Chapter 16
SIXTEEN
brODIE
I step into the bright afternoon sunshine outside the Herald’s Downtown offices feeling anything other than cheerful.
With Savannah now on back-to-back nights, and my body still suffering the repercussions of yesterday, I’ve been in the office all day.
And after being torn a new one by Simone for not working fast enough, the rest of my time was spent at war with a blank document, struggling to pull together a rough outline for my feature.
Rough being the operative word. I could pretend it’s because my body is black and blue from playing with the hose, but the more accurate reason would be Savannah. All things Savannah.
Crossing the street, I sidestep the tourists dawdling around the art gallery and dodge the couple walking their tiny dog in a baby stroller. Seriously.
I continue this dance for the next five minutes, fighting the urge to knock down everyone in my way like I’m a human-sized bowling ball and they’re the pins.
Reaching the bar where I’m meeting Brad, I step off Granville and breathe a sigh of relief.
He chose well for today’s venting session.
The place is dark, busy enough to feel impersonal, and quiet enough that we won’t need to shout to be heard.
Which is a huge relief because my abs wouldn’t be able to handle it.
Brad’s already hunkered in a booth nursing a bottle of beer, a second frosted with condensation opposite. I slide onto the bench seat, biting my involuntary wince at having to fold like a pretzel.
“What’s the matter with you?”
Clearly I wasn’t successful at hiding my discomfort. “Nothing.”
A smile tugs at his mouth. He tries to disguise it by swigging his beer. “Sure. You’re not remotely in agony because you lost a wrestling match with a hose yesterday.”
“Fucking Brock. Is anything I do off limits with you two?”
Brad throws his head back as he laughs. “We’re all brothers, remember? Could argue we’re all on the same team.”
“Enough with the peacekeeper shit already.”
He boxes his smile away. “Seriously, how is it? Are you injured or just surface bruises?”
“Surface bruises. But they fucking hurt. And worse, I feel like a total dick.”
“You should. That could have gone very badly wrong, bro.”
I roll my eyes but I know he’s right. They’re all right.
Taking the lead was totally stupid. Easily one of the most childish things I’ve done in years. This whole experience in Eight. Brock. Savannah. It’s all proving too potent. Wreaking havoc and turning my brain to total mush.
I settle in my seat and pick up my beer, chugging half of it back in one go.
“Easy, tiger. Bruised and sinking beers? What else is going on?”
“Nothing.” I puff out a sigh. “Just work.”
He plays the waiting game again.
It doesn’t take long for me to crumble. “Simone hauled me into her office today. Went off at me because I didn’t even have an outline for my article.
Then she proceeded to share that my only competition for the promotion has also been given a feature to write.
Same deadline. There’s no way both will go to print, so if I can’t deliver, I’m screwed.
Spent the rest of the day being taunted by a blank fucking page. ”
“But this is what you’re good at. What’s the issue?” He blinks, a picture of innocence. Clearly, Brad already knows everything.
“Don’t. Brock’s obviously told you about Savannah.”
He raises an eyebrow. Looking annoyingly like Brock did when he caught Savannah and me yesterday.
“Savannah? Nope. Haven’t heard a word about her.
” He gives another playful smile. “Oh, hold on. Something’s coming back to me.
Uh…” He screws up his face. “It’s on the tip of my tongue.
Savannah. You. An absence of clothes. Caught red-handed getting it on in Eight’s laundry room. Am I warm?”
I resist my urge to fling my beer at his head by drinking the rest of it, waving the empty bottle at him instead. “If this is how it’s going to be, you’re buying. Another of these and something stronger on the side.”
Brad dutifully nods and disappears to the bar. I take the opportunity to check my messages. My heart does a little jump when I find four short texts from Savannah.
When are you coming back into the station?
We need to talk before then.
About what happened.
In the laundry room.
I typed out at least a hundred messages to her after Kendall unceremoniously sent me home, but I deleted them all, unable to find the right words.
Probably because of the whole mushy brain problem, leaving me lost between what I want to say and what I think I should be saying.
Putting me firmly back in rock-and-hard-place territory.
Sucking in a mouthful of the bar’s stale air, I shut my eyes and allow myself a moment of remembering the warmth of her pressed against my chest. The softness of her cheek damp with tears. Her damn tropical scent invading my pores and driving me fucking wild.
The slam of a glass banging to the table pulls me squarely from my fantasy.
Brad scoots back to his seat, locking eyes with me. “Come on then. Start talking.”
Sliding my phone away, I knock back the whisky chaser he delivered with the beer and then brace myself, meeting Brad’s gaze with my own iron focus. “I think I’m still in love with Savannah.”
Fair play, he does a sterling job of not just yelling out no shit, Sherlock.
