Page 4 of The Hang Up
“Brock stayed with you?”
“I collapsed—” The pain. Unbearable. And the fear…knowing I was going to die. And then Brock next to me. Talking to me. Holding my hand. Calling 9-1-1 as tears streamed down his face. I’d clung to him, begged him not to leave.
“He took care of you.”
I cleared my throat. “Brock is a good person.”
“He was always there when I stopped by to check on you. I never saw Sean.”
The glass was cold against my fingers, keeping me present. “He visited. But he was still—” I shook my head. “It doesn’t matter. None of this matters, Mitch.”
“It does if you’re intent on this redemption tour.”
“Can we focus on now?”
“As in, now you like this guy?”
“No,” I said, shaking my head. “He’s a kid—”
“He really isn’t.”
I glared at him. He was baiting me, but I couldn’t stop. “It’s too weird. The first time I met Brock was at Sean’s graduation—”
“From college?” he asked, feigning innocence.
“Kindergarten—stop grinning at me—they were five. Brock hid behind Sean. He was always shy and nervous around us—” No. Not us. Around me. Just me.
“You’re right.”
That startled me out of my memories. “I am?”
“Absolutely. You’ve always seen Brock as a kid. And even if you did like him and were into guys, he’s your son’s roommate and best friend. No way you can reconnect with your son if you’re alsoreconnectingwith his bestie. If you know what I mean.”
“Shut up, Mitch.”
He laughed, and I hoped we could finally return to the reason we were meeting. The final steps in forming my nonprofit and getting the support I needed to sustain it in case something happened—
“This reminds me of the second thing I was alluding to earlier.”
I searched my brain, skipping past the memories of Brock, which would only derail me, and remembered our earlier conversation about whether I’d lost my touch as a hardened CEO. I was almost afraid to ask. “Which is?”
“There’s a part you hide from everyone, especially your son—although now that I think about it, our friendly neighborhood chef might have noticed—”
“Mitch,” I said with a growl.
He laughed. “Case in point. You act tough, Joshua, but inside, you’re just a big squishy teddy bear needing a cuddle.”
CHAPTER2
Brock
Fingers snapped in my face.“Wake up, lover boy,” Nevaeh said, nodding to the line where Vincent, our sous-chef, was checking plates before they went out. “He’s been looking over here. No slacking.”
“I’m not—I wasn’t—” But her words were hard to deny when my white sauce was getting lumpy.
“Man problems?” Nevaeh asked, and I rolled my eyes. She was obsessed with guys. Which was a little weird for a lesbian.
“No.”
