Chapter 30
Maren
I’m fucking exhausted. Drained emotionally and physically. So tired I should have passed out before my head even hit the pillow.
Instead, I’m lying on a bed in one of Trevor’s spare rooms, staring at the ceiling.
I wonder if he’s still downstairs working. He left the office earlier than normal today because of me. Does he now have to stay up late to make up for it?
The possibility makes me feel sorta bad.
“Fucking hell.” I flip the covers off and swing my legs over the edge of the mattress. I swear, this man gets me out of bed more than he gets me into one.
Grabbing my favorite robe from the ornate brass fixture mounted to the back of the door, I stuff my arms into the sleeves as I exit and walk down the hall.
I pause to check on Zara as I go, ensuring she’s still sleeping soundly in her bed. It’s bizarre to see everything from her room in a different location, but it does seem like the familiarity of her own furniture has helped my sister feel less discombobulated by this sudden move.
She’s happily snoozing away, and I continue down the hall, stopping to confirm Trevor isn’t actually also asleep, before quietly making my way downstairs.
The first time I came to Trevor’s house, it felt like a museum.
Sterile and echo-y. A place meant for looking at, not for living.
But I must’ve just not been used to it, because already his home feels more comfortable.
Less intimidating. I no longer worry if I smudge a surface or bump a table.
The sofa actually felt cozy when I curled up on it after dinner, and the water pressure on the shower in my bathroom is freaking divine.
Staying here for a little while definitely won’t be a hardship.
There’s a soft glow coming from Trevor’s office, serving as a beacon for his location. I creep toward the doorway, listening for any sign of what he’s doing in there. Not because I’m being nosy. Just because I’m... Being nosy.
But it’s quiet. Nothing besides the tapping of the keyboard and the clicking of a mouse as I finally step into the open doorway.
Trevor looks up at me almost immediately. Like he was expecting me.
“Do you have cameras in here?” I remember how Titus watched Mariah move through his house, so I probably should have considered that as a possibility before now.
Trevor’s lips curve into a hint of a smile. “Yes, but they’re not on.”
So he wasn’t expecting me because he saw me closing in then. Could it be he wasn’t expecting, but maybe… hoping?
Trevor scoots back from the desk. “Come here.”
There’s something off in his tone. A softness that has me on edge.
I’m not the sort of girl people are usually gentle with.
I’m all sharp edges and biting teeth. It doesn’t matter how carefully you hold me, you’re probably still getting hurt.
So I’m understandably skittish as I round his desk, not quite knowing what’s coming.
As soon as I’m within reach, he tugs me onto his lap, pulling me close. Burying his nose in my hair like he did this morning, Trevor closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.
“What’s wrong?” Something has to be wrong. The only time I’ve ever seen Trevor act like this was when we discovered my laptop had been switched. “What happened?”
He takes another deep breath before slowly lifting his lids, meeting my gaze. “Your mother died.”
I’ve known those words were going to be said to me at some point. Probably sooner rather than later. I was expecting them to come from a social worker, or maybe even a police officer.
Never once did I expect to hear them in the quiet of a million dollar home, tucked safely in the arms of someone I trust.
“Oh.” I’m silent for a second. “Do you know when?”
“About six months ago. Heidi is sending her death certificate over tomorrow.”
I sit with the news for a minute, trying to decide how I feel about it. If I feel about it.
I don’t have love for my mother. Never have. She wasn’t someone I could trust or look up to. She was never a safe place for me or an ally I could count on.
I also always felt like if there was anyone in this world a person could trust, it should be their mother. And since I didn’t have that, there would never be—could never be—anyone I trusted. Anyone who was a safe place for me. Anyone I could count on.
I was wrong.
Trevor reaches up, stroking along my cheek with the back of his fingers. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Neither do I.” I look over his face, the concern and worry I see there making my chest tight because I know it’s for me. “Am I a bad person if I say I don’t really care?” I drop his gaze, studying my fingernails. “That I’m actually a little relieved?”
“Nothing could make you a bad person, Maren.” Trevor’s voice is soft but firm. “You are the best person I know.”
