let Liam down here."
Hamilton regarded her from over his piece of paper. "A 'backup person'." He straightened and let out a long breath. "You two are going to have to decide who's taking the responsibility. Now, the same person doesn't have to act as conservator who acts as guardian, but regarding the latter— One thing the court is going to want to see is commitment."
Erica visibly swallowed, but her voice remained even. "I see. Uh, then who's going to look like a more reasonable choice? Between me and Clint?"
Brennan regarded her in surprise. Was she thinking of taking this on? With the level of commitment Hamilton was talking about?
Hamilton picked up his pen again and resumed taking notes. "Are you married? Getting divorced?"
"Neither."
"What about finances?"
"I'm not rich, but I'm okay."
Looking up, Hamilton set down his pen and folded his hands. "Between you and Clint—what do you think?"
Swallowing again, Erica hesitated but then nodded. "Okay, I get it. Me."
Brennan sat transfixed. Hell, she wasn't standoffish or irresponsible at all. His first impression of Erica had obviously been distorted. Perhaps what he'd actually been feeling on the night they'd first met had been dislike for himself. He'd been seeing himself the way he'd supposed she would—if she knew his real story and how, exactly, he'd met her father.
Thinking about his past made Brennan swallow, too.
After thanking the attorney for his time, the three of them walked out of his office.
When they were out on the sidewalk, Clint stopped and turned to the others. His face was tight. "I want to do this."
"I know." Erica put a hand on his arm. "And I think you will, eventually. But for right now, we have to consider another option."
"You didn't sign up for it," Clint told her.
"He's my brother, too."
Clint looked down and shook his head. "I'm such a mess."
Erica opened and closed her mouth, apparently at a loss.
"You'll get through this," Brennan put in. "It's a temporary situation."
Anger rose into Clint's expression. "Is it? I always seem to be getting into messes, so it doesn't much matter if they're temporary or not."
"Look." Erica tightened her hold on his arm. "Nothing's on fire yet. Why don't we take a couple days, think this through? Then we'll make a decision and fill out the application."
Clint broke from her hold. "Nothing's going to change in a couple days." With an angry hiss, he whirled and stalked off.
He left Brennan alone on the sidewalk with Erica.
"Wow." Erica regarded Clint as he stalked away under the row of eucalyptus trees shading the sidewalk. "This Judy has really done a number on him, hasn't she?"
"I can't say I
'm a big fan of hers." Brennan, also, looked toward the departing Clint. It was easier than looking at Erica. "But he will get past it." If Brennan, with his additional handicap, had been able to get through the long and painful breakup of his relationship with Lois, then Clint would survive, too.
Erica sighed.
Leave. It was a bad idea for Brennan to stay here alone with this woman, especially since she so obviously wanted someone to talk to. He was the wrong man for that role.
But he didn't move.
Erica slid her hand along her purse strap. "Who knows? Maybe I'd actually be a worse guardian than Clint. Last night— I felt so clumsy with Liam." She glanced quickly at Brennan and away. "It seems easy for you, though."
"We've spent more time together." As soon as the words were out of Brennan's mouth, he wished he could take them back. He hadn't meant to sound like he was blaming her for her long absence. Frantically, he tried to retrench. "But mostly, we're both guys. Makes for automatic understanding."
With a short laugh, Erica kept her gaze averted. "I don't know. I feel like I'll never be completely comfortable with Liam. His view of my father and mine are so different."
Brennan swallowed. Compassion mixed with guilt. Probably not a healthy combination. "You'll make it." He cleared his throat of hoarseness. "Just like I told Clint. So will you."
She turned to look at him. In her eyes was a cautious hope.
The expression in her face made his chest hurt.
Whispering, she said, "I feel so mixed up. About my dad, I mean."
The pain in Brennan's chest expanded, stirred generously with the previous guilt. He was the exact wrong person for her to confide in. But he couldn't leave her hanging with her last thought. "Every day is going to be a little bit better." Hadn't that been true of his own recovery? Every day was still a challenge, but the sharp edge had definitely dulled.
She appeared to consider this advice, and then a small smile curved her lips. "Promise?" Still smiling, she touched his arm exactly as she'd touched Clint's.
Brennan doubted he felt it the same way Clint had. An arrow of desire shafted through him. He wanted to step forward and take her in his arms.
He didn't do that, of course. Of all men, he had the worst credentials for comforting her over the effects of her father's alcoholism.
But neither did he move away. In fact, he put his hand over hers on his arm.
The electricity arcing between them magnified.
Going against everything he knew was healthy and right, Brennan smiled back at her. "I promise," he said.