Wrecked Heart

by Cassie Wild

  “Go on,” Steph said, angling her head toward the brunette. “See what she wants.”

  I collected my plate of fish and chips from the window and turned around. I nodded to the woman and gestured to a table in the far corner where it was quiet. As she slid in to join me, I asked, “Do you want anything to eat?”

  “No. I’m fine.” She folded her hands in front of her.

  In the blink of an eye, I found myself the subject of an intense study, her eyes shrewd and thoughtful.

  “You want to tell me what this is about?” I asked warily, smoothing a napkin over my lap.

  She pursed her lips and drew them off to the side, that thoughtful expression still on her face. “I hear you pissed my brother Sean off this weekend.”

  Several seconds passed before those words actually made sense. Looking down, I studied the dish of food in front of me and selected a French fry. Popping it into my mouth, I chewed it slowly, then took a sip from my soda before looking back at her. “Your brother. The grouchy guy who came in looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.”

  “Yeah.” She cocked a brow. “I hear he tried to talk you into making it look like he’d attended three months worth of meetings. You told him no.”

  “Three months?” I selected another fry and dragged it through some ketchup. “I didn’t count. But, yes, he did ask me if I’d sign the whole sheet, and yes, I told him no. If that’s a problem….”

  She cut me off with a laugh. “No. Oh, no. It’s definitely not a problem.” She grinned, her eyes sparkling as she leaned forward, elbows braced on the edge of the table. “I mean, I get that he doesn’t want to be there, but he needs to be there.”

  Sadness flickered in her eyes, but it was banished quickly.

  I reached for my drink and took a sip. “You realize you can’t make him accept help.”

  “No. But I’m hoping if he’s in the right…environment, maybe he’ll open up, sooner or later. He’s not a hard man. At least, he wasn’t always. He needs to be around people who can understand what he’s going through.”

  “He isn’t going to open up easily.”

  She blew out a breath. “I know that. Okay, so.” She flashed a bright smile at me, and in it, I saw something that reminded me of her brother. A compulsive sort of charm, the kind that invited me to join in on the joke with her. “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

  “Okay…” I said slowly.

  She reached into her purse and pulled out an envelope. “I’ll be upfront because I don’t like it when people withhold information from me. I had a family friend do a background check on you.”

  I jerked reflexively. “You what?”

  “Sorry.” She winced, guilt dancing over her features. “I wouldn’t have done it if I didn’t think it was necessary.”

  “It wasn’t,” I said sharply. “There’s nothing about me you can’t find out by asking.”

  “Yeah, but…well, I needed to know what I was dealing with before I even considered asking. Otherwise, I was probably wasting my time.”

  Her cautious, soft tone had me sitting back in my seat. My food sat cooling in front of me. Irritated, I grabbed a fork and cut into the fish. Scooping up a bite, I shot her an irritated look. “Asking me what?”

  Instead of answering immediately, she opened the envelope and shuffled several pictures out onto the surface of the table. They fell out, face down. “You lost your parents earlier this year. There was a fire at the bookstore.” She lifted her gaze to mine and stared at me solemnly. “I’m sorry. I lost my mom when I was a kid. But I can’t imagine losing both my mom and my dad.”

  “Yeah.” The food I’d just managed to swallow sat in my belly like a lump, but I gamely made myself take another bite. It was going to be a long four hours before I clocked out, and I’d rather not work on an empty stomach.

  “Sean…he…” She blew out a soft breath and looked away. “He lost somebody earlier this year too. And he’s become…reckless. Dangerous. I’m worried about him.”

  She was serious. The truth was written on her features, obvious for anybody who looked at her.

  “I can try to keep talking to him at group…I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name.”

  “It’s Briar.” She offered a wry smile. “Sorry. I’m usually a little more focused than this.”

  “You’re worried about your brother.” I gripped my fork tighter so I couldn’t reach out to squeeze her hand. “It’s understandable.”

  “I am worried about him,” she admitted, pressing her fingertips to her temple. “And that’s why I want your help.”

  “Like I said, I can try to talk to him at group, but I can’t make him accept help. That’s up to him.”

  “I know.” She leaned forward. “We’re working on it. But for now…” She sucked in a breath, then blew it out, her lids drifting down. When she looked at me again, there was a certain, determined focus in her gaze. She continued to talk.

  Five seconds later, I half-choked on a bite of food. Sucking in a gulp of air, I grabbed my drink and chugged, clearing my throat. Once I felt like I could speak without sputtering, I blinked and focused on the face of the woman across from me.

