Oh God. He will.
And the next day. And the next day. And the next day.
“I’m going to order you lunch again, so be ready for it around noon.” He reaches into the car, long fingers coming to adjust the belt strapped across my chest. “If you need anything, come find me. I’ll make sure you have everything you want.”
I swallow hard, because no one has ever said that to me. Not my parents. Not Matt.
And not the Tobias I knew in college. He never would’ve made me that sort of a promise. He also never would have cooked me a steak dinner. Or painted a dog’s toenails. Or thought to order me lunch. Or given me a car to drive.
It seems things are worse than I thought.
I’m not trying to stay away from the Tobias I knew before. I’m trying to stay away from the new, improved version.
And that guy is going to be a problem.
9
Tobias
It’s been a week and a half since Brooke came to my house and I managed to get her to stay for dinner.
A week and a half of her driving my car. A week and a half of her working for my company. A week and a half of her eating lunch I provide. A week and a half of her playing with the puppy I gave her.
It’s also been a week and a half since I’ve seen her face, and I’m about to lose my mind over it. The hardest days were the weekend. When I couldn’t order her lunch or make sure Maren checked her office-supply status. As long as I could do those two things—feel like I’ve been able to take care of her on at least some level—I’ve managed decently well.
Somewhat.
But this morning when Maren comes in and I remind her to check on Brooke’s office supplies, she looks at me funny. Then she casually says, “Brooke isn’t here today. She called in sick.”
So now, I’m storming through the building to see formyself. Make sure Maren’s right before I start acting an ass for no reason.
When I come face-to-face with her dark office, my blood boils and my rage is directed straight at my oldest brother.
Is it an overreaction?
Yes. I can admit that.
But Titus should have let me know. The same way he should’ve let me know that he hired my ex-girlfriend to work for him in the first place.
Stalking back to my wing of the building, I stomp into my office and start collecting my shit. I’ve purposely avoided obtaining Brooke’s cell number, and now I regret it. Especially since I know my parents are out of town and she’s alone with no one making sure she’s okay.
Once I have everything packed up to go, I turn to my administrative assistant and bark out, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
He looks at me like I’ve got five heads, because that particular collection of words has never left my mouth before. I’m always here. Rain or shine. Snow or sleet. Sick or not. I don’t miss work. Not just because we have more to do than we can handle, but also because it’s what’s kept me sane. Given me purpose. Occupied my mind to keep me from thinking about the same shit I did at night when I was home alone.
“Are you okay?” He sucks in a breath, hand coming to his chest. “Oh my God, are you dying?”
“No, but someone might.”
I’m not going to kill my brother. I’m just gonna think about it.
And his kids are probably getting miniature cows now.
I’m in my truck and backing out when my brain finally starts to run through what’s happening, and that I’mprobably not handling it the best. I can’t just barge in and demand Brooke allow me to take care of her.
I don’t have what I need to do that at my house.
Punching the screen in my dash, I dial a number Idohave. I know making this move is going to send the family group chat into a tizzy, but I don’t give a shit. All I care about is that Brooke isn’t lying in an empty house suffering alone.
