Chapter 25
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FIVE
Brooks
“What the hell is that sound?” Achilles asks, only able to hear, not see, the scene in my kitchen.
“That’s Otis.”
He stops screaming at the sound of his name. Thank God.
“I went out of town for a few days,” I say, “and my friend, Jasper, watched him. And Jasper—damn it.”
Otis sits on his ass in front of the fridge like a fluffy orange human and shrieks bloody murder. If I didn’t know better, I would be certain someone was being offed in this house.
“You’ll lose your voice before I open that door and give you food,” I mutter to him as I walk by so I can actually have a conversation. Once I’m in the hallway, I sigh. “Sorry, Achilles.”
“That’s all right. I’m invested. What was that?”
“My cat. He has no manners.” I wince as his shrieks somehow grow louder. “Jasper apparently created a hot dog-loving scream machine. I don’t even have hot dogs. They’re terrible for humans, let alone cats.”
“Sounds like a great friend.”
I snort. “He’s gonna need a little physical therapy, too, after I see him next.”
Achilles laughs. “So, how are things?”
“Fine. Shoulder feels good, and I have a pretty decent range of motion.” It didn’t make a peep while I turned Audrey Van inside fucking out the past few days. I had something else to say, but now that my brain has allowed Doc into its wavelengths, I’m cooked. “That’s it.”
“You said something about cancelling this weekend’s online workout?”
Fuck. That’s right. That’s the whole reason I called him in the first place. “Yeah. I gotta head to Vegas on Saturday for a few meetings. And something came up that will leave me unavailable most of tomorrow.”
Audrey doesn’t know we have plans, but I’m hoping when I see her in a little bit, she’ll understand that I need to make plans with her. My mind’s spinning with how true that is. She’s always on my mind. She just understands me. It’s crazy.
“You were a kid faced with a horrific and impossible situation, and you and your mom are heroes because of your courage.”
If I’m honest, I think I’ve already accepted that fact. I wasn’t too late. I saved my mom. I saved us. But when I think of not having met Audrey, having spent days with her, I see an unwelcome hole. But I was also serious—what do I have to offer her?
I can’t promise her the world, and I don’t know if she’ll be interested in dealing with my bullshit—especially with Drew—but if she’s up for it, so am I. No pun intended.
“Got it. I’ll send you a calendar invite for next Thursday. Sound good?” he asks.
“Perfect. See ya then.”
“Goodbye.”
I wander back into the kitchen, nearly tripping over Otis as he races laps around the room. Under the table, across the countertops, and onto the top of the fridge before he—unskillfully—leaps to the floor to close the circuit. At least he stopped screaming.
My body is being pulled across town. It’s as if someone implanted magnets in all my cells, and the counterpart magnet is in the center of Audrey’s torso.
I don’t know how to navigate this. I don’t know if this wears off, or if I’m just overwhelmed with bullshit and she’s a soft place to land …
or if I need her next to me as badly as I think I do. As I fear I do.
I thought I was stronger than this. I truly believed that I was impenetrable. Like clockwork, a woman wants to stay over, and my dick won’t get hard. Sorry. Guess we shouldn’t see each other anymore.
So why in the motherfucking hell do I want Audrey to stay over? Why did I almost drive to Gray’s cabin at three this morning just to sneak in and lie with her?
Why am I so damn afraid that I’ll hurt her—fail her?
I couldn’t live with myself if I fucked up someone else’s existence.
“Otis, please don’t break anything or swallow anything that’s not in your food bowl while I’m gone,” I say, grabbing my keys.
He’s stretched out on the counter—where he’s not supposed to be—and extends a paw as if waving goodbye. Or it could be a fuck you for leaving me again. I don’t really know. But, with the grace of a drunk raccoon, the rest of his body follows his paw and plops onto the floor.
“That’s it,” I say, heading to the front door. “I’m buying you a helmet.”
He screams in some kind of cat protest, I think, but I hustle out the door before he can chase me and run headfirst into the wall.
As soon as I lock up, my phone buzzes. Unknown number.
“Hello,” I say, walking down the walkway toward my truck.
“Well, hello, there,” a voice says. “How are you, Dempsey?”
I freeze in place with one hand on the steering wheel and half of my ass on the seat. A cold chill snakes down my spine, coiling around it in a menacing strangle.
“Who is this?”
“This is Andrew Van, motherfucker.”
Of course, it is.
I’ve wondered if he’d reach out. He always had to try to impose his will. It just never worked with me, but why would that stop him?
“Yeah,” I say, getting situated but not starting the truck. “I remember you. What the fuck do you want?”
His anger bleeds through the line before he even speaks again. It’s palpable—thick and fiery. And it always leads to trouble.
“I’m here with an ultimatum,” he says.
“You know what would be great?” My jaw tightens as my eyes land on an empty tea bottle Audrey left yesterday. “If you were standing in front of me while you said that. But, hey—bonus points for calling yourself instead of sending one of your errand boys.”
“How about fuck you?”
“Nah. Not really my thing.”
“Shut the hell up and listen,” he growls through the line. “You will stay away from my sister. Completely. Zero contact. You do that, and I’ll make sure you’re reinstated, and then you can pay for your mommy’s groceries.”
I wrap my fingers around the steering wheel and squeeze so hard that my knuckles turn white. Mom’s my Achilles heel, and the bastard knows it. Fuck that motherfucker.
“And, if you don’t,” he continues, smug now, “you’ll never fight in the NAFL again. I’ll make damn sure of that.”
There are a million things I want to say to this sonofabitch, but I don’t want to make it worse for Audrey. And it would make it worse for her. Drew would do it just to punish me. I have zero doubts about it.
“Oh, if you try to get cute,” he adds, thoroughly enjoying this, “I’ve got a guy willing to sign a notarized statement saying he’s been selling you performance-enhancing drugs for years.”
“Here’s an option,” I say, staring straight ahead. “Stop hiding behind red tape and dollar bills and fight me. Be a man. You’re supposed to be a fighter. Let’s settle this in the ring.”
“I’ll need your answer before we vote on Monday.”
“Why are you so pathetic?” I ask, seething. “I get it. You’re jealous of me. I would be, too. But keep it between us. Don’t involve your sister. That’s dirty, even for a piece of shit like you.”
“Tell her I called and say bye-bye to fighting ever again. I hope I made myself crystal clear.”
The line goes dead.