Chapter 9
Tobias
It’s been a week and a half since Brooke came to my house and I managed to get her to stay for dinner.
A week and a half of her driving my car. A week and a half of her working for my company. A week and a half of her eating lunch I provide. A week and a half of her playing with the puppy I gave her.
It’s also been a week and a half since I’ve seen her face, and I’m about to lose my mind over it.
The hardest days were the weekend. When I couldn’t order her lunch or make sure Maren checked her office-supply status.
As long as I could do those two things—feel like I’ve been able to take care of her on at least some level—I’ve managed decently well.
Somewhat.
But this morning when Maren comes in and I remind her to check on Brooke’s office supplies, she looks at me funny. Then she casually says, “Brooke isn’t here today. She called in sick.”
So now, I’m storming through the building to see for myself. Make sure Maren’s right before I start acting an ass for no reason.
When I come face-to-face with her dark office, my blood boils and my rage is directed straight at my oldest brother.
Is it an overreaction?
Yes. I can admit that.
But Titus should have let me know. The same way he should’ve let me know that he hired my ex-girlfriend to work for him in the first place.
Stalking back to my wing of the building, I stomp into my office and start collecting my shit. I’ve purposely avoided obtaining Brooke’s cell number, and now I regret it. Especially since I know my parents are out of town and she’s alone with no one making sure she’s okay.
Once I have everything packed up to go, I turn to my administrative assistant and bark out, “I’m taking the rest of the day off.”
He looks at me like I’ve got five heads, because that particular collection of words has never left my mouth before.
I’m always here. Rain or shine. Snow or sleet.
Sick or not. I don’t miss work. Not just because we have more to do than we can handle, but also because it’s what’s kept me sane.
Given me purpose. Occupied my mind to keep me from thinking about the same shit I did at night when I was home alone.
“Are you okay?” He sucks in a breath, hand coming to his chest. “Oh my God, are you dying?”
“No, but someone might.”
I’m not going to kill my brother. I’m just gonna think about it.
And his kids are probably getting miniature cows now.
I’m in my truck and backing out when my brain finally starts to run through what’s happening, and that I’m probably not handling it the best. I can’t just barge in and demand Brooke allow me to take care of her.
I don’t have what I need to do that at my house.
Punching the screen in my dash, I dial a number I do have. I know making this move is going to send the family group chat into a tizzy, but I don’t give a shit. All I care about is that Brooke isn’t lying in an empty house suffering alone.
Mariah picks up, her voice cheery. “Hey, Tobias. How are things?”
Outside of wanting to beat the shit out of her future husband? Fucking terrible.
“Good,” I lie, because I know anything I say to her is going to be repeated to Titus. “I’ve had a hankering for chicken noodle soup, and don’t really know how to make it. Do you have a recipe you could send me?”
“Of course.” She pauses. “I have a few. A basic one. A creamy one.” Another pause, this one longer. “One that has some extra spices in it and tastes really good when you’re sick. I’ll send you that one.”
Shit. I think I’m already found out.
Don’t care. “Great. Thanks.”
I hang up before I can give away any more, and drive myself straight to the grocery store.
Mariah’s already sent me what I asked for, so I hurry up and down the aisles, dumping in not only the required ingredients for the soup, but also a loaf of fancy looking bread, the butter my mother swears is the best, some electrolyte beverages, and half the pharmacy.
I don’t know what’s wrong with her, but I want to be able to take care of it.
To take care of her.
I manage to make it home faster than I ever have, but instead of going to my place, I go straight to my parents’, pulling my truck up directly in front of the small staircase leading to the back entrance.
Letting myself in, I pause, hoping I’ll hear her moving around. That she’s not actually sick, just in need of a little break.
But the house is silent.
Don’t like that.
Heading straight for the stairs, I take them two at a time, boots hitting the second floor a little louder than they probably should. I hear Brooke gasp, and hate that I’ve scared her, but it gave away her location, which is helpful in tracking her down.
“Brooke?” I don’t want her to freak out, so I say her name loud enough she can hear my voice as I pace toward the room where she’s staying. I knock on the half open door. “Can I come in?”
“Sure.” Her voice is rough. Nasally. Miserable.
Letting myself inside, I come face-to-face with two things. One hell of a sick woman, and one hell of a spoiled dog.
I kinda forgot about Bruno. But it’s fine. If anything, the puppy makes me even more sure this is what needs to happen. Because there’s no way the woman shivering under the covers, surrounded by a mountain of used tissues, can take care of him right now.
I slowly move toward where Brooke is cuddled up in the king size bed. Her nose is red and her skin is pale. The long waves of her dark hair are wrapped up in a messy wad at the top of her head, and her top lip is chapped.
I’ve never seen her like this, and I don’t like it. When we had dinner together, it was pretty obvious she’s holding back on something big. Something bad. Something that’s probably going to make me slightly homicidal when I find out what it is.
She’s been through enough, and doesn’t deserve any more misery.
“Come on.” I gently pull back the covers. “Let’s get you somewhere you can be taken care of.” I scoop her up, gritting my teeth at how hot she feels. It’s clear no one has been taking care of her.
Not even Brooke.
Holding her close, I angle her body through the doorway, carrying her down the stairs.
She’s all but limp in my arms as I load her into the passenger seat of my truck, tilting it back so she isn’t forced to remain upright.
Getting her as comfortable as I can, I push back the strands of hair stuck to her forehead.
“I’m going to go get Bruno. I’ll be right back. ”
She doesn’t respond, and that only makes me move faster. I run up to her room, grabbing everything I can carry, before running back down. I drop everything but the dog into the back seat, then get behind the wheel, Bruno tucked into my lap.