I snort, because no one has ever said anything like that about me before. “I’m sure there’s a long line of people who would aggressively disagree with you.”
“Probably.” His fingers move to my hair, gently working through the strands. “There are a lot of stupid people in this world.”
I roll my eyes. “They’re not stupid for thinking I’m a bitch.”
“People earn their treatment.” He traces a path down my arm, linking our fingers. “If someone thinks you’re a bitch, it’s probably because that’s the version of you they deserved to experience.”
“I just don’t have time for bullshit.” The sleepiness I couldn’t find a few minutes ago settles in, making me yawn. “So I don’t put up with it.”
“I know. It’s one of the things I like best about you.” Trevor’s dark eyes search my face. “Are you okay?”
I nod. “Yeah. I’m okay.” I rest my head on his shoulder, letting my eyes close. “Are you okay?”
“I didn’t know your mom.” He tucks me closer. “Which is probably a good thing.”
“I don’t mean are you okay about my mom dying.” I snuggle into his embrace. “I meant, are you okay since my mom being dead means the people who broke into my trailer definitely weren’t there because of her.”
Trevor rests his chin on top of my head. “No. I’m not okay.”
“I figured as much.” I yawn again. “Life really sucks sometimes, doesn’t it?”
A rumble of a laugh reverberates through his chest beneath my ear. “Yeah. It really fucking does.”
Another yawn sneaks free, and Trevor shifts in his seat. “Come on. Let’s get you into bed.”
I let him stand me up, then tug his hand. “You need to go to bed too. It’s late.”
I’m a little surprised when he lets me drag him along without a single word of protest. I know all about Trevor’s late nights and early mornings.
More than once, Ruth has lamented how he’s going to work himself into an early grave, and Brooke has talked about his brothers’ concerns over how he burns the candle at both ends.
But tonight, Trevor seems as exhausted as I am as I lead him up the steps, practically shoving him into his bedroom. “Good night.”
I hear him chuckle as I continue down the hall to the room where I’m staying. After shucking my robe, I climb under the covers, ready to find that comfy, cozy, drowsy feeling from just a few minutes ago when I was tucked on Trevor’s lap.
I wait for it to reappear.
I wait a little longer.
I make it another minute before I’m flipping off the covers again and huffing my way down the hall.
I walk straight into his room, not really shocked to find he’s lying in bed, stretched out with one arm tucked behind his head as he scrolls through emails on his phone.
His damp hair falls over one eye when his head turns my way.
“Are you okay?” He straightens, the covers dropping down to reveal the full expanse of his toned chest and stomach. “What’s wrong?”
“You are what’s wrong.” I practically stomp toward his bed, grabbing the covers. “Scoot over. We’re cuddling.”
A slow smile curves his lips as he practically throws his cell phone to the nightstand. “Yes, ma’am.”
I slide between the sheets as he flips off the light. The room is so dark, I’m pretty much blinded, and give out a little yelp as a strong arm encircles my waist and tugs me back against a solid wall of warmth. “I didn’t expect you to be a cuddler.”
“Shut up.” I wiggle closer, closing my eyes as the heat of his body soaks into mine, relaxing all my frayed nerves in seconds.
The sleep that has been eluding me finally arrives, dragging me under. But not before I’m able to confirm I was right.
Trevor Bradshaw does have the world’s most comfortable bed.
When I walk into work, Brooke is already in her office, looking put together and glamorous. Like she always does.
“Good morning.” I set my computer bag down on my desk, trying to look bitter and annoyed. Like I always do.
But it’s becoming more and more difficult to be my normal crabby self. Especially when I’m getting such good sleep every night.
In Trevor’s bed.
Three nights in, and I’m not sure he’s ever going to get me back out of it. The thing is ridiculous. Just as ridiculous as Trevor’s love of snuggling. I swear he stays attached to me the entire night. It’s smothering. Stifling. Makes it impossible to turn over or readjust.
I kinda like it.
“Good morning.” Brooke lifts her brows, cringing a little as she asks, “Think you’re ready for your first Bradshaw family dinner tonight?”
