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He frowns. “I guess. But I don’t like the idea of you here alone, feeling scared.”
Since Cash runs a large company and has to go into work, and I can’t magically make my fears go away, this conversation is clearly not going to go anywhere. So I change the topic instead.
“Tell me about work.” I shift on the couch so I’m facing him. “Did you sign any future best sellers today?”
Cash hesitates, still looking unhappy. Then he leans back against the cushions and sighs. “No new best sellers. My day was mostly meetings with different departments—advertising, editing, graphic design—lots of reports and figures, but nothing terribly thrilling.”
“No memoir about a concert pianist who becomes an astronaut, and plans to play a sonata on the moon?”
He chuckles. “Unfortunately not. And no books of poetry written by a hamster walking over a keyboard, either.”
I make anahaface at him. “I think I just figured out what to work on during my next summer vacation.”
“I think that’s a great idea.”
I grin at him. It’s amazing how much better I feel already.
After a pause, Cash says, “Something strange happened today, though.”
He sounds pensive and a little worried. I lean forward in concern, searching his face. “What happened?”
“Brett called.”
That, I wasn’t expecting. “Yourbrothercalled?”
“I know.” Cash rubs his forehead, right above his eyebrows. “I was surprised too.”
My stomach sinks. I’ve only met Brett a handful of times—he’s older than Cash by four years, and he refused to move to Sleepy Hollow with Cash after their parents died tragically in a plane crash. So he only made a few visits back, and never to actually stay, only to beg for more money.
That’s the only reason he’s ever called Cash, too. Brett burned through his trust fund by the time he was twenty-two, spending the money on exotic trips and cars and lots of drugs. Then he moved on to gambling and selling drugs to keep up his habit, which quickly resulted in being sent to prison on an array of drug charges.
“What did he want?”
Shaking his head, Cash says, “Unbelievably, he said he wants to meet. That he’s gotten clean, stayed out of trouble, and he’s sorry.”
“That’s good…” Even if it sounds too good to be true.
“I know, Ari.” Cash knows what I’m thinking. “And he wants to come work at Chatham. He said he regretted not taking the opportunity years ago. I want to believe him, but…”
I reach over and take his hand. “Maybe it’s the truth. Maybe heissorry, and he wants another chance.”
His fingers wrap around mine gently. “I really hope so. But I can’t help feeling suspicious about his motivation. That he’s really just going to ask for money again.”
Cash falls silent, his gaze going distant, while his thumb idly strokes across the top of my hand. The lines of his face are strained, and it makes me mad at Brett all over again. Mad at him for ditching Cash to begin with, and for all the times he called Cash only wanting money, and never trying to be a true brother to him.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” I ask, breaking the silence. “And order pizza? We can watch one of those car movies you like so much.”
His lips twitch, and he focuses back on me. “You mean theFast and the Furiousmovies?”
“There are cars in them, aren’t there?” I say innocently. I know what they’re called, but I can tease Cash just as well as he teases me.
“It’s more than just cars,” Cash says, shaking his head at me. “There’s character development, a well-developed plot, action, and suspense—”
“If you say so.” I nudge his knee with mine. “So, how about ordering those pizzas?”
“Okay. But first I’m going to shower, then check your injuries, and then we’ll watch somequalitymovies.”
“Okay, Cash.” If it takes his mind off his brother and their meeting tomorrow, I’ll sit through a movie about people driving off bridges and miraculously not exploding into a ball of flames. “Sounds good.”
