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Mr. Calbert sounded gruffer than usual. Was he going to yell at her for Jessie Kay’s absence or the plates Brook Lynn had broken or the orders she had screwed up—or all three? Yeah, probably that last one. The knots in her stomach tightened. But at least the new implants were doing their job, leveling out the noises around her while allowing her to distinguish certain nuances.
“On my way,” she called. She trudged into the break room to grab her purse from her locker.
Heart hammering, she entered Mr. Calbert’s office. He was in his midfifties with thinning hair, glasses as thick as her wrist and a build that suggested he enjoyed tasting the foods he served.
His office was small, crammed with file cabinets and a desk too big for the space. He was already seated, drumming his nails impatiently. When she eased into the chair across from him, he got straight to the point.
“Your sister was a no-show. Again.”
“I know. And I’m sorry.” When Brook Lynn had seen Jessie Kay this morning, she’d been hunched over a toilet, vomiting her guts out from too much to drink, her mascara running down her bright red cheeks.
You going to be okay for work? Brook Lynn had asked.
I’ll be there. Jeez! I’m not a total slag.
Mr. Calbert shuffled papers around, saying, “Why do you put up with that girl?”
Because Jessie Kay had done whatever was necessary to keep Brook Lynn fed after Uncle Kurt had taken off. Because she’d comforted Brook Lynn when they’d lost everything. Because her sister was all she had left.
“That has no bearing on our conversation,” she said, raising her chin.
“Actually, it has everything to do with our conversation.” He propped his elbows on the desk and rested his forehead in his palms. That did not bode well. “Look. I like you. I do. I think you’re a good girl with bad problems, and that’s what makes this so difficult, but this is a business, and it has to be done.”
Dread slithered through her, a boa with every intention of choking her out. She could guess where this was leading and vehemently shook her head. “Don’t do this, Mr. Calbert. Please. I need the money.”
He lifted his head, his hazel eyes bleak. “I’m sorry, Brook Lynn. I loved your parents. They were nice people, and I respected them, but I can’t rely on you anymore. You’re too tired to work as much as you do, but I can’t cut your hours because you always beg me for more. You break things—”
“I’ll pay for them.”
“—and you get a ton of orders wrong.”
“I apologized to everyone.”
“You put peanuts instead of croutons on Mr. Crawford’s salad, and he had an allergic reaction. I have to pay his medical bill and for his mental anguish!”
“Anyone could have made that mistake.” But okay, all right. Yes, her mind had been zapped by all the extra hours and tasks she’d taken on. “At least now Mr. Crawford knows his EpiPen is working properly,” she tried.
Mr. Calbert shook his head. “I need to be able to rely on my staff.”
“But—”
“I can’t rely on you or your sister. You and Jessie Kay are fired, Brook Lynn. Effective immediately.”
* * *
JASE HAD JUST finished off his third beer of the evening, knowing it wouldn’t be his last. He had seriously dark emotions to drown, and by hell, he was going to drown them. If he failed, he’d get in his car and head into town to see her.
The new bane of his existence, Miss Brook Lynn Dillon. He hadn’t been this obsessed with a woman since Daphne.
Daphne. Yeah. He’d think about her. Unlike Brook Lynn, the thought of her actually mellowed him.
He let his mind drift to the night he and Daphne had met. They’d both been sixteen, and while he’d earned money repairing and washing cars, she’d worked at a fast-food joint. He’d gone in for a burrito and had come out with her phone number. They’d spent the next two years together, inseparable, and had been saving to rent an apartment together.
She’d represented the future. Stability. And unlike most of the foster families he’d lived with, he’d wanted her to stick.
“Want a beer?” Beck asked West.
They were congregated in the game room, their sanctuary. Beck and Jase were playing pool, while West watched. Or, more accurately, thought about something; the guy had been lost in his head for the past half hour.
“No,” West finally replied, and Beck breathed a sigh of relief.
Jase observed the entire exchange with a frown. Beck had been testing West’s resolve to remain sober more and more lately, and he couldn’t figure out why. But then, the two had a history he knew nothing about. So many years’ worth of memories made without him.
He never had a problem convincing himself he was fine with it—until moments like this.
