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My brother blinked at me and then let out a resounding sigh. “You have my word.” He smoothed his hands up and down his thighs a couple of times. “The only reason I’ve let you get out of being at Paths of Purpose is because I think you’re actually helping her. You push Mom without overdoing it, and generally speaking, you don’t treat her like she’s sick. You’re doing a hell of a lot better job of that than Dad and me and Mulaney.”
“I’m just trying to be there for her.”
“You’re knocking it out of the park,” he praised, and it didn’t appear that it pained him to say it.
I’d always wanted to impress my big brother. At nearly forty years old, that hadn’t changed, and I swelled with pride. “What do I need to do to make sure everything is ready for her to go home?”
“We’ve got it handled, but if I think of anything, I’ll let you know.”
We sat there quietly, lost in our own tumultuous thoughts. There was so much shit around us that we were neck-deep in it, and most of it was my doing.
“Easton? What’s it like being Dad’s best friend?” I wanted to kick my own ass as soon as the words left my mouth. That was something a five-year-old would ask, not a man who could stand on his own two legs. But there was the truth—even though my brother understandably hated how I’d destroyed Carter Energy, he was giving me something I hadn’t had for years. Time. He was giving me time.
“It’s not too late to find out.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Sonya
“Plumber’s here.”
Drew strode into my room without so much as knock, wielding a plunger. Sam leapt off the bed and made a disgruntled noise. He took the treat Drew tossed his way without hesitation, though.
“Mr. Carter, you can’t just barge into a resident’s room.” Baker’s harsh tone was much different than the woman I’d spoken to.
“Do you mind if I unclog your toilet?” Drew asked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
“My toilet—” He shushed me with a look and why I agreed to go along with whatever he was up to was a mystery I didn’t think I’d solve in this lifetime. “No, I don’t mind.”
“Are you sure?” Lines of concern creased Baker’s forehead. “Mrs. Quinn sent me to escort him so you wouldn’t be uncomfortable. You can hang out in my room if you like while you wait.”
“What about your project? Aren’t you on a deadline?”
She glanced in the direction of her room. “Yeah, but it’s okay. Mrs. Quinn had a meeting and couldn’t do this herself . . .”
“Go work on your project.” I motioned toward the door.
“I can’t—”
“It’s fine. I won’t tell.”
Baker looked uncertain before she turned a hard gaze to Drew. “I’m next door. Come get me when you’re finished so I can escort you back.”
He flashed her a smile. “You got it.”
She backed out of the room without shutting the door. With a flick of his finger, Drew motioned me into the bathroom, his brow furrowing when he caught sight of me in my flannel pajamas. My hair was piled on top of my head like I hadn’t showered that day. I hadn’t, but he didn’t look disgusted; his eyes roamed my makeup-free face, discreetly checking out how the bruise was healing.
“Is this what you have to resort to?” I hissed in the small space. Yesterday, I’d ignored his attempts to see me. Guess he’d had enough.
He tossed the plunger on the floor. Sam jumped when it clattered and huddled next to my leg. Drew pulled me into him as if he couldn’t physically stand for us to be apart.
“Whatever it takes, sugar.” He wound a hand in my ponytail, tugged my head back, and smashed his lips against mine, a groan of relief escaping him. I melted almost immediately, hating how easy I made it for him.
“Aren’t you supposed to be fixing a toilet?”
“Told Mrs. Quinn yours was backed up. Again. And this time you couldn’t handle it on your own.”
My eyes bulged, and I shoved at his chest. “You did what?”
