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"What am I supposed to say? He probably hates me." The words barely make it out of my mouth.
"He doesn’t hate you."
My head jerks in George’s direction, who is depositing several medium-size moving boxes near the door to the foyer. His statement is spoken matter-of-factly.
"You talked to him." I hiccup yet manage to sound accusatory.
"I have."
"How?" My rasped question is followed by a growl from my brother. "Why is this the first time I’m hearing of this?"
I brought the burner with me.
"He messaged me last night. He has my number memorized, as you know." The unspoken duh is like a slap to the face. George continues without waiting for one of us to answer. "He wanted to know where you are and if I’m with you. I confirmed that I am but didn’t tell him the location. He told Heather and Tristen that you are with family—"
"WHAT THE FUCK?" Nate's outburst makes me jump, and he drops his hands from my arms.
He what?
I press my hand against my chest, feeling my heartbeat under my palm.
"Rhys had to give Heather and Tristen something. What did you two expect?" George’s irritation is apparent. All that’s missing is the eye roll.
My chin starts wobbling again, and his eyes soften. "He is not angry with you, Miss Lilly. He is...confused."
"Confused?" Nate scoffs.
George flexes his jaw. "Get everything set up so Miss Lilly can talk to her boyfriend. She doesn’t have to give him a location, but she does owe him an explanation face to face."
As much as his words sting, he is right.
"Whatever." My brother grabs one of the bags and marches toward the back staircase. "Bring the rest to the office," he barks at no one in particular, and I scramble for the second bag, even though I'm pretty sure he didn’t mean me.
By the timeI reach the top of the landing, Nate is nowhere in sight. He said office, so I assume he meant Brooks's home office. During yesterday's tour, he pointed out the room but only stared at the door. The look on his face as we stood in the hallway for several minutes made it clear that he still has a lot of unresolved issues with our father.
My father's office was the only one I didn't get to see, so my steps are hesitant. Slowly reaching out for the handle, George's voice comes from behind. "He's not in there."
I whip around, scowling at him.
I’m going to attach a bell to this man.
"This room hasn't been opened in a decade," George explains in a gentler tone than he used downstairs. "Besides the cleaning personnel, that is."
"Oh."
"He’s in here." Turning around, he makes his way three doors down.
Following him at a slower pace, I step over the threshold and come to an abrupt halt. I try to take everything in, but my brain has a hard time catching up. This was one of the guest rooms yesterday, complete with a four-poster bed, dresser, armchair, and stand-up mirror. The low-sitting, cognac armchair is still there, and so is the tall, rustic-looking mirror, but the bed...is gone.
"What happened in here?" I mumble as I make my way farther into the...new office?
Nate straightens from the desk he is leaning over while attaching cables to various monitors. "You needed a place to work." His casualness makes my brows pinch together.
"Where is the bed? And the dresser?" I spin in a circle.
"In the basement," George inserts with a slight grudge. "Your brother decided to change his career to interior designer while you were sleeping."
"Oh, shut up, old man. You were just as excited to pick out the office chair as I was." Nate is now under the table, messing with more cables.
I smirk as their banter distracts me from what we're about to do. Who I'm about to talk to.
"What can I help with?" I carry over the bag.
"I'll show you how to set up a secure network so you know for the future. It won't be anything like mine but enough to get you started and call h—uh...Rhys."
It sounded like he was about to say home, but I let that go. Instead, I squat down and let my brother give me networking lessons.