“You aren’t an alcoholic, West,” Jase pointed out.
“But I am a recovering drug addict,” West said. “Alcohol is my gateway.”
West had gotten high for the first time nine years ago, and he’d stayed high for the next three.
Dark eyes grim...haunted, his friend admitted, “I wasn’t even feeling the temptation...until recently.”
“What changed?” Jase asked.
“What else? The time of year.”
Lightbulb. The oncoming anniversary of Tessa’s death.
Tessa had been West’s first and only girlfriend. The two had met mere days after Jase first encountered West and Beck. She’d lived down the street, and while Jase and Beck had grown to love her like a sister, West...he had grown to love her intimately, desperately. The pair had been halves that depended on each other, rather than wholes that complemented each other, and West had never recovered from her loss.
I’m never going to end up like that.
Brook Lynn’s image drifted through his head, taunting him. He gripped the edge of the table, nearly snapping the wood.
Tessa had dropped out of high school her senior year to waitress full-time and help her mom pay bills. Later, though, she’d passed her GED exam. Her deadbeat mom hadn’t cared enough to celebrate, so West had promised to throw her a party. He’d toked up instead. She’d left the apartment they’d all shared with a sad smile, saying it didn’t matter. But afterward Beck confessed he’d seen her crying as she’d driven away.
That night, she’d crashed her car into a lamppost.
Sweet, beautiful Tessa had died at the age of nineteen.
“I get it. The anniversary of Tessa’s death is three months away,” Jase said. According to some of the tales Beck had told him, West spiraled more and more, drinking, flaking on clients, even picking fights. Soon after, he picked a woman, showered her with affection and gifts and ended things in exactly two months, as if he was willing to give happiness a shot because it was what Tessa would have wanted, but he didn’t feel he deserved more than a taste.
“Yes,” West responded, head bowed, “and I’ll be fine this time. I will. I’m not going to limit what you can do because of a weakness I have.”
“For a smart man, you can be really stupid.” Jase clasped him by the nape and stared him down. “We help each other. Every day. Every hour. Every minute. What makes you think I’d want anything to do with something that bothers you?”
“You’ve lost so much already.”
Yes. More than either man knew. Jase had shared only a few of the atrocities he’d suffered—and committed—during the years of their separation. He could barely stand to think of them. “So have you,” he said. “A scholarship to MIT, and soon after that, Tessa.”
Pain flashed in dark eyes that had already witnessed the worst the world had to offer.
“You’ve been clean six years,” Jase said. “During that time, you’ve created and sold different computer programs and games I won’t pretend to understand, and you’ve made us richer than we ever dreamed by investing the profits for us. Cut yourself some slack.”
“Put that way, I am pretty awesome,” West said, the barest hint of a smile revealed.
“Though only a close second to me,” Beck said, thumping his chest like a gorilla.
The doorbell rang before Jase could pop them both in the back of the head.
Everyone displayed different variations of dread.
“Bet it’s one of Beck’s women, coming to request seconds,” West said.
Beck lined up his shot. “Too bad. The candy store is currently closed.”
West snorted. “If only it stayed closed for maintenance. These women are upsetting my schedule.”
Jase had noticed West’s time-management and schedule-building skills had only gotten sharper over the years, though he’d done his best to relax and pretend he could roll with spontaneity. In reality, he’d always lived by a regime, preferring to have every minute planned.
Another round of ringing echoed from the walls.
“Don’t everyone rush to the door at once,” Jase said.
Beck peered at West. “Do me a solid and get rid of her.”
“Happy to, but you’ll owe me.” West strode from the room.
“Like that’s anything new,” Beck called. The amused vibe vanished in a blink. He tossed Jase a look rife with concern. “He’ll come through this, but it’s going to be hard. I’m glad you’re here. It’s been rough going it alone with him these past few years.”
“Whatever I can do to help, I’ll do.”
“Just keep reminding him that you’re here.” As Jase got in position to drill the eight ball into the far right pocket, Beck switched gears, starting a joke. “So, an angel walked into a den of iniquity.”
The word angel made him think of Brook Lynn again, and certain parts of his body began to ache for contact. Every day since he’d met her, he’d gone into town to give her that bill she was so determined to pay and to reimburse her for the implants he’d ruined.
