Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 102361 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 512(@200wpm)___ 409(@250wpm)___ 341(@300wpm)
What the fuck does she mean?
“Jules—”
She shakes her head, and I work to gentle my tone.
“Jules,” I try again. “There are other places for you to live. Hell, I have—”
“No,” she says, interrupting me. “I don’t need you to fix this for me.”
“Don’t be so fucking stubborn. You shouldn’t be living up here. Baby, it’s—”
“I’m not your baby. Not anymore. And I know exactly what this is, and I won’t be ashamed. I’ll fix it up. I can learn to finish walls and put in a decent sink. This isn’t for you to deal with, Brooks.”
My hands are in fists, and my breath is coming fast. I don’t want her here. But she’s right, she’s not mine. I can’t make her go with me.
“I have to get back to work. Dinner’s about to start, and we get busy at this time. My crew needs me. Thanks for the ride home.”
She won’t look me in the face again, and I want to crush her to me, demand she tell me everything that happened, and take her home with me where she’ll have everything she needs.
She’s not my problem.
It’s getting harder to believe that. Harder to walk away. To stay away.
Blinking quickly, as if she’s about to cry, she whispers, “Please, Brooks. Just go, okay?”
“I need your number so I can call you about the car.”
I tug my phone out of my jeans and pass it to her, and she texts herself, then passes it back to me.
“I’ll be in touch.”
She bites her lip and nods, and I leave her alone in that attic that isn’t good enough for her.
As soon as I arrive at my house, I call the tow truck to retrieve the car and deliver it to my garage, then I text Beck and Bridger. I’d call Blake, too, but he’s at the hospital today.
Me: I need some help with something. Are you free?
I pace my kitchen and tip my head to the side to crack my neck. Agitation builds in me as my phone pings with a response.
Bridger: I’m off today, just doing some yard work. What do you need?
Then a message from Beck comes in.
Beckett: Just finished at the barn. What’s up, B?
I grin and text them back.
Me: It seems Barry’s been ripping off Jules. Took her for thousands. We’re going to teach him a lesson.
Bridger: Uh, Brooks, I don’t want you to go to jail.
Me: No jail.
Beckett: I’ll pick you both up in twenty.
That gives me time to study the rest of the invoices and make notes.
Barry owes her a fuckton of money. And he’s going to pay her every dime.
When Beck pulls into the driveway, Bridger’s already with him, and I climb into the back seat.
“You don’t get to kill him,” Bridger says. He’s not joking. There’s nothing funny about this. “You’d break your niece’s heart if you got sent to prison.”
“As much as I’d like to, I’m just going to remind him that his piece-of-shit actions have consequences,” I reply.
“Skyla mentioned that Jules made a comment about her car at book club,” Beckett says.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
Both of my brothers send me a look.
“Because none of us is allowed to speak about her to you,” Bridger reminds me. “So we just keep everything we know to ourselves.”
“What else do you fucking know?” Yeah, I sound like a broody asshole, but I don’t care. They know things about my wildfire and haven’t told me?
What the fuck?
“Not much,” Beck admits with a shrug. “Skyla doesn’t tell other people’s secrets. She just mentioned the car thing to me.”
“Dani doesn’t say much either.” Bridger shakes his head. “The girls lock it down. They’re loyal to each other.”
I actually love that. I love that the girls trust each other and are not only best friends but also family. And I can admit that I like the fact that Jules is being welcomed into that friend group. Something tells me that she needs it, and I’ve been an asshole to resent it. But dammit, seeing her all the time is torture.
And an addiction.
Fuck.
We’re quiet until Beckett pulls into the parking lot and cuts the engine.
“What’s the plan?” Beck asks before we get out of the vehicle.
“I came with receipts.” I hold up the folder. “I think I’ll be extra nice.”
“Shit. Someone’s gonna call the cops,” Bridge mutters, making me grin. “We don’t have Chase Wild at our back in Silver Springs, Brooks. We don’t know the cops here.”
“I know Tucker’s brother, Easton,” I counter. “But trust me. We won’t need the cops.”
Probably.
The three of us walk into the garage. Barry works alone. He says it’s because he does better by himself, but it’s really because no one will work for him. He’s an asshole, he underpays, and he’s a complete piece-of-shit human.
The fact that my wildfire was anywhere near him makes my blood boil.