Chapter 6
CHAPTER 6
I t wasn’t like Cora to not call or text that she would be late. But blowing him off was entirely out of character for her, and it made Brandon concerned when she didn’t pick up the phone when he called.
He texted her, hoping she had maybe just missed his call. But no luck there either. It was so unusual for Cora that he left the restaurant and headed to her apartment to check on her. A single woman living alone in Boston could be an easy target. Cora would probably smack him for saying that, but he knew the devil could disguise himself in a suit.
Also, she lived alone, and she could have fallen or worse. She lived close enough to the restaurant that he could pop over and make sure everything was alright.
He buzzed the door, hoping she’d say she had forgotten the meeting she’d set up last night. But no one picked up. He tried calling her again. Nothing. He decided to text.
Just making sure you’re okay. You missed our meeting.
“Brandon?” Cora asked over the intercom.
“Cora, it’s me,” he said, feeling self-conscious about showing up at her doorstep. “I wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
There was a long pause. “Yes, I’m so sorry. Let me come down.”
By habit, he went to open the door when he realized she hadn’t buzzed him up. He had been invited into Cora’s apartment plenty of times. The nights they’d hung out after work or when he’d walk her back to her place after late shifts.
What he liked most about Cora was that she was up for almost anything, anytime—kayaking down the Charles, hitting a basketball game at the TD Garden, or just sipping a coffee in Quincy Market, watching people.
“Hey,” she said as she opened the door and stepped outside. She wrapped her arms against her stomach, holding her elbows. The fall day had a chill to it. “I’m so sorry about last night.”
“And right now, our meeting.” He looked at his watch. “I was worried and tried calling.”
“I know. I’m sorry, but something important came up,” she said, giving no further details.
“So important you left in the middle of your shift?” After making out with some guy? He wanted to slip that in there, but it would be crossing a delicate line he was already teetering by showing up at her residence. He didn’t want to think about Cora kissing that jerk.
“I’m sorry about that, too.” She bit her bottom lip, scrunching her forehead. “I understand if you need to let me go.”
Brandon noticed a face peering down from the second-floor window. Julian Abbott stood in that same dang suit.
He had some choice words about Lover Boy on his tongue, but thankfully, he had enough restraint to keep them to himself.
“I don’t know what’s going on with you, Cora, but that guy up there is not worth losing your job over.” He looked back up and saw that Julian had disappeared.
“Look, I’m sorry about last night and this morning,” she said but was interrupted by Julian walking out of the building.
“She was helping me,” he said, looking no better than he did at the restaurant.
“So, you found her,” Brandon remarked, watching Julian. He didn’t trust this guy.
Julian walked past both of them and onto the street.
“I’ll see you later, Cora.”
“Julian, don’t go,” she said. “I want to help.”
“Helping him seems to cause you to lose your perspective, Cora.” The minute Brandon said it, he regretted it.
She narrowed her eyes at him and scowled. Yes, he and Cora had become friends. He might even say close friends. So, he should’ve known, being such good friends with Cora, that she didn’t appreciate unsolicited advice.
“Julian.” She called out as he walked away toward a car. “Don’t go back to your apartment. You shouldn’t go back there.”
“Brandon can help!” Cora yelled out to Julian. “He knows what you’re going through.”
“What?” Brandon said to her, but when Julian turned around, Brandon didn’t see the smug guy who’d come into the restaurant with a woman hanging on his arm or the hungover one from that morning, but a completely broken man. He thought back to the smell of day-old alcohol on his breath. There was fear in his eyes when he asked if he’d seen Cora. That’s when Brandon recognized the situation. He had seen those kinds of eyes before—in the mirror.
“Help with what?” Brandon asked, but he knew and was buying time to come up with an answer that wouldn’t disappoint Cora because there was no way in H, E, double hockey sticks he was going to help this guy.
“Julian’s in a bad place,” she exclaimed, eyes on Julian.
“Cora.” Julian’s voice was sharp, and Brandon understood what was going on.
