25. Brock Jones
Chapter twenty-five
Brock Jones
I shut the car door, then wipe my rain-soaked hand on my sweatpants.
Shaw stands nearby with his hands in his pockets.
Ariel left a little while ago since she had to work too, but promised Sutton she’d see her this afternoon.
Now, Sutton and my parents are in the back yard touring my mom’s garden.
I slipped away to throw my things in my car, but Shaw must have followed me.
“Leaving without saying goodbye again?”
I sigh. “For the last time, I was sick the night of Emmett and Hazel’s wedding.”
“I hope they believe that, otherwise you hurt your most reserved friend and his incredibly sweet wife.”
I cross my arms over my chest. “I hope they believe it too, because it’s the truth.”
Sort of. I wasn’t sick, but I did have a mild panic attack in their bathroom. That seems reason enough to need to leave during a wedding reception.
“And was it the truth that you’re going to see Sutton again before we leave tomorrow?” He stares me down, unrelenting.
“I said maybe.”
Shaw looks toward the house, his jaw clenching.
“That maybe better mean you’re going to stop by sometime tonight or in the morning. You can bring her a gift, apologize for being a jerk, and tell her next time she calls you’ll do your best to answer.”
“And why would I do that?”
He looks at me, but instead of a glare, there’s hurt in his eyes. “Why would you not? Man, you’re hurting her. I can take you not answering me or bailing on game nights. But Sutton? She may put on a brave face, but you and I both know she’s more sensitive than she lets on.”
“I’m not trying to hurt her.” I drop my hands and clench my fists. “This is just a season. It’s hard to keep up with everything.”
“If you can’t call your sister back or visit your parents, then maybe it’s time to rearrange your priorities.”
I bite back the harsh words that fly through my mind.
All that will do is hurt him–and my jaw when he swings at me.
He doesn’t understand. He won at life. He’s got the trophies and the fame and a wife.
If he retired tomorrow, no one would bat an eye because he made it .
I haven’t yet. But I will. Then I’ll have time for vacations and video games.
“I’ll stop by later to say bye. Tell everyone I had to go,” I say in a tight voice, then open my door.
“I know you’re mad at me, but I have to tell you the truth if no one else will.”
“I know, because you love Sutton.”
I slide into the car, and I’m about to slam the door when he says, “No, because you’ve been my brother since elementary school. We’re always straight with each other.”
I hear the accusation in his words. He thinks I’m not being honest. And I might be embellishing a few details, but the core truths are there. He just doesn’t like what they are.
“I’ll see you later.” I shut the door and drive off, leaving him standing in the front yard alone. But he won’t be lonely. He’s got a wife and adoring fans and a successful career to return to. Unlike me.
I’m standing in Target, staring at Star Wars figurines, trying to remember which ones Sutton has, when my phone rings. Ariel’s name pops up on the screen.
“Perfect timing,” I say when I pick up.
“That’s unusual for you to say when it comes to me. Or really anyone who calls you.”
“Well, I’m about to buy Sutton one of those Star Wars bobbleheads, but I can’t remember which ones she wants.”
“I think she has the whole collection.”
I tip my head back in defeat. There goes that idea.
“But, you don’t need a gift to buy your way into her good graces,” she adds, “because I have the perfect plan.”
There’s a devious quality to her voice that has me worried.
“I’m going to hate this plan, aren’t I?” I groan.
“Probably, which is what makes it all the better.”
I scowl even though she can’t see me. “And what is this amazing plan of yours?”
“We’re getting pedicures together.”
I blink. “What?”
“Me, you, Shaw, and Sutton are going to get a pedicure. I already booked it. Sutton doesn’t know you’re coming, but I know she’ll be ecstatic.”
“I’m not getting my nails done, I’m a grown man.”
Ariel laughs. “Debatable. And besides, Shaw is getting his done. Is your masculinity so fragile you can’t soak your feet in some water for an hour?”
I wipe a hand over my face. “Why do you think this will make her happy with me? Can’t I just pay for hers and call it a night?”
Ariel scoffs. “Sutton is filthy rich. She doesn’t need you to pay for it. She needs you to show up for her. And make her laugh–which watching you get a pedicure will certainly accomplish.”
“Fine,” I growl. “But I’m not staying longer than an hour.”
“Yes, yes, the very busy sports agent who never has fun has to go back to work. Ugh, spare me.” I clench my phone tighter. She continues, “We’re about to leave for the salon. I’ll text you the address to meet us at.”
“Have I told you lately how much I despise you?”
She lets out a happy sigh. “No, and I’ve missed it.”
I hang up on her laughter.
“I can’t believe I’m about to do this,” I mutter under my breath as I walk back to the front of the store.
On my way out, I spy a Star Wars blanket. It’s cheap, but I know Sutton will love it, and she gets cold easily, so it will be good for the plane ride. I buy it and bring it with me. Can’t hurt anything.
It–unfortunately–doesn’t take me long to get to the nail salon. I walk inside and grimace at the strong smell of nail polish. When Sutton and Ariel used to paint their nails in her room, the smell always made me nauseous. This is a hundred times worse.
Sutton gasps when she sees me. “Brock! I can’t believe you’re here.”
