by Marie Harte
“I was wrong.” Jeremy wouldn’t shut the fuck up. “I gave you a concussion. Black eyes, bruises. I broke your arm in two places, nearly killed you. And the tricks I used to play on you.” He swallowed. “I think about that every day. How I hurt you.”
“A few times,” Alan added as he rose unsteadily to his feet. “Not a big deal. It was all in fun, nothing serious. Remember that old handgun?” He guffawed and pointed at Brody. “Now that shit was funny. Boy, you pissed yourself you was so scared. And it wasn’t even loaded.”
Brody turned and reached for the door. “You aren’t out of here in the next five seconds, I’m calling the cops.”
A hand rested on his shoulder. “Wait. Don’t—”
He turned and decked Jeremy, hit his jaw so hard his brother went down and didn’t get up right away. Then he did the same to Alan when the bastard tried to smack him. His father didn’t get up at all.
“You come here again, I’ll fucking kill the both of you. Get out! Get your motherfucking asses out of my life,” he roared, done with pretending he didn’t hate the sight of them. Of how they reduced him to that scared, needy little kid just by breathing. He was sweating and shaking. And so damn angry he wanted blood.
Jeremy wobbled as he stood and fingered his jaw. “I’m sorry. So sorry, Brody. I was so wrong, such a shit to you and you never deserved it.” The fucker had tears in his eyes. Well, too little, too late.
“Be sorry somewhere else. I hope you rot in hell,” he seethed before letting himself inside and slamming the door behind him.
Mutt whined as Brody leaned his back against the door and slid to the floor, doing his best to even his breathing and calm down. But nothing worked. Memories hit him hard, the way Jeremy’s large fists used to. He heard his father’s high-pitched cackle. Felt the fear overtake him, reducing him to that sobbing mess of a terrified kid. The first year with the McCauleys he’d slept on the floor under his bed, trying to keep out of sight. Until Flynn had started doing it too, so he wouldn’t have to be so alone. So scared.
Still shaking, Brody texted Abby and apologized for canceling. He promised they’d meet another time.
Mutt lay next to him and rested his head in Brody’s lap. And Brody did his best not to cry like the goddamn pussy they’d always accused him of being and clutched the dog tight.
***
A week later, Abby still hadn’t met up with Brody. And it was killing her. He hadn’t answered her calls but had at least texted her. Dealing with some personal issues, he’d said, and politely mentioned he’d call her soon. Not wanting to appear overeager or worried, she’d backed off. But seven days was seven too many. When she’d asked Maddie to question Flynn about Brody’s distance, he’d only said Brody was going through some stuff and needed space.
“Stuff? What is stuff?” she asked Maddie as they prepared dinner. “I mean, it’s one thing if he just doesn’t want to hang out anymore. I’m a big girl. I can take it. Can’t he just tell me in person?”
“I don’t know. Something’s off with him.” Maddie chewed her lip as she rinsed the lettuce for salad. “Flynn’s worried. Brody does his job. He smiles, makes jokes, but Flynn can tell there’s something wrong.” She paused. “I’m not supposed to say anything, so you didn’t hear this from me. Swear.”
“I swear.” Abby tried not to feel hurt that she’d been kicked to the curb. If Brody was dealing with something emotional, she wanted to be supportive. “Come on. Tell me.”
“Well, Flynn said Brody’s been like this a few times in his life. I mean, he and Flynn are super tight. They’ve done everything together since they were in kindergarten. Brody grew up with the McCauleys.”
“Why?”
“Flynn won’t say much, but apparently Brody’s biological family are lower than scum. Flynn and his brothers never knew much about the Singers growing up, only to avoid them if they spotted them. But Brody would visit his dad and brother—I think—every now and then over the years. And every time, he’d withdraw into himself after. So Flynn’s betting that his family contacted him. But Brody won’t say. Flynn said when Brody gets likes this, he normally gives him space, and in a few days Brody will snap out of it.”