Brandon didn’t often share his journey to sobriety, but he had discussed it with Cora.
“Have you tried to get clean before?” Brandon asked Julian.
“I’m not a junkie, okay?” Julian’s eyes flashed with anger, but Brandon could see the usual tics of an addict radiating out of him—the jerky movements, the shifting eyes, the scratching and jaw grinding.
Brandon could see Cora was in way over her head. “There’s a meeting somewhere right now we can get you to.”
“We?” Julian’s demeanor shifted back to the jerk from earlier, who had left without paying his check. “I’m not going to some meeting so someone can sell details about my life to Page Six.”
“Then let’s get you somewhere where people don’t care who you are,” Brandon said.
“You should go to your grandfather’s place in Blueberry Bay,” she said.
Julian shook his head. “Look, I just wanted to apologize. I’ll be fine.”
Julian looked back and forth between Cora and Brandon. “Is he the guy you’re dating?” Julian asked Cora, completely ignoring Brandon.
There it was again. The guy. Who else was Cora involved with?
Cora looked at Brandon. “You shouldn’t pass up an offer for help. Brandon understands this kind of problem.”
Addiction, he wanted to say out loud. Not a problem, but a disease.
For good reason, Brandon didn’t bring up his past with too many people. Some people didn’t understand what he went through to get clean—even fellow alcoholics.
“We’ve all been in bad places, and sometimes we just need help to get out of them.” Whether Brandon thought this guy was a tool or not, he didn’t wish what he was going through on anyone.
Julian groaned and didn’t move, but when Brandon thought he was about to leave, he turned around and walked through the door to Cora’s apartment building.
Cora didn’t move when Julian walked inside, letting him go alone, and faced Brandon. “I can take it from here. I know this might be a lot for you.”
It would be a lot, and that truth hurt because he wasn’t good at helping people; he just happened to be a recovering alcoholic.
He should leave. Tell her to call him if she wanted to pick up any extra shifts and go. It would be the best decision he made all day. But apparently, he wasn’t in the mood to make good decisions.
“Has he seen a doctor?” he asked. “He could get his insurance to cover rehab. It’s very discreet.”
She nodded. “He’s worried he’ll ruin my sister’s wedding.” She sighed. “And honestly, if that were to come out, him in rehab, news reporters would flood the wedding trying to take a shot of Julian home from rehab, and it would ruin the wedding.”
Julian stood in the lobby of her apartment building, waiting. The small hall could barely fit three people sort of like this situation. A third person would create complications for everyone.
“Is this a guy you like?” he asked, hoping the truth wasn’t as obvious as it looked.
She shook her head. “No, it’s not like that.”
But the secret kiss last night at the restaurant had made it very much like that in his mind.
She looked at her watch. “I know I’m causing more of a mess for you, but he needs my help. I have to help him.”
“How are you going to help?” He wasn’t sure she understood the situation. Helping an addict wasn’t for the weak. “No offense, Cora, but if he needs help with a serious addiction, he should seek professional help.”
“I know that,” she said, looking back at the lobby and Julian. “But he won’t go because of the press.”
Brandon scoffed at that.
“He does have to worry.” Her tone had a bite to it, which surprised Brandon. “His family’s always in the news for something; if someone wanted to sell a story, people would pay for it. The fact he even said something to you tells me he needs my help.”
She turned on her heel toward the direction of the apartment, leaving Brandon. He could listen to what she’d said. Leave her be, go back to his day, forget the whole thing had happened.
He looked at his watch. He technically had nowhere to go. “Let me help,” he said, walking into the lobby where Cora and Julian stood. “And I’ll be very discreet.”
Julian rolled his eyes. “I’m good.” But Julian’s bloodshot eyes looked doubtful. “Who is this guy, Cora?”
Cora put her hand on Brandon’s arm. “Are you sure?”
He nodded though everything inside him told him to run. “I’m happy to help.”
She then turned to Julian. “You can trust him. He’s been through this before.”