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The bristle side of the brush, that is.
So, there was bubblegum-pink paint on my forehead and in my hair. I was pretty sure it’d managed to drip down beneath my shirt at some point, so my boobs had gotten a makeover, too.
I hadn’t dared touch Eli’s room. Not that I’d time with The Great Monday Battle of the Paint.
Driving home barefoot had been a joy, too. The boots I always wore to work had become my most comfortable shoes, and I’d never actually driven barefoot in my life.
I never wanted to do it again, either.
I slammed my front door shut behind me and instantly went upstairs to my bathroom. The only thing I wanted was a shower—I needed it, too, since I was supposed to go to my parents’ to see how Dad was getting on with the twins’ beds.
The hot water was amazing as it beat down on me. I scrubbed and scrubbed until I was red all over and there wasn’t so much as a drop of paint on me.
It felt so damn good to be clean.
I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in towels. I secured a towel turban on top of my head and killed the water. With the rush of silence as the water shut off came the distant sound of my phone ringing.
“Shit!” I jumped from the bath rug to the carpeted hallway, only just making it. The last thing I needed right now was to slip and fall on my ass and break a bone.
I darted down the stairs to where I’d dumped my phone on the hallway side table with my keys. It’d stopped ringing, but I grabbed it anyway and checked the call list.
Three missed calls: Brantley.
I frowned.
That was…overkill.
I was still staring at my phone when it buzzed violently, following up with a shrieking ring.
Jesus. I had to turn that volume down.
Brantley’s name was on the screen, and I swallowed down the mild panic at the number of times he’d tried to call me. Had I done something wrong? Trodden paint through his house?
I wasn’t sure, but…
“Hello?” I answered on the fifth ring, only just getting it before it would go over to voicemail.
“Thank God. Kali?” He was rushed—his tone tight, frustrated, helpless.
“Yeah. Is something wrong? I have a bunch of missed calls from you.”
“Yes. No. I need your help—do you know anyone who would be able to get the twins for me?” he said quickly, almost too quickly.
I clutched my towel at my chest. “Whoa, whoa. Slow down. Why do you need someone to get the twins?”
The line crackled as he exhaled heavily. “My meeting got pushed back. The other company was flying in from out of state, and their flight got delayed. We’re almost done, but it’s rush hour and I’ll never get back to town on time to get them.”
Crap.
“Can’t Summer keep them a little longer?”
“No. Something about her grandparents coming to town for her parents’ anniversary dinner or she would.”
Double crap.
“You’re the only other person I know. Can you think of anyone?”
I nibbled the inside of my lip. It stung slightly, and I thought of how I’d have to explain this one to my parents without my mom getting ideas…
“I can get them,” I said before I could change my mind. “They know me, right? I know where the spare key is. I can take them home.”
“Are you sure? Fuck, no, Kali. I can’t ask you to do this.”
“You’re not asking me. I’m offering. You’ll be what, an hour? Two?”
“Two if I’m lucky.” He paused. “How soon can you be there?”
“Uhh…” I pulled my phone away from my ear and checked the time. “At least half an hour. I was in the shower when you called.”
Silence for a moment.
“Brantley?”
“Sorry. Someone yelled at me.”
Hmm. I smelled bullshit.
“Half an hour should be fine. Jesus, Kali. Thank you so much.”
“It’s not a problem,” I replied. “I’ll head over there as soon as I can, okay?”
“Thank you. Hey—there’s ground beef in the fridge. I was going to make them spaghetti…” He trailed off.
“Stop panicking. Aside from the fact Eli barely speaks to me, I’m sure I can manage for two hours.”
He laughed, albeit a bit nervously. “Keep that confidence. You’ll need it.”
“Reassuring,” I said dryly, heading upstairs. “Call Summer. Don’t panic. I got this.”
“Brave woman.” Then, he clicked off the line.
I stopped at the top of the stairs.
What the hell was I doing?
***
Brantley: Summer has spare car seats and she’ll fit them. I’m trying to get out of here.
Me: I told you. I got this.
And I did. Summer was fitting those seats in the back of my truck as I texted him back. I tried not to put his panic into a box that said he didn’t trust me, because he had to know they’d be safe with me.
Whether I’d be safe with them was another matter entirely.