Abby didn’t like the situation at all. She’d come to care for Brody—okay, she liked him more than was healthy, she admitted. She wanted to help. “I won’t say a word. Thanks. I’ll just give him space, like I’ve been doing. And hey, if he decides to blow off what we had going, no problem.” She shrugged, doing her level best to convince Maddie she meant it.
She must have done a good job because Maddie blew out a breath of relief. “Oh, good. I was worried you might be falling for him. He’s so charming, great in bed—your words, not mine—then add in he’s funny and he likes you. The real you. That’s a recipe for disaster.”
You got that right. They ate dinner, and Vanessa joined them after coming back from her run. She spent the time bitching about her last date with some dullard named John, a guy who had bored her nearly to death while talking about himself for their entire night out.
“The nerve. He wants to go out again. I swear to you. I think I got in the words Hello and thanks for dinner the entire night. But I can tell you his golf score, his income, that he has three houses, and loves sampling wines.” Vanessa scrunched her nose. “Ugh. Why me?”
“Why did you go out with him in the first place?” Maddie asked as they cleaned up.
“He had nice legs.” Vanessa shrugged. “And I wanted to go out. The only saving grace of the night was that we ate at a nice restaurant and he paid.”
“A free meal, but with a catch.”
“Yeah. He’s like a walking timeshare. Suckers you in and makes you suffer endlessly while trying to sell you something you don’t want. Whatever. At least I haven’t been slacking off on my exercise. I feel great.”
The woman did have a sparkle in her eyes. “Hmm. You look energized, I’ll give you that.” But Vanessa also had a spring in her step and a joy that had been missing lately. “You look good.”
“I always look good.” No ego, just truth.
Abby rolled her eyes. “Vanity be thy name.”
“Vanity. Vanessa. Both start with a van. Close enough,” Maddie added.
“Your petty jealousies soothe my soul,” Vanessa said with her mouth half full.
“God, Vanessa. Close your mouth when you chew.” Abby grimaced.
“What, like this?” She opened her mouth wide, then finished her food and laughed.
Vanessa was still chuckling as she deposited her plate in the sink. She washed her dishes, dried them, and put them away. “I’m just in a good mood because I’m feeling healthy and energized.”
“Oh?” Maddie winked at Abby. “Wouldn’t have anything to do with your new running partner, now would it?”
“Who’s that?” Abby saw the shutter close over Vanessa’s eyes.
“Cameron McCauley seems to be hitting the gym pretty hard lately, according to Flynn.”
“Oh wow. So you’re into a McCauley too, huh?” Abby teased. “Just your type. He’s a nut about numbers too.”
“He’s intelligent, yes. Attractive, athletic. And he’s a friend.” Vanessa crossed her arms over her chest.
Defensive much?
“Just a friend?” Maddie pressed.
Abby wanted to see Vanessa laughing again. “Leave her alone, Maddie. Cam’s a good guy. And you can see why they’d buddy up.” Personally, she thought Vanessa had a crush, but she didn’t want to get in the way of Vanessa connecting with happiness. It was all too rare an occurrence. “They both like to exercise, and they both think they’re way too smart for the rest of us.”
Vanessa relaxed. “Exactly. Now, my minions, I’m off to shower and get a bit of midweek preparation in with work. Unless you’re on fire, don’t knock.” Vanessa strode out of the kitchen with purpose.
&
nbsp; Maddie and Abby turned to each other. “Do you think she likes Cam?”
Abby shrugged. “I don’t know. But she’s been down lately. If she does like him, let’s be supportive, okay?”
Maddie narrowed her eyes. “You’re kidding, right? Do you not remember how many times she’s called me a drama queen? Told me to, and I quote, ‘Suck it up, princess’? Or that she still calls me flighty and says my chances for failure at my new business are growing as fat as my ass?”
“That’s so you’ll exercise more.” Abby tried not to laugh. “You have a tiny butt. You’re good.”
Maddie smacked her playfully. “You’re no fun when I’m trying to dig on Van-zilla. Good one, by the way.”
