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“Where are you?”
My ego is bruised more than anything else.
“I’ll be right there.” He doesn’t even look at me before racing to the door.
“Shit! Noah, I’m sorry! I have to go! You can go home for the day.” He doesn’t halt his pace once as he throws the excuse over his shoulder.
Something in his movements, in his voice, within the emotion on his face tells me not to ask questions. Obviously, something happened, and she needs him right now. I can understand that, but deep down inside, there is a small piece inside of me that feels left very much on the outside when it comes to him and his best friend.
Brazen told me to go home for the day, but I find myself sitting at his desk, unable to leave. I roll a pen across the cluttered surface, thinking. The fear in his voice during that phone call rings through my head.
Sunday and I aren’t best friends. She’s not going to call me to go have a girls’ night or start dusting off the skeletons in her closet for me, and I’m okay with that. She’s sarcastic, and I like the playfulness she sparks in Brazen. When those two are together, it’s clear that they have a genuine friendship.
I’m worried though.
Minutes tick by into hours without any sign of Brazen returning.
I can’t sit back any longer. With a wild hair up my ass, I call an Uber and head for Brazen’s. When I arrive, his car is parked in the driveway. They’re here. On shaky legs, I walk up to his door. I don’t know why, but I already feel like coming here was a mistake. Yet I still find myself at his front door where I can hear them yelling as I knock.
Sunday and Brazen.
I can’t make out the words, but it’s clear that the voices belong to my bosses.
The door flies open, and Brazen stands before me, looking like I’ve never seen him before. With one hand behind his back, his nostrils flare, and toxic anger pours from him. I take a step back, filled with anxious jitters. The second he realizes it’s me and not whomever he was expecting, he softens but only a little. There is movement behind him, and when Brazen turns to see what captured my attention, I see what he’s hiding behind his back. Shiny metal catches my eye, and it doesn’t take me but a glimpse to know that he answered the door, holding a gun behind his back.
I take another step back, pausing my retreat when I see Sunday.
He couldn’t have done that to her. There is no way.
She flees from my view, but I’m positive of what I saw.
Sunday—bruised, battered, and bloody.
“Now really isn’t a good time, Noah,” he tells me.
“I can see that.” I click my tongue.
“You can’t be here,” he insists.
“Give me one good explanation for what I just saw, and I’ll walk away without another mention of this. You damn sure need to give me something because I can’t just walk away and pretend I didn’t see what I did.”
“Some secrets aren’t ours to tell. This is one of those.”
“You’d better tell me something because, right now, I’m not even sure I should be leaving Sunday alone with you.”
He flinches, but I don’t care. If he did that to her, which isn’t something I really believe he’s capable of, there is no way I’m leaving her here with him. No. Way.
“You think I did that to her? That’s the conclusion you’ve jumped to?” Brazen projects sadness, disappointment, and hurt my way.
“Brazen, what am I supposed to think?”
“I don’t know. Not that though. I have to go, Noah. We’ll talk about this tomorrow.”
As the door is closing, my hand juts out and makes contact, stopping it.
“I can’t just walk away without knowing she’s safe here,” I tell him flatly. “You can’t just dismiss me.” I push open his door that he’s no longer holding and call into the house, “Sunday, are you okay?”
She rounds a corner and stops, not taking another step. “Brazen didn’t do this. He would never do anything like this. I’m here because I’m safe here, and he’s home because I called him. Please go, Noah.” Her voice cracks and is coated with anguish.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Please.”
Sunday moves back out of sight, and Brazen sighs, looking defeated. I don’t know what to say. My lips move, but no words come out, and then the door is closing. This time, it closes in my face, and I hear the lock click before I can say I’m sorry.
Hell.
I know he didn’t do that, but someone did.