  “Are you okay?” she asked.

  No, I thought instinctively.

  But that wasn’t what I said. Turning over the words she’d said to me before I’d almost gagged myself on some excellent fish and chips, I tried to figure out if maybe I’d misunderstood her, but I didn’t see how that was possible.

  “I’m sorry…but what did you just say?”

  Fifteen

  Tish

  My break ran over.

  Five minutes before it was up, I excused myself and got up to go talk to the shift supervisor.

  Since it was still slow, she agreed to give me an extra ten, and I returned to the table so Briar could continue talking. I kept waiting for the entire thing to make sense, but so far, it wasn’t happening.

  With five minutes left to go before I had to get back to work. “Look, I don’t understand why you think I’m supposed to keep an eye on him.”

  “It’s not that I think you’re supposed to. It’s that I think you’re equipped to…and I’m willing to pay you…very well. And you’ll have free room and board for the duration.”

  Frowning, I leaned back into the padded cushion of the booth. “I’ve already got an apartment.”

  “I’ve got a friend who specializes in helping people sublet their apartments. She can have it booked in a matter of days, and I’ll cover the rent until you’re set up.” She offered a smile. “C’mon, Tish. I mean, this looks like a decent job for a while, and you’re sweet and friendly, so you probably make good tips, but is this really making you happy?”

  She had a point. But… “I’m not sure how spying on your brother is supposed to make me happy.”

  “It’s not the spying.” Her smile faltered for a few seconds, then steadied. “I mean, well, yeah, there’s that, but I’m talking about helping my dad out with rebuilding his library too. There was so much destroyed by the fires after the explosion. And while you’re there, you can save all the funds and take your time to figure out what you really want to do.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth, a hesitant look flickering across her features once more. “I can’t imagine how hard the past year’s been for you, losing both your parents. I was never the same after I lost my mom, so I can’t imagine how you must feel. But are you really happy with what you’re doing?”

  I checked the time, then rubbed my head. “Look, I’ve got to get back to work. I can’t figure this out right now.”

  “I understand.” She passed a card across the table. “Think about it. Call me and let me know what you decide, or if you have questions.”

  Are you really happy with what you’re doing?

  That question was still sticking with me hours later.

  Damn it.

  Why did she have to go and ask that?

  Curled up on the couch, I sat tapping the
card against the padded arm. This was insane.

  I wasn’t really thinking about doing this, was I?

  “You can’t,” I told myself. “You shouldn’t.”

  The logical part of me seized on the shouldn’t part. It was the truth. I shouldn’t. We were in a support group together. We were supposed to be able to trust each other. Or at least be in the process of building a foundation where we could trust each other.

  Grabbing the phone, I punched in the number.

  “Hello?”

  “Briar Downing?”

  I swore I heard the woman smile. “Yes…is this Tish?”

  “Yes.” I dropped the card down on the couch next to me, trying to figure out the right way to approach this.

  She spoke before I could. “Please tell me you’ll take the job.”

  The beseeching tone of her voice crumbled something inside me, and I tried to gather my wits. “I’m not sure how I can. Look, we’re in group together. This…it just doesn’t feel right.”

  “There are a lot of things in this world that aren’t right,” she said, her voice hollow. “Your parents dying like they did. Sean…” Her voice cracked, but she rallied quickly. “About Sean, that’s not my story to tell. But Sean lost somebody too. He’s grieving, and he’s not handling it well. He’s going to do something stupid that gets him hurt if he’s not careful.”

  “Maybe that’s another reason why I’m not the right person for this,” I hedged. “I don’t want that on my conscience.”

  “You don’t understand. Something about you got through to him. Maybe it’s just because you’re both hurting on the same basic level, Tish. I don’t know.” She huffed out a harsh breath. “He’s been numb. For months. Then he started bitching about you, and it was the first real reaction I’ve seen from him in so long, and not just something that was driven by rage or this grief he’s suppressing. It’s not…” She blew out a breath. “I’ll be honest. I’m not just asking you to keep an eye on him. I want you around him because you cracked that shield of his—and you stood up to him. Sean needs that kind of person around him.”

  Groaning, I dragged my hand down my face. There was a part of me that understood, not just what Briar was saying. I’d gone through that numb phase myself and had only started to emerge from it over the past couple of months. “Is he still in denial?”

