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I thrust the note at him. “You better fix this.”
He takes it, reads it, and his hand falls to his side. “I made her feel inferior? Jesus Christ, I never thought of her as less.”
“Then you better make sure she knows that.”
Nine
Caroline
I’mcurleduponmy couch, my knees pulled to my chest, and I’m desperately hoping Roarke and Bennett will stop banging on my door. They can’t see in because my blinds are closed, and even if they knew what my car looked like, they can’t see it in the parking lot because it’s in the police impound.
Can my life get any worse? I knew it was too good to be true to think these hot as fuck doctors could be interested in me. They must have just figured out the curvy waitress was desperate for attention. From them…they got that part right.
I got the rest wrong. I’d fooled myself to believe we had something bigger. I can never live up to their expectations and reputations.
Thank goodness they were upstairs when I saw an old friend heading to Bennett’s glass front door. I liked being seen in Bennett’s house, even though we hadn’t gone public with our relationship. But my smile quickly faded when the old friend formally confirmed my name, handed me the folded document, and told me I’d been served.
The good and the bad of a small town…My moment of glory that an old classmate saw me in Bennett Grey’s extravagant home, crumbled into humility that my crappy roots somehow managed to show through that I was being served. I turned it around and begged him to give me a ride back to my apartment, for five dollars. It’s all the cash I had, but it worked.
They bang on my door again, calling my name. They’re so freaking persistent. I holler, “Go away.”
Pulling the subpoena out of my purse, I read over it again. All the stupid formal lawyer language makes it nearly impossible for me to understand.
The things that I think I understand…I’m being charged for the damages from the night my friend totaled my car. I might be in a lot of trouble. I definitely can’t hold up the worthy reputation my boyfriends expect. I’m going to have to find a lawyer who can help me prove that it was my car, but not me in it.
My thoughts that I deserved to be treated nicely and that I could keep my heart protected were two more bad decisions. My fun has come to an end.
They continue knocking on my door, calling my name, and begging me to open up. Roarke’s insisting I hear him out. If they’re not careful, they’ll tarnish their own reputations.
“We’re not leaving, Caroline,” Roarke says.
My neighbor bangs on our adjoining wall. Great. If they piss him off, he can call the landlord.
No longer capable of discerning good from bad decisions, I open the door. My parents always said my fiery red hair was proof of the devil inside of me, and with Roarke and Bennett standing on my porch staring at me, you’d think I’d sprouted horns.
Bennett nudges Roarke, who steps forward with his arms outstretched. I raise my hands to stop him. It’s the only way to handle this. He halts, his brow furrowing, but nods acknowledgment and steps back.
Sinking into his embrace would be far more comfortable, but the longer I stay with them, the harder it will be to rip my heart out of their strong arms. I’m grateful that I got what I signed up for, and then some—I wanted to have some fun, to get pampered with how the other half lives, then get out before they realized who I was.
As always, I threw a bad decision in the mix.
“Caroline, Baby, I’m sorry for being so callous and making you feel like you’re not enough.” He reaches for me while he’s talking but I move away. He balls his fists and shakes his head as he continues. “You’re more than enough. I’ve never been happier—”
Bennett cuts in, “I’m with Roarke on that one. You complete me in ways I didn’t know I needed.”
My chest tightens. “Stop. You don’t understand.”
“I understand that all of my talk about reputations and my ‘people like us’ wording painted me as an ass. But it’s not about whether you grew up in a million-dollar home in Eggplant Canyon or a trailer park in Peach Bottom Valley, it’s about who you are on the inside.”
Accepting their declarations could be life-changing. I force my eyes to my couch where the subpoena sits then I steel my spine and put on a façade of confidence.
“And who do you think that is?”
The silence is too big.
When they finally scrounge up answers, they’re picking low-hanging fruit like waitress, beautiful young woman, incredible lover, risk taker…
“That’s the one we should focus on. You don’t know much about me.” I motion for them to stay in place while I grab the subpoena. I hold it up, facing them so they have a chance to read the top.
