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“Surprisingly, yes. I met up with some people and hung out. Had fun, got laid.”
Brock slaps my back and grins at me. “Finally, my man. You were in need, for sure.”
“Hey!” I toss a napkin at him. “Shit happens.”
“Oh, I know. But good for you, bro. Any details to spill?”
He ain't getting shit out of me. “Nope. But I'll tell you one thing. It was … good. I mean, really good.”
Brock and I pound fists like two high school guys scoring cheerleaders. Pathetic but classic.
“Those titties?” Brock winks, referring to an inside joke of ours. What guy can resist a creamy set of full tits?
Bouncing in your face while she rides your cock …
Stop it. Push the thoughts away.
Fuck, what is it with this girl? Why is she stuck in my head?
Um, hello, maybe because you got to know her mind and personality and connected with her on a different level?
Like ...
No … don't say it.
Don't think about her. Or her name.
My shoulders hunch, and a lump forms in my throat. Fuck, women mess up my head.
“Cole? You okay, man?” Brock pats me on the shoulder. He always was the sensitive one who can read me well. “I wasn't trying to offend—”
With a pat back on Brock's shoulder, I interrupt his thought. “No, I'm fine. Just got lost in my head for a minute.” I crack a smile. “But yeah, those titties, though, you know.”
Brock half-smiles. He worries about me since that time he found me in a not so good place. But thank God he did because things could've ended up a lot different for me.
“Seeing her again?”
The question makes me pause for a moment. You know the answer, so why even question it? If she said she'd be here right this very minute, you'd be there waiting. And that's a problem. A big one.
“You know me, bro. One and done.”
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I just thought—” Brock cuts himself off with a wave of his hand. “Anyway, back to business?”
Brock knows when to stop. He knows my secrets, and he knows my reasons. He's one of three who knows everything about me. And that's how it'll stay.
I nod. “Yep. As they say, another day, another dollar.”
With that, I head back upstairs, my hangover still fucking kicking my ass.
* * *
“Dragging ass today, son, are ya?”
I hear his voice before I see him, and even then, Rocky comes into view first, his big paws making strides that'll beat Gramps any day.
These numbers are killing me, and I'd love to hurl my accounting books across the room.
You got that meeting you wanted with the bank. Maybe things will turn around.