My house is the closest to my parents’, so I’m pulling into my garage in only a few minutes, backing the truck into position before getting out and setting Bruno on the floor. He’s little, but hopefully big enough to tag along as I collect his mama from her seat and carry her in.
I take Brooke straight to the couch, laying her across the cushions. “I’ll be right back.”
Taking the stairs two at a time, I go straight up to my bedroom and start grabbing blankets and pillows off the bed. I carry all that down to where Brooke is looking around with bleary eyes. Her brows pinch together as I go down to my knees and begin tucking pillows under her head.
She struggles to focus on my face. “How did I get here?”
“By letting your fever get so high you're delirious.” I cover her with the plush blanket my mother swore I needed so my bedroom would look aesthetically pleasing. Not sure why that mattered since I’m the only one who’s ever been inside it, but arguing with Deidre Bradshaw about the importance of good design is pointless.
“Why haven’t you taken anything to bring your temperature down? ”
Brooke’s gaze finally finds my face. “Because I don’t know where any of it is.”
Fucking hell. I hate that she’s in this position. Hate whatever made her run here with nothing. Hate whoever made this her only option.
But damned if I’m not also grateful as hell, because it’s what brought her back to me. Gave me the second chance I never thought would happen.
“You rest.” I run the back of my hand across her forehead, the heat radiating from her skin forcing me away from her side.
Bruno has finally made his way to the stairs leading inside the house, and is scrambling up them.
I pause to scoop his little body up and set it on the hardwood before going to collect everything from my truck.
It takes me three trips to get the puppy’s shit, and everything I bought at the grocery, into the house.
Once I’ve taken Bruno out for a quick pee to make sure he doesn’t immediately relieve himself in the house and create more work for me, I dig through the bags to find the medications I bought.
Selecting the one that seems to fit her symptoms best, I pop the gel tabs free from the foil, get one of the electrolyte drinks, and go to where Brooke is sleeping—open-mouthed, thanks to her stuffy nose.
Being as gentle as I can, I slide one hand under her back and lift her upright. “Time to take some medicine, sweetheart.” The endearment slips right out, and I don’t even try to stop it. She’s not gonna remember any of this anyway, and I like how it sounds too much to take it back.
I place the pills on her tongue, one at a time, helping her tip back a mouthful of lemon lime flavored rehydration after each one. Once they’re in her belly, I tuck her back in, close the blinds, and turn on the television, selecting a soothing music station to play while I go to work.
I get Bruno all set up, putting out his crate and toys, along with his food and water bowls, before putting away all the groceries I got, leaving out the items I’ll be using immediately.
While Brooke sleeps, I chop vegetables and shred a rotisserie chicken, combining everything with bone broth and an odd collection of seasonings that includes cinnamon and nutmeg, along with a squeeze of fresh lemon juice.
It seems weird, but I trust Mariah. So far, I haven’t tasted a single thing she’s made that I wouldn’t fistfight one of my brothers for.
Once the soup is set to simmer, I go back to check on Brooke.
She’s sleeping soundly, and when I press my hand to her forehead, it seems to feel cooler than before.
Satisfied I’ve done as much as I can, I spend the next hour and a half making sure there’s nothing embarrassing in any of the areas of my house she’ll likely be visiting during her stay.
The last thing I need is her thinking I don’t know how to put a toilet seat down or scrub a bathtub.
Though having a filthy house did work out pretty well for Titus…
Fucking Titus. Again, I want to be pissed at him. Want to kick his ass. Especially after the way I found Brooke.
But if Titus hadn’t hired her, I definitely wouldn’t have known she was sick. And if I hadn’t known she was sick…
She’d still be laying in bed, burning up from a fever, too weak to take care of herself or call someone else to.
Speaking of calling someone else…
Grabbing my phone, I text my admin assistant, asking him to email me a list of all the company phone numbers. Malik is amazing and has them to me in under five minutes. He also doesn’t ask any questions, which makes him my current favorite person.
Not counting the one snoring on my sofa.
Scrolling through the documents, I quickly find Brooke and type her number into my phone, creating a contact before messaging her directly. No more of this she can’t get in touch with me if she needs me bullshit. I don’t care if it’s overstepping or too much, too fast.
This is about making sure she’s taken care of and has someone to count on. I’ll be damned if I’m going to let anyone fill those two positions but me.
I hear her phone ding from the bag I collected out of her room when my text registers. Satisfied I’ve done all I can, I stand there for a minute, unsure what to do now.
Without any better ideas, I go into the great room, intending to once again check on Brooke. What I find there stops me in my tracks. The flush of her cheeks has calmed, and her breaths seem to come easier. The medication I managed to get her to take is clearly working.
But that’s not what has me rubbing the center of my chest.
Copper is tucked up close to her mama, nose to ass, looking content and comfortable.
Bruno is dancing around the edge of the couch, doing his darndest to climb up.
He’s too little to be successful, so I offer a helping hand, scooping him up and settling him on top of the blankets.
I’m shocked when he goes straight for Copper, nosing his way right up against the older dog until he’s wedged between her and Brooke, before yawning and passing out himself.
And I gotta admit, they look like they’re onto something there.
Unfortunately, I don’t have the right—or the space—to wrap myself around the woman they clearly favor over me.
So I prop myself up on the other side of the sectional, leaning back into the corner so all I have to do is move my eyes to one side and I can see where Brooke’s resting.
I don’t want to turn on a television show, because I don’t want to disturb her, so I decide to wake up my phone, open the family group chat…
And start some shit.