“I thought so.” She sighed. “Well, I’m going to do a few more pages before I turn in for the night. I have a lot to do if I want to get ready for Thanksgiving. Two weeks is going to go by like that.” She snapped her fingers.
She and Maddie parted to work, but as Abby typed, she couldn’t help wondering about Brody. No matter what she’d said to Maddie, she planned to check up on him. Just as a friend. And what better way to show she cared than to see how he and Mutt were doing?
“Yeah, that will work.” Not too obvious, but enough of an excuse to get a look at him and see for herself that he was okay. She nodded and threw herself back into her book, more than aware of how much she needed to change her new hero so that he stopped resembling Brody.
The next day, she took an early morning break and drove to Green Lake. She parked in front of Brody’s house, hoping he’d be home. She’d checked with Maddie and, without asking directly, had weaseled the fact that the guys had no one scheduled until later that afternoon.
She walked up the sidewalk, but before she could reach the porch, Seth opened the door of his home and stepped out.
“Hey, Seth—” She stopped talking when he put a finger to his lips and frantically motioned her over to his place. Hurrying across the yard to his walk and up the stairs of his porch, she met him. “Are you okay?”
He didn’t answer but hustled her inside his house and closed the door.
“Whoa.” She gaped at the stacks of papers, collectibles, and, well, stuff all over the place. He had clear paths for walking, but criminy, the man had knickknacks everywhere.
“Yeah, yeah. I collect a lot. Come here. We need to talk.”
She followed his shuffle into the living room and sat in one of the two unoccupied chairs. For all that he hoarded, the room looked clean. No dust or cobwebs. Just tons of clutter. She sat and studied him. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s not me.” He scowled. “It’s Brody.” He paused. “It’s not my place to say, but I like the boy. Something happened last week, and he’s been keeping to himself since. Not in a good way. I don’t like it.”
Abby liked Seth. She had from the day she’d met the cantankerous old man. And now, seeing his concern and knowing he cared about Brody, she liked him even more. “I haven’t talked to him since last week,” she admitted. “We were supposed to go bowling Tuesday, and then he canceled. He’s texted a few times but hasn’t responded to my calls since.”
“Yeah, well, if you’d heard what I did, you’d understand.” He exhaled heavily. “I ain’t one for gossip, mind you. But I think he’s hurting. That doesn’t sit right by me. Not at all.”
“I want to help him. I think his situation might have to do with…his family?” she prodded.
His eyes narrowed. “Yeah. Not that bunch he’s always hanging around with. But two who looked a lot like him. A brother and father.” He repeated to her, what sounded like word for word, all he’d heard, and her heart bled for Brody.
“That’s awful.”
“Yep. The brother seemed sincere to apologize, but what do I know? The father though. He was a real piece of shit, excuse my French.”
She nodded, lost in thoughts about what Brody might be going through. She ached for the little boy who had been abused and scared. It didn’t seem to fit with the man she knew at all. And yet some of it did. She couldn’t explain it.
“I bet he’d like some company, especially if a pretty girl were to offer it,” Seth nudged.
“He’s home?”
“Yep. Haven’t heard a peep outta him all morning. Not that I listen,” he rushed to say. “But I normally hear that truck move. Not a thing today.”
“Okay. Thanks, Seth. And I promise not to say anything. I’m worried about him too.” She stood and Seth stood with her.
“Good girl. You let me know if I can help.”
She leaned in and kissed him on his whiskered cheek before he could back away. “Thanks.”
He flushed. “Oh, stop flirting with me, woman. Get yourself to the boy and get him out of that funk. And if he wants to know why you were over here, tell him I had an antique typewriter I thought you might be interested in, you being a writer and all.”
Brody must have told him, because she hadn’t mentioned it. “I will. Thanks again, Seth.”
He nodded, and she saw herself out. She hurried to Brody’s house, hoping he hadn’t noticed her talking to Seth. Composing herself and going with the plan to check on Mutt, she knocked on the door, then rang the bell.
