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I licked my suddenly dry lips, then shook my head and finished hooking on an earring. "Not yet," was all I could manage as I turned away to hide my intense blush. Instead I focused on taming my bedhead into a bun. The man really did things to me I couldn't control.
Brandon chuckled, but I could hear him putting on the clothes he'd draped over the end of the bed post the night before. Then he was behind me, wrapping my shoulders with his strong arms as he kissed my cheek.
"I miss you," he murmured, echoing the sweet admission he'd repeated throughout the night. "What are you thinking?"
He watched me through the mirror, his eyes looking impossibly blue in the early morning light. We stared at each other, green eyes meeting blue, daring the other to speak first. The issues between us bloomed. Guilt dropped in my stomach like a log.
Green eyes or blue?
I broke first and pressed a kiss to the forearms folded around me.
"The call was from my grandmother," I said. "She checks in every few days. We're worried about my dad."
Brandon's brow furrowed with concern, and he released my shoulders so he could back up and sit on the edge of my bed to listen. I sat down on my desk chair and turned to face him.
"What's going on?" he asked quietly.
I bit my lip. "I'm not sure we should get into it." Things between us were so fresh and tenuous. I didn't want to ruin it.
Brandon pressed his lips together and sighed. "Skylar, this is why we split up in the first place. Because you wouldn't let me help you."
I frowned. "No, we split up because you wouldn't respect my limits. I asked you not to get involved, and you did, behind my back. My entire family is paying for it now. Every time I see a call from Bubbe or my dad, I'm afraid that it's going to be another notice that Dad's in the hospital again, or something even worse. You put those extra-big targets on our backs, Brandon."
"Skylar, I'm pretty sure your dad got into gambling without my help," Brandon replied quietly, although he had the decency to look contrite right after the words left his mouth.
I crossed my arms and glared. "I'm aware that my dad has a problem, thanks. You forget that I've been here before. And see, when my dad was just a poor sanitation worker with a kid in college, these assholes let us alone once he paid his debts. They had bigger fish to fry. But now they found the biggest fish, which means they're not going to let up. And my family is just a bunch of sitting ducks, waiting there to be picked off."
My hands shook at the thought, and I couldn't help my voice cracking at the end.
Brandon opened his mouth as if to argue back, then closed it firmly. "You're right," he said finally, surprising me completely. "I'm sorry."
"You are?"
This wasn't usually how these discussions went for us. Usually, they ended with us acting like stubborn mules, unable to compromise and spouting off at each other. I'd actually smacked Brandon more than once. I know, not my finest moments.
"Yeah," Brandon conceded. He pushed a hand through his hair, gripping a moment at the crown of his head. "But Skylar, believe me when I say this: I would never let anything happen to your family. The Messinas aren't the ones with the real power here. They might want my money for what, some fancy cars? To pay off some dirty cops? I guarantee they have no idea what that money can really do."
My skin prickled at his words. "What is that supposed to mean?"
Brandon suddenly found a nonexistent piece of lint on his jeans extremely interesting.
"Brandon!" I protested. "This is exactly what I'm talking about! I want this to work, but you can't hide things from me. We have to be honest with each other no matter what. And I have to have the final say about what happens with my family."
He sighed. "Fine. To start, you should know that I removed the trust in Messina's name from the divorce agreement. Miranda started asking questions anyway, so it was better that I paid your family's debt in bulk instead. So yes, I gave Messina a larger payment to stay away from your family, but that's it. And I did take pains to route it in a way that he might just think it came from your dad instead of me."
I rubbed my forehead. Suddenly I had a massive headache.
"Brandon. I know you don't really think that worked. Victor Messina probably started sniffing you out the second you produced a paper bag full of cash like a damn magician."
"Probably," Brandon admitted. "But it was a start." He looked up with big eyes. "You should probably know that after you told me about your dad's, um, new friend, I arranged for a security detail to watch the house in Brooklyn. And, ah, you too."
I gaped around my room as if Inspector Gadget was about to pop out of my closet. "What?!"
He had the decency to look ashamed, but I recognized the set of his jaw when Brandon wasn't going to change his mind.
"I did it during dinner on Friday," he said. "Listen, you just finished telling me how scared you are that someone is going to hurt your family again. I'm just doing what needs to be done to make sure it doesn't happen."
"I don't need a security detail. Talk about a breach of privacy, Brandon!"
