“Dad has someone in the conference room on eight he wants you to come meet.”
“Me?”
“Yeah.”
His brows furrowed, hands to his hips. “About what?”
“He’s looking to hire you some extra help for a part-time position next to Sandra. Is she here?”
He gaped at me like a fish. Opened and closed his mouth a handful of times before his brows rose on his forehead. “No. She’s already left for the weekend but let me make sure I’m clear on this. My assistant is getting an assistant?”
We hadn’t told him or anyone else of our plans. No one would argue with Dad anyway, but I didn’t blame him for being shocked. There was a reason for this, though. “Yup.”
“Since when?”
“Since Dad decided you work so damn slow you need more hands on deck.”
“Asshole,” he muttered. “Not Dad. You.”
“I know.” I shoved my hands into the pockets of my pants and rocked on my heels. “So are you coming?”
“To give an interview I wasn’t aware was happening for a position I didn’t know I was hiring for?”
“Yup.”
His eyes narrowed right before he tossed the phone to his desk and shrugged. “Sure. Why the fuck not. Interested to find out what Dad’s doing now, anyway.”
I directed him toward the stairwell for privacy’s sake this time and opened the door. “Interview is for a Lilly Huntington.”
I hopped up three steps to give myself some space.
Five, four, three, two… suddenly, I wasn’t running from Brandon anymore but was thrown backward, back to the cement wall with one strong forearm braced against my chest and the scent of Brandon’s BLT sandwich from lunch inches from my face.
I waved my hand in the air between us. “Jesus. Lay off the bacon.”
“Tell me it’s not.”
“It is.”
“She’s—”
“On parole.”
“And Dad’s…”
“It’s what Melissa wanted.”
His shoulders heaved, face turned purple. Right before I went to get him off me, he shoved me harder into the wall and stepped back, scrubbing his hands in his hair.
“You knew about this?”
I should have felt like an asshole for keeping this from him, but I couldn’t quite summon the emotion up. Brandon did better when he didn’t have to overthink things. And this was something that would have made him struggle. This way, he could meet her, decide he likes her, and move on. “For the last year, yeah, knew he wanted to help her.”
“This is fucked up.”
“Yup.”
“Shit.” He leaned forward and braced his hands on his knees. Breathing slowly, he tilted his head back. Pain. Memories. Hell, painful memories, etched into the lines on his forehead. “You both owe me some serious expensive fucking bourbon for not clueing me in on this earlier.”
“Dad thought it’d be easier if we kept it between us.”
“So what? She’s his new runaway project?”
“It worked for you.”
He closed his eyes then and stood. Dad found Brandon under a bridge at the age of thirteen years old and brought him home. After a call to the police station, several to family services, he was placed in our home after the cops arrested his parents. That wasn’t unusual but considering Brandon had been living on the streets for over a week and when the cops went to his house his mom was high as a kite and in possession of enough heroin to make a small country rich with drug money, he never saw her again.
She was still in Mitchellville Women’s Prison. On her third stint.
Clean, for all we knew, but Brandon had never gone to see her.
When he was sixteen and getting close to aging out of the system, Dad and Mom legally adopted him so he knew he’d always have people who loved him.
While we were always close, always best friends after several months of adjustment, it was Melissa who he was closest with.
“You are so damn lucky Jenna and I have dinner with her parents right after I leave here or otherwise, I’d be bloodying your face with my fist.”
I had no doubt. Brandon’s anger issues ran deep along with his fear of abandonment. A handful of others. Jenna soothed him in a way I never could. After he raged for months after Melissa’s death, it was Jenna who pulled him back.
“Come on.” I slapped his shoulder. “You have a new assistant to hire.”
“Seriously. This is messed up shit. She know anything?”
“Dad wants to tell her when the time is right.”
“When’s that?”
“Whenever he says.”
Brandon huffed. I lost my grin.
There was only so much I could do, so far I could push, before Lilly was sure to find out the truth.
We were destined to explode before we ever began.
I had every intention of riding this wave of borrowed time for as long as I could.
19
Lilly
Hudson returned minutes later and knocked on the doorframe before reentering the conference room.
“Brandon had to use the restroom. He’ll be here in a minute.”
This was happening. My palms went clammy and I pressed them to my thighs. I was sitting here. Interviewing for a job. All the nerves I’d tried to fight back all day bubbled and threatened to boil over.
“Okay,” I rasped, my throat parched. I reached for the bottle of water, but as I did, my hands shook. I shoved them back to my lap.
Across the table from me, David smiled at me in an understanding way. “There’s no need to be nervous. Brandon’s a good guy.”
Beyond David was a massive wall of windows, highlighting the Des Moines skyline and the bright shining sun. The peace of the view did nothing to quell the racing of my heart.
Hudson waited in the doorway, leaning against it like he was relaxed, but as soon as he glanced down the hall, he stood, back straight, hands to his hips. The easy look he had when he arrived vanished and hardened.
My pulse kicked it up another ten notches. At this point, I was at risk of a heart attack.
His demeanor changed so suddenly, I felt my own posture respond in response right before he stepped into the room and another man followed him.
“Lilly. This is Brandon.” He waved his hand out to the side.
Brandon walked in, similarly dressed as Hudson in dress pants and a golf shirt with two bold strips across his chest. Their clothing were the only similarities. Where Hudson was sharp lines and olive-skinned and jet-black hair, Brandon’s was side-swept and sandy brown, looking more surfer boy or Abercrombie model.
His dark, piercing blue eyes held me hostage, though. They were tight, along with his lips and the way he held himself said he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be here meeting me.
I glanced at David to see his own expression had gone weary.
“Lilly,” Brandon said, and came toward me with the grace of a panther and the friendliness of an alligator.
I stood, shoving back my chair so harshly in surprise I stumbled over it, almost falling into him.
A furious heat hit my cheeks as I stammered, “Hi. Sorry. Lilly… so nice to meet you.”