Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
I sigh, looking at Xavier, who is still watching me with a dark expression. Will he be pissed off if I say no? I barely know them. Yet the look on his face makes my stomach knot when I realize he isn’t looking at me, but past me at my brother.
“Yes, they would be good tenants,” I tell him, hoping that is true.
Jack is forgiving when it comes to my brother, but I don’t think he would be forgiving if he gets a huge damage bill from them, not that I think they would destroy the place. I hope not, anyway. I nod to Jack and turn toward the door.
“Bella, he needs to go. I don’t want him here after last time,” Jack warns.
I nod to him, pushing the door open and rushing out and over to my brother, who is waiting impatiently. He starts walking over to me angrily.
“That pissy landlord better not have called the cops on me,” he snaps at me.
He snatches my keys from my grip before throwing the door open and reversing so quickly I jump back before he runs me over.
My car screeches out of the parking lot as he tears out of the place.
I sigh, pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration, before walking back upstairs to my apartment to cancel my card before he uses it.
I race up the steps and rush inside, grabbing my phone, tapping my banking app, and canceling my card.
He is going to be pissed, but the last time he did that, he wiped me clean, and I was already behind in rent.
I have a good tenant history now. I don’t want him ruining it with Jack as well.
Canceling the card and letting out a breath, I place my phone down on the counter when I hear a knock on my door. I am about to ignore Xavier when he calls out.
“Open it, Bella,” he says, his tone sounding angry.
Great, now I have to deal with another asshole and hope he doesn't start rumors at work about my psychotic brother. I open the door and wave him in.
“Interesting character that brother of yours is. Seems like a fine chap,” Xavier says, not even hiding the sarcasm as he steps inside and walks into my kitchen.
He flicks the kettle on like he just got home.
“By all means, help yourself,” I tell him, and he smirks.
“Well, after the earlier coffee incident, I think you should stay away from hot water,” he says, opening the cupboard and looking for mugs.
I grab coffee and sugar from the pantry, placing them on the counter.
“Your brother always smacks you around?” he asks, and I look at him to find his eyes trained on the side of my face.
I open my mouth to lie when he pins me with his eyes, daring me to try to lie my way out of it. I look away, swallowing nervously, his intense gaze making dread fill me.
“He was in a bad mood. He didn’t mean it.”
“You should have him charged,” he says, his eyes going back to my cheek and ear.
I pull my hair forward.
“What's his deal, anyway?” Xavier asks. I shrug, not wanting to tell him my personal business.
“How did it go with Jack?” I ask instead of answering.
“Good, guess we are your new neighbors," he says a little too enthusiastically.
I nod, pursing my lips, but at least I won’t get stuck next to someone like the last girl; she had men coming in and out of her apartment like it was a truck stop.
Jack kicked her out when he found she and the girl she lived with were using the place for their night activities, the neighbors constantly complaining about the moaning and vulgar language coming from the place.
“Now, back to the asshole you call a brother.”
“Drop it. My personal life is none of your business,” I tell him, and I see his fingers twitch before he grabs the pot, pouring the hot water into the mugs.
“Hopefully, he doesn’t come back. That won't end well for him if Latham gets a hold of him.”
“He isn’t all bad,” I lie.
The man is psychotic and a drug addict and every other horrid thing, but he is my brother, and he is right; I owed him. Unfortunately for me, I don't think I will ever not owe him or ever be able to live free of him.
Xavier looks at me but doesn’t mention anything else on the subject.
Walking to the living room, he follows, sitting on the couch across from me.
I flick the afternoon news on, and we sit in very awkward silence.
I can practically see the questions he wants to ask spinning violently in his head as he stares rather creepily at me while I try to ignore him, praying Latham or Blaine hurry and pick him up soon.
When they do arrive, he gets a text message and glances at his phone.
“Latham is here,” he says, getting up, putting his empty coffee mug in the sink, and rinsing it.
Relief floods me when I watch him walk out the door. He stops lingering for a few seconds in the doorway like he wants to say something before nodding and walking off.
As soon as he leaves, I grab my dining table chair and place it under the door handle in case my brother comes back, but when he hasn’t after a few hours, I finally decide to go shower and try to get some sleep.
I know it is only a matter of time before my brother comes back raging about the card not working, but for now, he must have just used the cash he stole from my wallet to get drunk or high because if it wasn’t enough, he definitely would have been back hauling my ass to the closest ATM.