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Does he fear, like the chance for revenge on his father, that his dream of us won’t come true? Is he worried that if we become real, he’ll have to surrender to his dream and, unlike the little boy in him holding that bat and waiting, is terrified of losing again?
Oh, no. I’m thinking like my mother now. Not that there’s anything wrong with it. Mom has saved many souls, and she’s good at what she does. I’m not sure I can save Brett’s soul. Not when I’m conjuring up reasons for him. I need to ask him. I need to find out what he feels about us.
“Well,” Erica says as we get back to the front of the building. “Everything looks great.”
“Thanks.” I smile.
“Mr. Daxon.” Erica turns to Cole. “You have done an excellent job on the building, and GrandMark is pleased that you were able to meet the projected date.”
“We’re glad you’re satisfied with the finished product.” Cole looks at me. “I’m going to head out if you’re all set here.”
“Yes. Thanks, Cole.”
He nods and exits out the door. Is this the last time I’ll see him? The last time I’ll ever see any Daxon brother. What happens from here?
“I’ll meet you outside in a few minutes,” Erica says to the two representatives.
They nod, bid me farewell, and leave out the door as well.
“Well…” Erica clasps her hands together. “I need an answer, Cassie.” Her dark, manicured eyebrow arches. “What’s it going to be? Are you staying on here?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
I walk up to Brett’s office. Cole comes out the door.
“Where is he?”
Cole smiles, hitching his thumb as he passes by me toward his truck.
“Thanks!” I grab the office door and whip it open.
Brett’s hunched over at his desk going through a pile of papers.
He looks up at me. There’s a storm brewing in his eyes.
Ready to battle that storm, I stop at his desk and plant my hands on my hips. “We missed you today at the walk-through.”
“I was busy.” He holds up one of the papers, claiming to keep him busy. “Cole said everything went fine.”
“It did.” I walk over to the counter, pull out the coffee pot, and fill it with water. I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.
I turn around.
Still holding the paper in his hand, he lifts his eyebrow.
“Let’s go.” I gesture to the door.
He glances at the coffee pot full of water in my hand. “Where?”
“Get up, and I’ll tell you.”
He drops the paper, sits back in the chair, and places his hands behind his neck. “Don’t you want to finish making the coffee first?”
“This isn’t for coffee.”
A crooked grin kicks up one side of his cheek. “What’s it for then?”
“The plants.” I smirk. “It’s time to go water the garden. So let’s go.”
