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“Change it back!”
“No.” His eyes halo around my head. “Hey, you grew out your hair. It looks nice—”
“Box…” I growl.
He clears his throat and adjusts his posture, standing up a little taller. He only has about an inch or two on me in height but he’s trying very hard to stretch that out as much as possible.
“I need your help,” he says.
“I don’t care.”
He’s tired. I can tell that by the gray circles nestled beneath his glasses. He hasn’t combed his hair in a while either. His jacket is wrinkled. His fingers twitch subtly at his sides — meaning he’s had way too much coffee today or he’s scared shitless. Maybe both.
I shake off the analysis. “Why would you think I’d care?” I ask.
“Caleb…” He pauses. “I just need a bit of your expertise—”
“No.”
“—and maybe a place to crash.”
“Hell no.”
“Please, Cal.”
He’s desperate. Good.
“No means no, Box,” I say, turning back around. “I don’t have time for this.”
I step back into the loft and slam the door behind me, leaving his sorry ass outside.
“Caleb…”
I keep walking across the room toward the router. Hopefully, I can reset it to the factory settings and change the password to something he can’t easy crack into again.
“Caleb.” His voice sounds muffled but close as if he’s pressing his face against the door. “If you help me, I’ll… I’ll do it.”
“Do what?”
It takes him a few moments to respond. “I’ll sign the papers.”
My breath catches in my throat. I spin back to the door and fling it open. He stands in the doorway, staring back at me with sadness behind his eyes.
“You’ll what?” I ask.
“I’ll sign the papers.”
Holy shit.
Whatever is going on with him must really be serious if he’s making this kind of bargain. “You can’t just throw that out there unless you mean it, Box.”
“I mean it,” he says, his voice low. “If you help me, I’ll give you the divorce.”
I study him a little closer. There’s pain in his eyes. The kind I’ve never seen in him before.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Does that mean you’ll help?”