“Is anyone ever ready for their first Bradshaw family dinner?” I’m not sure one can prepare for that. “Luckily, I have Zara to keep everyone distracted, so I’m figuring it’s like I won’t even really be there.”
My sister is fucking great, but the thing I like best about her is that I can just trail behind her and she handles all social interactions for us.
Even at five, she’s an amazing conversationalist. Remembers everyone’s name, and most of what they tell her.
It’s pretty impressive. Some days I don’t even know my own name.
And I don’t generally listen to what people tell me.
Brooke gives me a tight smile. “Sure. Yeah. That might happen.”
I don’t like her reaction.
I already have too many things to worry about. I don’t need stress over the dinner I cannot get out of added to the pile.
I pull my computer from the bag, setting it up as Brooke perches on the end of my desk. “How are things going with you and Zara staying at Trevor’s?”
“Fine.” I try to keep my reaction in check, but the prickle of warmth spreading across my cheeks is a pretty good indication I’ve failed. “He’s got plenty of space, and I finally figured out how to work the microwave, so it’s been totally acceptable.”
Especially when he tries to put me through that miraculous mattress of his.
I fight the urge to fan my face, unable to look my friend in the eye as I continue finding things to adjust around my workspace.
“Good. I was really worried he would be a pain in the ass about other people invading his space.” Brooke smirks. “Especially considering how much Zara likes to be crafty.”
She does like to be crafty. So much so, the table in Trevor’s breakfast room is currently covered with a collection of jewelry making supplies, water-based paints, and her entire box of stamps.
Since we had to file paperwork and have a school-arranged background check done for Quinn before he can accompany her into the building, she’s been staying home from school, spending her days being babysat by America’s favorite mother.
And a mercenary.
“Ladies.”
I turn to find Walker striding toward us, a familiar woman at his side.
He gestures toward her. “This is Lindsey.” His hands swing our way. “Lindsey, this is Maren and Brooke.”
Lindsey gives me a megawatt smile, her curled blonde hair bouncing a little as she comes straight toward me. “We’ve actually met before. You were part of the interview process.”
Oh, I remember.
“It’s good to see you again.” I tamp down the ugly bite of jealousy already trying to rear its head as I shake her hand. There’s no reason to be jealous of this woman. Never has she indicated she has any actual interest in Trevor.
I was just concerned. Because why wouldn’t she have an interest in Trevor? He’s good looking, can be charming when he wants to be, has a great house, nice car.
And is very, very good at sex.
But I’m the one he’s sexing, and Trevor has made it very clear—on more than one occasion—that I’m the only one he’s sexing.
Which is good, since I now have a murder van.
“Lindsey is training to take over some of the responsibilities of running the warehouse.” Walker stuffs both hands into the pockets of his worn blue jeans, looking like he would rather be anywhere but here, talking to us. “She’s new in town, and I figured you guys could help her get acclimated.”
“Of course we can.” Brooke gives Lindsey a warm smile. “I know this place can be a lot when you first start, so if you have any questions, just ask. We’re happy to help.”
“Thank you so much.” Lindsey is still sporting her overly-wide smile, looking just as angelic and stunningly beautiful as she did the last time we met. “I’m really excited to get started. I think I’m going to learn a lot here.”
I force on a smile, doing my best to be nice. This poor chick has done nothing to earn my negativity, and it makes me feel a little guilty for everything I thought about her back when she was interviewing. “You’re always welcome to come have lunch with us.”
Her brows lift. “Really? That would be so great.”
I don’t know if great is the word I would use.
“Cool.” Walker backs away, his daily allotment of social interaction likely met.
Lindsey gives us a wave, the dimple in her cheek peeking out like it wants to say goodbye too. “Bye. It was great to meet you.” She points at me. “And great to see you again.”
Shit. She might be genuinely nice. I might be forced to end up liking her. In spite of all the excitement and positivity radiating off of her.
Walker pauses at the end of the hall, turning back. He must have found a few more words from his daily quota, and he uses them to remind me of what I’d finally put out of my mind.
“See you two tonight at family dinner.”