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“I know how people like this work, and so do you. Your dad’s a target, Skylar.”
“And now so are you!” I exploded, rubbing my fingers over the bridge of my nose. This entire situation was giving me a massive headache. “You think I don’t know Messina’s a cockroach? That piece of shit and people like him have been making my family miserable my entire life. But until I can get my dad out of this goddamn city, paying him off is the best I can do!”
We sat in silence for a few moments. Brandon sighed.
“Where are you going to get that kind of money?” he asked quietly.
I looked down where my hands were now clasped in my lap. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I still have some left in the fund my mother gave me for school. I was hoping to gift it to my dad for his retirement, but obviously it’s needed now. I’ll pay you back the other half once I start working this fall.”
I didn’t mention the fact that we’d still have to take a loan against the value of the house. It wouldn’t be as much as I thought, but it would have to be done.
Brandon rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I’ll pay it,” he said. “And we’ll get your dad the hell out of New York and into rehab before he ends up back in the hospital.”
“He won’t go,” I said. “Believe me, I’ve tried. I begged him to come to Boston with me, but, Brandon, he won’t budge. He’s got four years left before he makes pension. His band is here, and my grandmother would rather kill herself than leave her house. She’s lived here her whole life—I bet I could count on one hand the number of times she’s even left the Five Boroughs.”
Brandon opened his mouth to argue, but I held up a hand.
“Besides, it’s like you said, he’s a target,” I continued. “You know how these people work. You did a decent job of convincing him that you probably got that money the same way he gets his, but if Victor Messina ever gets even a hint of who you really are…you better believe he’ll ask for a lot more than just my dad’s debt.”
A simple Google search would do him in; I thought again how lucky he was that Messina hadn’t asked for Brandon’s name, or even seen his car. The idea of those thugs showing up at Brandon’s posh townhouse, threatening him or doing worse…suddenly I saw Brandon in the hospital bed. The thought made my blood run cold.
The car pulled to a stop. Brandon just stared out the window at the shabby brown house where Bubbe had lived since she’d gotten married. She’d had my father in that house. She’d raised me in that house. I knew my family; they’d never leave.
“All right,” he said at last with a lot more conviction than I knew he felt. He took my hand and ran his thumb over my knuckles. “But I’ll still give you the money for it.”
The hell you will, I thought. “It’s really fine—”
“No, Skylar.” Brandon’s tone was quiet, but final.
He ignored my glare, opened the door, and slipped out before I could respond. He walked a few steps toward the rusty metal gate and waited for me there. After a few more moments, I followed him. Brandon could have his way for now, but there was no way in hell I was going to let him pay off this debt.
Brandon waited while I fished my keys out of my purse. Before unlocking the door, I looked up at him.
“You can go if you want,” I said quietly.
His face screwed up with confusion. “What? Why would I do that?”
“I know you’re upset with me.” I gave a weak shrug. I wasn’t going to change my mind, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t see his side of things.
Brandon nodded his head from side to side as if weighing my statement. “You must be crazy if you think I would leave you alone after today. Afterthat.”
“I am not crazy!” I wanted to shout, but had to settle for an emphatic whisper, knowing Bubbe was likely lurking around the windows. “And nothing is going to happen. You heard him; I have until the end of the month. I’ll be fine.”
“Okay, fine. But, baby? Red? I’m not.”
The tenderness of his words cut the argument right out of my mouth, and I stood there, my lips hanging slightly open as I processed his words.
“What do you mean?”
“Skylar, I lo—” Brandon cut himself off with a quick chew of his bottom lip. “Red, if something happened to you, I wouldn’t forgive myself. And if I’m stuck at that hotel or on the way back to Boston wondering if you’re okay, well, I’ll be the crazy one then, all right?”
“I’m not cra—”
My mouth was swiftly covered by his, silencing any reply with the gentle force of his lips and tongue. He cupped my face, and I melted, opening myself up to his touch. After the stress of the last twenty-four hours, I was ready for this—just to be held, to be cared for. When it ended, I lay my head against the solid strength of his body.
“Please,” I said into his chest. The image of Brandon hurt appeared in my mind again, and I suddenly felt broken, hollow.
“What is it, Red?” he asked, stroking my hair from my face.