It took a few moments, but she heard Mutt bark. Then footsteps. Good. Brody wouldn’t pretend he wasn’t home. He opened the door, looking fresh, as if he’d just showered. He wore jeans and a sweatshirt, but he seemed as if he’d lost weight, and his eyes had lost that sparkle he normally wore with her.
“Hi, Abby.”
“Hey, Brody.” She smiled. “I hate to bug you, but I hadn’t heard from you in a while.” She glanced at Mutt, who sat and wagged his tail. “I came to check on Mutt.”
“He’s good.” Brody didn’t move from the door.
Uh-oh. She thought fast, remembering the notebook she always carried in her purse with her, and made a new plan. “And I came to talk to you about that web design.” She needed to get inside and feel him out.
“Well, now’s not the best time. I’m kind of busy—”
She shoved past him and entered. “Close the door, would you? It’s kind of cold out there.”
“Come on in, why don’t you?” He shook his head and closed the door behind her.
“Thanks. I could use a cup of coffee if you have any.” She walked into the kitchen and settled at the island, making herself at home. Then she turned and motioned to Mutt. “Come here, Mutt. How are you, boy?”
He barked once, his happy bark, and joined her in a shake. So wiggly, he danced under her hands and licked her face, happy to see her. Unlike his owner.
Brody stood there with his arms crossed, leaning against the counter. He stared with a brooding gaze, and that cautious mien made her want to hug him and tell him everything would be all right. She didn’t feel a sexual pull, but an emotional one, and she knew then that no matter how much she’d been telling herself to keep her distance, Brody had won their contest. She was well and truly hooked. Hell.
Chapter 14
He wasn’t ready to deal with her yet. Brody watched Abby, seeing her innocent gaze and knowing she’d talked to Seth not five minutes ago. He loved the guy, but damn. Seth had probably blabbed about his shitty father and the abuse he hadn’t wanted anyone to know about.
Fuck.
But Abby didn’t look at him with pity. So maybe Seth had kept his big nose out of Brody’s business after all. Flynn had been on his ass at the beginning of the week, urging Brody to tell him what was wrong, but Brody couldn’t explain it to himself, let alone his best friend. Being around his father and brother turned him inside out, made him wonder again why any of the McCauleys had taken a chance on the little piece of shit with dirty hair and hands that took what didn’t belong to him.
He’d never gotten caught, a lucky thing. Because Brody had been a bad, bad boy during his first few years
with the McCauleys. And in high school, he’d done a lot of shit he wasn’t proud of.
But none of that mattered with Abby standing so close. As much as he’d tried to stop thinking about her, about how he didn’t deserve to come close to her, he’d dwell on images of her mouth, of how it curled when she smiled. How bright her eyes grew, or how her cheeks lit with red when excited or embarrassed, and how beautiful she was.
“Hello?” Abby clapped her hands in front of his face. When had she moved closer? “Coffee?” She held up a cup he’d had sitting on the table.
He let out an aggravated sigh and started a pot for her. “I’m really not in the mood to talk about the website.”
“Too bad. Because I have clients other than you and Flynn. So get your skinny ass over here and tell me what you want.” She pulled a notebook and pen out of her bag and waited.
You. I want you. To kiss you, touch you, come inside you, and forget about the shit in my life. God, he hated sounding pathetic. Like a victim. He’d taken his last beating from Jeremy at eleven. Twenty years ago. Would he ever get over the past?
He forced himself to deal with the present, to include the feisty sexpot sitting expectantly at his kitchen island while she petted his dog. Mutt looked like he’d died and gone to heaven as he sat calmly under her touch.
“The website. That’s what you want?” He still didn’t trust her reasons for coming, especially after that visit with Seth. “So, what did Seth want with you?” he decided to ask.
She glanced at the coffeepot, then to her cup, then back to the pot.
“Christ.” He grabbed her cup and filled it, then brought her some cream and a bowl of sugar.
She smiled at him as she fixed it, and damn if he didn’t feel better. “Thanks.”
“Seth?”
“He had an old typewriter he wanted me to see. Apparently someone told him I’m a writer.” She frowned at him.