Chapter Seventy-One #2
“Waiting for the scan results, but she seems to be okay. Physically, at least.”
“The bastard who did this to her is in surgery. You broke his jaw.”
“Good.”
“And his nose. His eye socket…”
“He had it coming.”
“I’m not denying that,” Lennon agreed. “I am just keeping you updated. There’s also a couple of reporters outside.”
“Reporters? Really?”
“Miss Coulter has been popular in the news circles, being so successful at such a young age. They heard she’s been attacked by her assistant’s boyfriend. They are going to want a statement. I don’t do statements.”
“Neither do I.” Or the rest of my team.
“What is it?” Cam’s voice asked, coming up behind us, making me turn to find him standing there, red-eyed, but pulled together again.
“Reporters,” I told him. “They want a statement. Neither Lennon’s nor my team do that sort of shit.”
“Do you know someone who does?” he asked, already reaching for his phone to start to look around himself.
“There is a firm in Navesink Bank that does crisis management. They could be here within an hour and a half. I don’t think Miranda will be released before that.”
“I’m on it,” Cam said, nodding.
“You can drop my name. They know me.”
“Got it,” he said, giving me a nod. “She wants to see you,” he added as he headed toward the door.
I was already on my way.
“Hey, baby,” I said, moving in to find her still wiping her eyes. “You two okay?”
“Yeah. I think we both just needed a good cry over it.”
“You know him better than anyone, is he going to be okay?”
“I’ll see to it. He sees one of the best therapists in the city. And I invited him to stay in the guest room for a while. I don’t think it’s good for him to go home to that apartment with Ritchie’s things all around.”
“He’s staying in my room?” I asked, hoping the vulnerability didn’t slip into my words too much. I wasn’t sure I succeeded, though. Because some part of me was terrified that she was going to dismiss me now that the job was done. And after witnessing the darkness take over me back in that studio.
Miranda patted the side of her bed as she shifted her legs out of the way.
And, fuck, did this feel like the set up for a letdown.
But I walked over anyway.
I sat down.
“I don’t want you in the guest room anymore,” she said as I pretended not to tense up. “I want you in my room,” she went on. “With me,” she finished.
“Yeah?” I asked, giving her a tentative smile.
“I mean, I know the job is technically done, and maybe you want to get back to your own life, but if—“
“I would like you to be a part of my life,” I cut her off, watching as her gaze lifted, eyes hopeful.
“I know there are… geographical complications,” she said.
“It’s an hour away, sweetheart, not a world. And I am a known slacker who only takes jobs when he really needs to. I can be in the city as much as I want.”
“Cam cleared my schedule for a week.”
“I heard that.”
“I was thinking that, maybe after a couple of days, we could… spend some time at your house,” she suggested.
“I would fucking love that,” I said, watching her eyes go soft at my immediate agreement.
“Besides, it sounds like there is a bit of a media storm going on,” I told her, watching as her eyes widened.
“It might be nice to get out of the city for a bit. And, if you are away, Cam and Mitchell can get some much-needed time off as well.”
“I can’t imagine what Cam is going through,” she said, shaking her head. “Realizing you’ve been sleeping next to a monster. What?” she asked, making me realize my eyes must have slid away at the thoughts that were moving through my head.
About being a bit of a monster myself.
About her seeing that part of me.
“Brock,” she called, her hand landing on mine when I didn’t answer her. “Why do you look so upset?”
To that, I sighed. “I just… I didn’t ever want you to see me get dark like that.”
“You were defending me,” she said, brows drawing together. “I think anyone would get a little dark when they are defending someone who is… special to them. I mean, not that I’m, you know, special to you. I just—“
“Sweetheart,” I cut her off, saving her from even another second more of uncertainty, insecurity. “You are absolutely very special to me.”
I wasn’t quite ready to say the words I was really feeling. And I didn’t think she wanted to hear them while in a hospital bed after having been attacked.
But there would be plenty of time for that.
