Chapter 31
Chapter Thirty-One
She prided herself on not asking about Tool while having lunch with Gypsy. She was grateful neither he nor the others brought it up either. What would she have said? What could she have said that wouldn’t make her sound pathetic?
She’d done what Gypsy told her to do—paid for her classes so she wouldn’t have to worry about it anymore.
Next, she counted the money she had left and realized she had just enough to buy a used car.
Nothing fancy or new, but something that would get her from point A to B.
The car she’d bought back at Christmas had died only a few weeks later leaving her stranded.
Surely, she could find something decent for a few thousand dollars more than what she paid before.
This time she wouldn’t go alone. She’d ask one of the ladies to help her or one of the brothers. If anyone could help her track down a solid used car, it was Killer. They were friends, nothing more. He treated her like a little sister, and that dynamic gave her a rare sense of relief.
She picked up her phone and dialed his number, listening as it rang. When he finally picked up, she could tell she’d interrupted him.
“You okay?” was all Killer asked. If he needed to roll, he would.
“Yeah, sorry. Call me tomorrow when you’re… not busy.”
Killer chuckled. “’Kay. Talk to you tomorrow.”
Brandi checked the time and slapped a hand to her forehead. “Idiot.” She squinted and rubbed the spot, groaning. “That was stupid.”
Just because she didn’t have a life didn’t mean Killer didn’t. The guy might be her friend, but he was still a hoe dog.
Laughing at herself, Brandi grabbed her pajamas and headed for a bath. Maybe a long soak in Epsom salts would ease her sore muscles and get her ankle to stop throbbing. The damn thing still hurt after a full day on her feet.
The water was hot—just the way she liked it. Steam curled around her face as she sank lower, letting the Epsom salts do their thing. Her muscles sighed in relief, her ankle pulsing with a dull ache that slowly began to fade beneath the heat.
For a while, she just sat there, eyes closed, breathing in deep. No phone. No voices. No expectations.
Just silence.
And still, even in the quiet, her thoughts wouldn’t leave her alone.
She hated that she still thought about Tool. Hated that part of her still replayed conversations, looking for signs she missed—hints that maybe he cared the way she’d hoped he did. But hope was dangerous, and Brandi was done getting burned.
She wasn’t mad at him, not really. Just tired. Tired of trying to be someone worth keeping. Tired of measuring herself against some invisible line she was always just shy of crossing.
He hadn’t made her any promises. That part was on her.
Her fingers skimmed the surface of the water, watching the ripples stretch outward. “You’re doing better,” she whispered to herself. “Classes are paid. You’re not broke. You’ve got a plan.”
It wasn’t much. But it was hers.
She let her head rest against the back of the tub and stared up at the ceiling. “You don’t need him,” she muttered. “You just wanted him.”
There was a difference.
A sigh escaped her lips as the tension melted from her shoulders. For once, she wasn’t in crisis. She wasn’t cleaning up someone else’s mess or trying to prove her worth. She was just… here. In a quiet apartment. In a warm bath. Figuring it out.
She’d talk to Killer tomorrow. Ask about finding a car. Check one more thing off the list.
Little by little, she was building something for herself.
And that had to count for something.