In fact, you’d think I’d said something as straightforward as I still love chocolate cheesecake by the way he nods, light and easy, eyebrows all perky.
I frown. “Is that it? No questions?”
He pauses. “One or two. Does she feel the same way?”
Great. Right for the jugular seeking the million-dollar jackpot. “I don’t know. She just messaged. Says she wants to talk, so there’s that at least.”
“Sounds like you were doing more than just talking yesterday.”
“Nah.” I sag, shoulders caving. “Savannah got upset about something and I gave her a hug, that’s all. When Brock walked in, that’s what he saw.”
He frowns. “What about the part where you were naked?”
“I wasn’t naked. I was wearing my boxers.”
“What happened to the rest of your clothes?”
“In the damn dryer because they were soaked from my fight with the hose.”
“Ahh.” He nods, slowly, piecing together a puzzle. “So, what are you going to do?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
There we go.
I rub at my jaw. “The cap had a word before he sent me packing. He’s a good guy. Usually levelheaded. But I guess Brock ratted us out because, man, he was pissed. Wouldn’t shut up about the drama in Brock’s last fire hall and how my feature has to be squeaky clean.”
“So no extracurricular activities with Savannah in the apparatus bays?”
I blink through a rush of adrenaline, an image of Sav in my arms, caged against the side of the fire truck, my hands fisting her hair, her lips pressed hard to mine and her body hot and needy as I—
Fucking hell. Adjusting in my seat, I store the image somewhere safe to return to later. “Yeah. I’m basically being cockblocked by our brother’s fuck-up.”
Brad winces. “Sure, but a gentle reminder that you’ve also reconnected with Savannah thanks to our brother’s fuck-up.” He mimes speech marks around the “fuck-up.”
I sigh. “Look, Mr. Teamwork, seeing as you know everything about everything, can you just tell me what Brock actually did at Seventeen? Bully a crewmate? Break someone’s heart? Take advantage of a probie? It must be bad because Kendall’s spooked.”
“You have a very low opinion of our big brother.”
It’s a statement, not a question.
“Uh, yeah. He’s given me no reason to think he’s anything other than an ass.”
“Well, in this at least, you’re wrong.” He rests his elbows on the table. It’s a measured gesture. “Brock didn’t fuck anyone over. Or take advantage of someone. And the only heart that broke was his.”
I lean in, willing Brad to share more.
He sits back, sipping his beer. “But that’s all you’re getting from me. It’s his story to tell, not mine.”
“Fucking great. All my secrets are free entertainment for you two to laugh about, but when it comes to this, crickets.” I slump in my seat. Part of me wants to push, but there’s something resolute in Brad’s expression.
“There’s never any laughing at your expense, bro. Even Brock hasn’t been laughing.”
“Well, no, because Brock doesn’t laugh.”
He catches himself before he smiles. “No, because deep down, he cares. He just doesn’t know how to show—”
“Give me a break.”
“You know he struggles with handling emotion.”
I roll my eyes and focus on my beer bottle, tearing at the label.
“Be the bigger man and speak to him. Ask what went down at Seventeen. You might be surprised to hear what he has to say.”
“Fine.” I huff out a sigh. “Sometime. When this feature is done.”
Brad just stares at me. Even if I wasn’t a journalist attuned to reading nonverbal cues it would be obvious he’s questioning my decision to wait.
I shake my head. “I don’t need any more distractions right now. Everything else needs to be parked for me to focus on writing the best copy I can.”
“That include parking your feelings for Savannah?”
I curl my toes against the tops of my boots, knowing full well I have no idea how to park those. “I’ll also speak to her when I’m done.”
“Perfect. See the job through, then confess your undying love.”
I go to argue, but the words catch in my throat, a whisper of hope snaking its way in.
As if Brad can read my mind, he keeps pushing. “You should reply to her text at least. She wants to talk. Maybe she wants to confess her love for you too?”
My blood pumps faster. “Don’t say that.”
“Why? It’s true. Anything’s possible.”
I drop my head to my hands. “Dude, stop. Please. I haven’t done anything that would pass as decent reporting since I took this job on.
I’ve reverted to behaving like a five-year-old around Brock, and thanks to me, the woman I’m in love with nearly got written up for something that was no fault of her own.
I’ve already messed everything up here. Fixating on whether Savannah has feelings for me is only going to turn bad into disaster. ”
Brad reaches over, giving my shoulder a squeeze. “Let’s slow down, okay? Nothing here is actually fucked beyond repair. You’re going to focus on the article and trust that all this other stuff will work itself out when the time is right.”
He sits back, cradling his beer. “And for the record, I don’t tell Brock anything you share with me. You both spill your secrets but I’m a closed book. I’m just making it my mission to get you sharing your secrets with each other as well.”