If he were honest, settling their debt had little to do with his frequent trips.
He’d wanted to talk to her, to find out what it would take to break through all of her stubbornness and prickly anger and make her smile. To prove she wasn’t as beautiful as he remembered...or as soft and warm. But every time he’d seen her, he’d realized she was more beautiful—and probably softer and warmer.
She worked at a jewelry shop Monday through Saturday, and while there, she wore her pale hair in some kind of intricate knot on top of her head, thick locks at her temples tumbling down to frame her exquisite face and, he was sure, to cover her ears. She usually had a pair of magnifying glasses over her eyes and a small pair of needle-nose pliers in hand. Once, as she had helped a guy with grease stains on his hands and overalls, she had talked with her hands, laughing happily at whatever he’d said to her.
Jase had experienced a wave of anger he hadn’t understood then—and didn’t understand now—and had left before Brook Lynn could spot him.
But he’d gone back again and again.
Most evenings, she worked at Two Farms, and because she was usually the last to leave, she often had to walk to her car alone. Anyone could hide in the shadows, jump out and perform a grab-and-stab. Or worse. And okay, yes, she got points for carrying what looked to be pepper spray, but she lost even more for not paying attention to her surroundings. She was like a Disney princess, practically dancing and singing, “I’m so ready to be disarmed and mugged!”
Did she not realize even small towns had crime?
Case in point: he could be cited for stalking. Hence the multiple beers and his desperation to stay inside the house tonight. He would not risk a legal battle for anyone.
He sank the ball and smirked at Beck. “You going to tell me the rest of the joke?”
“Not a joke. A fact.” His friend motioned to the entrance with a tilt of his chin then wiggled his brows.
Jase looked, and yep, he had to agree. An angel had walked into a den of iniquity. Beside West stood Brook Lynn Dillon.
Hauntingly beautiful. And completely off-limits.
The urge to touch her, to hold her, bombarded him all over again, and he had to grit his teeth against it.
Feel nothing. Want nothing. Need nothing.
“Hey, Brook Lynn,” Beck called. “You’re looking mighty fine today—which can mean only one thing. You came to ask me out. Well, it’s your lucky day, pretty. I accept.”
Jase hit his friend in the arm and muttered, “Don’t flirt with her,” before he could think better of it.
Beck frowned at him. “Who was flirting? I was baring my soul.”
The conversation ceased to matter when he noticed Brook Lynn’s eyes were swollen and red, as if she’d been crying. There was a cut on her bottom lip, as if, in her despair, she’d chewed a little too hard.
He threw down his cue. If someone had hurt her—
His hands fisted at his sides as he closed the distance.
Her gaze landed on him and widened. Gulping, she stepped away from him. “Do you, uh, know where Jessie Kay is?”
Had he scared her?
“No,” he said, careful to moderate his tone. “I haven’t seen or spoken to her.”
Her shoulders slumped with defeat and, if he wasn’t mistaken, a big dose of fatigue. She worked far too much, couldn’t get much more than a few hours of sleep each night. While he admired her fortitude, rarely having seen anyone push themselves so fervently, he knew she couldn’t go on like that forever. Soon she would break down. If she hadn’t already.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “How are your ears?”
Chin trembling, she said, “They’re better. I can hear.” A second later, the trembling stopped, and determination darkened her eyes. Stubborn side engaged. “By the way, I never heard from you, so I didn’t know which of us needed to deduct the money. I just took a guess at how much I owed you.” She stretched out her hand. In her palm rested three crisp one hundred dollar bills.
He jolted back as if she’d just offered nuclear waste, wondering how long she’d had to save for so little. “Hell, no. That’s way too much.” A single penny was too much, he decided. “The lamp was ugly, so you did me a favor. I should probably pay you for getting rid of it. And the nightstand has a crack, nothing more. It’s no big deal.”
Brook Lynn breathed a sigh of relief as she stuffed the money in her purse. “If you’re sure...”
“I am. Now, how much do I owe you for the implants?” he asked.
She shifted from one foot to the other. “They...weren’t cheap.”
“That’s fine.”
