Chapter 7 #2
I level her with a simple look, and she pipes down. “Okay,” she says as I lower her onto the bed. “I need to call work, then. I’m supposed to meet a client in an hour.”
“You were going to go to work today?” I say, dumbstruck. This infuriating, irresistible woman. I look around her room. “Where is your phone?”
My breath catches when I see the framed photograph of us on her bedside table, right where it’s been since the day she had it printed and framed.
It’s a picture of me, her, Jamie, and Teddy on the day Teddy was born.
Evie is holding Teddy, and my arm is wrapped around her shoulder as Jamie gives the camera a thumbs up, his arm wrapped around us, a wide, goofy smile plastered on his face.
Seeing that photo front and center on her nightstand—where she would see it every morning before getting up and every night before falling asleep—gives me hope.
She doesn’t hate me after all.
“It’s there,” she says, pointing at her dresser.
I retrieve the phone and hand it to her. “Call work. Now.”
She grimaces at my tone and shoots Maggie an imploring look. “Grandma?”
Maggie crosses her arms. “Oh, no. I’m on Brandon’s side for this one.”
She huffs. “You realize this means I’m gonna need to hire some help, right?” She lifts a brow. “You’re not going up and down those stairs.”
“I’ll do the laundry,” I offer, eager to climb through this unexpected window into Evie’s life. All other points of entry have been boarded up for over three years now. “And whatever else needs doing.”
Evie scrunches her nose. “And handle our unmentionables? As if.”
“Then I’ll have Dana do it.”
“No. I can’t ask that of her or you.” She looks at Maggie. “So, as long as you’re fine with accepting outside help?”
Maggie nods reluctantly. “You need to rest, Evie.” She sighs and pushes away from the doorway. “I’m going to make us all some breakfast.”
Evie sneers at me when Maggie’s gone, reverting back to her default petulance when it’s just me and her. But I don’t mind. In fact, I’m thrilled. Not only is Evie talking to me again, but she’s accepting help, too.
This is the breakthrough I’ve been waiting for.
“Stop stalling and make the phone call, Evie.” I cross my arms and lean against the wall next to her bed, watching her with the rapt focus of a prison warden.
She fumes silently but, to my astonishment, does what she’s told. She must be more desperate for a break than she lets on. She would never allow me to boss her around like this under any other circumstance.
Unlocking her phone, she rifles through her contacts and lifts it to her ear. A few seconds pass before she sighs. “Hey, Adam. It’s Evie. Evie Montgomery.”
I grin at the uncertain look on her face. Has she ever called in sick?
She rolls her eyes at herself. “As if you know any other Evies. Anyway, I, uh . . . I can’t visit clients today.
” She smooths her palm across her floral duvet.
“Why? Oh, uh, well . . . I was in a car accident last night.” She cringes.
“Yes, I’m totally okay. I think. Anyway, I can’t come in. Because of . . . that.”
I shake my head, amused by how awkward this is for her. Is it because she’s calling in sick? Or because she’s speaking to Adam?
“How long? Oh. At least a day, for sure. I should be back on my fe—”
I snatch the phone out of her hand. “Adam? Hi. It’s Brandon.”
“Brandon?” he repeats, surprised. “Hey, man.”
“Hey.” I dodge Evie’s nails as she makes a swipe at me. Smirking, I step away from her. She glares daggers at me as I pace around her room.
It’s more amusing than it should be.
“You’re there with her now?” He sounds politely curious about why we’re together, and even after all this time, my stomach aches with guilt and regret.
“I am. She’ll be out of commission for the week at least, maybe longer.
” I glance at her as I pass by. Her ears are bright red, and I stifle a grin.
“I’ll be looking after her personally over the next week.
” At that, Evie grumbles. “In fact, if you need to contact her, I’d rather you reach out to me first. You know what she’s like.
” I remind him he has my phone number, end the call, and drop the phone onto her bed. “Now, was that so hard?”
“I hate you,” she hisses. “Get out.”
I smile. “Sure you do, Spitfire.” My eyes dart to the photo of us on her nightstand.
It makes me feel a little cocky, knowing she still cares.
“I told you you’re on bed rest for the week.
” I look around her exceptionally clean, tidy room.
Hard working and organized. Great assistant material.
“Now, what do you need before I go? You’re not getting out of bed until next Friday at least.”
“Brandon, so help me . . .” Her voice trails as her body sags. She’s losing steam. I come closer and lift her chin. She jerks away from my touch. “Don’t.”
“What do you need?” I repeat softly.
“A shower,” she admits, sighing. “My hair is filthy, and I stink.” She shakes her head. “But you can’t help with that. So never mind.”
“Evie,” I chastise gently. “I can help.” I can wash her hair under the tub faucet at the very least.
She snorts, then carefully lowers down onto the bed before rolling onto her side so she’s facing away from me. “I bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” she mumbles.
I ignore her snark. “You have my number if you change your mind.”
She turns specifically to give me a wide-eyed, sarcastic smile. “I won’t. Now leave. You’ve done enough.”
“I’ll be back to check on you later.”
She pulls the covers over her head. “Don’t bother. I’d rather rot.”
I chuckle as I move toward the door. I’ve missed her so much. “Goodnight, Spitfire.”
I’m about to shut the door behind me but pause at the last second. Feeling a little adventurous, I stick my head back into the room. “Oh, and Evie?”
The blanket muffles her acknowledging grunt.
“Try not to lose the game while I’m gone.”