Even Shaw looks surprised. Ariel, of course, does not.
I walk over to the large massage chairs they’re all seated in. There’s one left next to Ariel, with water bubbling in the foot tub. A petite, elderly woman with long black hair walks over to me.
“Take off your shoes, roll up your pants, and sit,” she orders with no preamble. What happened to hello?
The hard look in her dark brown eyes has me scrambling. Ariel giggles as I get situated. The woman presses a few buttons on the chair, and it starts pounding away at my back like it’s angry at me for sitting in it. I grip the armrests with wide eyes.
“Put your feet in the water,” the woman says, and I do so. It’s scalding hot. “Too hot?” she asks. I shake my head. “Good. We will be right with you.”
She walks away. The volume of Ariel’s laughter increases the further the old woman gets.
“What is going on?” I hiss.
Ariel leans over and turns down the massage to a more comfortable level. I hover my feet above the steaming water to avoid third-degree burns.
“She can be intense, but this place gives the best pedicures,” Ariel says.
I look across her to Shaw, who’s sitting furthest away from me.
“You seriously said yes to this?” I ask him.
He shrugs. “Anything to make my wife happy.”
Sutton leans over and gives him a kiss.
I roll my eyes and sit back in my chair.
“Lighten up, Carolina,” Ariel says. “This is supposed to be relaxing.”
“Getting beat up while being boiled alive is relaxing?”
“Don’t be a baby. It’s not that bad. Beauty is pain.”
“Is that what they tell women to sell them awful things? You have my full permission to boycott all of it. Starting with this.”
Her head tips back as she laughs. I bite back a smile at the sight.
“Thank you for your permission , but I’m good. We like this, don’t we Sutton?” Ariel asks my sister.
Sutton nods. “Pedicures are amazing.”
“If you say so,” I mumble.
Four people walk out of a back room dressed in all black. Is this a cult? It feels cult-adjacent. Leading the charge is the tiny mean grandma from before. She sits on the rolling chair in front of me. Oh, great. This is going to go swell.
She taps my right leg. I look at her blankly.
“Put your foot up,” Ariel whispers next to me.
I gingerly set my foot on the towel the woman has laid out. She grabs a package of metal torture instruments and dumps it out in a basket nearby. Then she picks up something that resembles the pincers of a poisonous bug and starts pinching at the skin around my toenails.
“Ow! What is she doing?” I whisper to Ariel, who keeps laughing at me.
“She’s trimming the dead skin around your nails.”
“The skin feels very alive to me.” I wince as she clips away to her heart’s content.
Each metal tool is a different form of agony. Ariel and Sutton chat away like this is normal, meanwhile Shaw is asking the guy working on his feet how he got into the business and what his life story is. How he’s managing coherent words while being tortured is beyond me.
Ariel turns to me. “Why do you look like you’re having a tooth pulled? Chill.”
I glare at her. “This is miserable.”
“It looks like she’s moving on to the scrubs and massage now. That should be better for you.”
I force my muscles to relax as the woman spreads some kind of gritty paste all over my legs. The scrub, if I had to guess. The woman massages it into my shin and it feels…okay. Weird, but not in a bad way.
I draw in a deep breath, then let it out in a surprised yelp when she puts the paste between my toes.
“What is wrong with you?” Sutton asks through a fit of giggles.
“Why is she touching my toes so much?”
“Because it’s a pedicure ,” Ariel says, wiping tears away from how hard she’s laughing.
Shaw is laughing with them, and I’m ready to leave when she starts on my other foot.
I involuntarily kick on instinct, and the woman ducks to the side to dodge it with lightning speed.
“Brock!” Ariel reaches over and hits me, then looks at the woman. “I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
I gape at her. “Is she okay? I’m the one being tormented over here!”
“It’s not that bad,” Shaw says through his laughter.
I point at him. “But you didn’t say it was good. You’re holding in how much you hate this.”
“Yes, because I’m a man.”
“If I had something to throw at you right now, I would,” I say and sit back in my seat.
“I won’t touch your toes,” the woman says.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I’m sorry for kicking you.”
She shrugs. “It happens. I’m fast.”
I give Ariel a pointed look. “See, I’m not the only one who feels this way.”
“But you are the only one here who just tried to knock out your nail tech because she tickled you.” She pats my arm condescendingly. “It’s okay, you just have sensitive feet.”
“We’re back to my feet again.” I smirk. “I think my theory was right.”
Her face turns red and she shoots me a warning look.
“What are you two talking about?” Sutton asks.
“Just about how Brock is being overdramatic,” Ariel says quickly before turning her attention back to Sutton.
I chuckle at her blush until I spy Shaw watching us. I’ve been too talkative with Ariel lately. And she touched me a few times. He’s liable to get suspicious.
My brow furrows. Why was she touching me so much?
I don’t think it’s always been that way with us.
My mind brings up different memories from the past few weeks.
I pull at the collar of my button-down as my neck gets hot.
Okay, so we’ve had some more moments lately.
No big deal. I’ll just make sure to put some distance between us so that no one gets the wrong idea.
I glance over at Ariel’s pink cheekbones. I hope she hasn’t gotten the wrong idea, either.