“Okay, Miss Coulter,” a voice said a while later, after the doctor came in and told her that her scans were okay, saying they would get the discharge papers ready. “Let’s get your statement prepared,” he said as he moved in.
“Who are you?” she asked, brows furrowing.
“Quinton Baird,” I told her. “He’s a fixer. Crisis manager,” I clarified. “I wasn’t expecting the boss himself,” I said, reaching out to shake his hand.
“With a client as big as Miranda Coulter, you get me. Until we can find someone who specializes in this sort of shit,” he clarified.
So then he pulled up a seat and they worked out a statement that he would deliver for her to the press as we snuck out through a side door.
“What?” I asked as I felt Miranda’s gaze on my profile as we rode in the back of a cab with Cam in the front, all three of us on our way back to her penthouse.
“Your town is… intriguing,” she said. “Private investigators and ‘fixers’ and the mafia who owns restaurants…”
“Baby, that’s just the tip of the iceberg,” I told her. “But there is plenty of time to fill you in on that later.”
“Over Chinese,” Cam called back to us. “Which should be arriving at the building in under thirty minutes.”
I wondered then if Miranda had ever considered the possibility of having Cam take a more direct role in her company.
He already did so much. So much, in fact, that he managed to step into her shoes when she was away for a few days at the psych ward.
She’d probably been so wrapped up in having him be there to help her manage her life, that she never really stopped to think that he was more than capable of handling her work, so that she could live and manage her own life.
Maybe that was a suggestion I could make to her while we spent some time at my house.
We all walked up to the elevator in silence, ignoring the worried look of the doorman, Frank, whose daughter probably filled him in on the drama. I would find some time to sneak away to talk to him later. But my main focus at the moment was getting Miranda settled.
My arm went around her, and her hand went out to grab Cam’s, all of us just offering silent support after one hell of a day.
“How about you two curl up on the couch and I’ll grab the wine and get the food when it comes?” I suggested. “After you get changed,” I added, looking at Miranda’s bloody clothes. “Cam, I can lend you some lounge around clothes too.”
But then the elevator doors were sliding open, and there we were in the upper hallway. That had a shitton of packages there.
“I ordered some clothes. For both of us,” Cam said, giving Miranda a smile. “Comfy stuff for couch curling and Chinese eating,” he explained. “You too,” he added, giving me a tired-looking, sad smile.
Everyone filed in, grabbing bags as we went, then Cam went through them, dividing them up.
The two of them shuffled off for a wardrobe change, but more so than that, a couple of private moments alone.
So I organized some of the shit on the dining room table, since I figured we were eating on the couch, then got the wine, went down for the food, and set out the plates.
When no one had emerged yet, I made my way down the hall and into Miranda’s room to find her sitting off the side of the bed.
Not crying, but lost in her own head.
Moving forward, I dropped down in front of her, placing my hands on her thighs.
“You okay?” I asked, watching as she looked up at me.
“I’m hungry. And tired. And sad for Cam,” she told me. “I feel like I should be more freaked out.”
“Sometimes it takes a little bit to process shit. So don’t be surprised if after some sleep, or just a couple days pass, you start freaking out about it.
That’s normal. But we can definitely do something about the food thing right now.
And I poured the wine. I know you were a little worried about the drugs, but you should be on the downslide of the effects now, so one drink will be fine. ”
“I need it,” she agreed, standing with me when I got to my feet.
Cam had bought her some sort of super soft, fuzzy off-white pant and sweatshirt set that must have felt like wearing a cloud.
Hearing us, Cam came out in a similar outfit, but in a light blue.
“I look like an outsider,” I said as I looked between them.
“Your’s is dark green and it’s in the bag,” Cam said, trying to give me a smile, but it didn’t reach his red, swollen eyes.
With that, I got changed, we got food, and we all sat on the couch together, eating, watching a movie, and saying nothing.
Eventually, we all fell asleep there as well.
I woke up with Miranda sprawled all over me.
And I knew in that moment that I wanted to wake up every fucking morning for the rest of my life just like that…