I want to see you again. You should come visit Chili. Call me sometime. I’m going to miss you. I couldn’t get the words out of my tight throat.
I gave that kind, sweet, gorgeous, frowning man a nod, and crutched off down his driveway to settle the dogs in the back seat for the ride to Shane’s.
Joe was blessedly quiet for most of the drive, but as we turned down Shane’s street, he asked, “You sure you know what you’re doing? He didn’t look like a guy who wanted you to go.”
Maybe not. Trading easy hook-up sex for a difficult sister probably isn’t on Brooklyn’s favorite things list either. But he’s not a man to dodge his responsibilities, and all I can do to help is clear the way. “Yeah,” I said. “I know what I’m doing.”
CHAPTER 12
BROOKLYN
“He didn’t have to go.” Cheyenne eyed me as we sat at the dinner table. She’d eaten about half the tuna casserole on her plate.
I’d managed to push mine around a lot but, despite having spent the entire day with six dogs, I wasn’t hungry. “He did have to go.” I sighed and put my fork at the five o’clock position. “You…” Made it impossible to stay? Were horrible? Gave him no choice? I didn’t finish the sentence.
“You didn’t tell me that he had a headache. Or that the last tuna was for his cat. If you don’t talk to me, then how am I supposed to know things?” She pouted.
“Cheyenne…” At least I remembered to use her full name. Breaking myself of the habit of using the nickname I gave her when she was little was proving tougher than I thought.
“Brooklyn…” She arched an eyebrow. Then relented by wincing. “I’m cockblocking you, aren’t I?”
“Where did you learn that word?”
“Oh God. Just because I lived with Mom and Dad doesn’t mean I never went to school. Or encountered books.”
“Books in the library?” Because the Piperston library commission had, at least when I’d been there, been run by some Baptists who took exception to every book that wasn’t about the resurrection, Armageddon, or maybe cookbooks, woodcraft, similar shit. No fiction that wasn’t squeaky fluffy, no real history, definitely no current affairs. Not all the families were religious—but none of them wanted their kids contaminated by woke global world views.
Once I’d been booted and had moved into the outside world, I’d discovered how very warped my family’s perspective had been. I might’ve been curious as a teen, but perhaps a bit wary, before I’d encountered real life outside the community. After? I knew I’d never go back. Never espouse those views again.
She rolled her eyes. “No, you dumb fuck. Not in the library.”
I glared. “Look, I get that you’ve never been allowed to swear before?—”
“And yet, I did anyway.”
“—but you’re not welcome to come into my house and drop curse words whenever you feel like it. Especially when we’ve got company.”
“Arthur.”
“Or anyone else. Classy is important?—”
“You swear.”
I ground my teeth. Because she was right, of course. She was usually more right than wrong. “Whether I do or not isn’t the point. This is my house. These are my rules. I never swear around clients, for example. Or anyone I don’t know.”
She harumphed.
Breathe. She’s been through a horrible?—
My phone buzzed with an incoming call. Arthur? Maybe he wants to let me know that he’s settled and is doing okay. That he wants to alleviate my fears. Because he’s kind and considerate like that.
I checked the screen.
New York. Unknown number.
That meant it was more likely spam than a business call, but I couldn’t neglect a potential customer. “Brooklyn’s Doggie Daycare,” I answered. “Can I help you?”
I was braced for a sales pitch about insurance or new windows, but there was just silence on the other end, followed by dead air as they ended the call.