  “Denial?” She laughed bitterly. “In a way, yes. He’s not dealing with what happened. At all. He’s got himself locked down so tight, and any time he even starts to grieve, he grabs a bottle or pops a few pills. He doesn’t let himself sleep without one or both because of nightmares…”

  The misery in her voice tore at me.

  “Will you at least give it a try?” she asked in a small, soft voice. “Give it a week or two. If it seems like it’s not working out or if you don’t feel right, then I’ll pay you for the entire month. I’ve got an idea of what you make at your job if you work full time, and I’ll triple it. Plus, I’ll take care of the arrangements on your apartment, as promised. What do you have to lose?”

  I hated that the question was completely and utterly rational.

  And once more, that question from earlier. Are you happy…

  No. No, I wasn’t.

  “Tish—”

  Fisting my hand to my forehead, I said, “Let me think.”

  She fell quiet.

  There had been an idea I’d been playing with, an idea I’d barely let myself consider because the risk was too great right now, unless I was willing to take a huge gamble—and I wasn’t big on doing things like that. It went against that cautious nature of mine.

  This would make it less of a risk. Even if it only lasted a couple of months. One month would give me a cushion. I had the money from the insurance settlement, yes, but I’d already used some of it to cover the cost of loans that my scholarships hadn’t covered. I didn’t have to touch that money right now, but I also couldn’t afford to save much either.

  If I took this job…

  Hell.

  “Okay,” I said softly. “I’ll do it.”

  Sixteen

  Sean

  She was giving me that look again.

  It was enough to piss me off.

  Tish sat on the bed, her pretty, dark-blue eyes grave and sad as she studied me, her eyes holding a mix of compassion and pity. I was torn between wanting to hide or do something to chase the look off her face.

  At the same time, I didn’t mind seeing her there.

  I was dreaming. It was the only thing that explained why she was here, because when I’d finally crashed down onto the bed, face-first and fully dressed, I’d been alone.

  I’d also been stone-cold sober and not overly happy with the fact. But I’d run out of booze the day before and hadn’t had the energy to drag myself out of the house to go buy more.

  There’d been a time when I would have just made a call to one of the people who worked in the building, but that no longer worked. Either my father or my brothers had likely bribed them into not helping. Even if I offered several hundred in cash, they’d politely refuse, claiming job guidelines prevented it. Funny, it hadn’t stopped them before. I’d bet my right nut that money from either Dad or Brooks had helped them find their ‘conscience.’

  “They do it because they care about you,” Tish said.

  Groaning, I rolled onto my back. “If I’m going to dream about you, can’t it at least be fun dreams? You giving me a blow job? Or bent over my lap so I can spank you? That actually sounds fun.” I lifted my head and studied her. “Want to try it?”

  “No.” She blushed.

  No idea why my subconscious would have her blushing, but it did, the color starting low, below the neckline of the white and black striped shirt she wore—her work uniform—and rising upward. I sat up and considered reaching over to undo the buttons on her shirt, just to see what else my imagination would fill in for me.

  “You don’t want sex right now,” she said.

  “I always want sex.”

  “Liar.” She rolled her eyes. “Half the time, you just want to forget. That’s why you drink so much, why you started doing drugs when you never did much of anything but smoke some pot in college. You’ve seen what it can do to people, and you didn’t want to go down that road. Now you just don’t care.”

  “For somebody who doesn’t want sex, I sure as hell spent a lot of time fucking.”

  “That’s about forgetting.” She drew her knees up and hooked her arms around them. “But it doesn’t last, does it?”

  Even in my dream, the smile felt forced. “I’m good, sweetheart, but even I can’t keep from coming for forever.”

  “You’re not fooling me.” She shook her head. “You’re not fooling yourself.”

  “I’m dreaming,” I pointed out. “You are nothing more than a figment, so you are me.”

  “My point exactly.”

  A hard, heavy knock had me jerking awake.

  It echoed through the quiet expanse of the condo, and I sat up, looking around.

  Since I’d spent the previous day mostly sober and drinking a ton of water to try and stave off the headache that had been teasing me, my head even felt somewhat clear.

  Shoving upright, I looked around, confused.

  The knock came again.

  With a grunt, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and looked around. I gaped at the time on the clock. Eleven. How the hell did that happen? I never slept more than a few hours at a time anymore, and I’d gone to bed just after two.

  “Mr. Downing?”

  The muffled voice was proceeded by another knock, this one thunderously loud. Swearing, I got up and looked around, swiping my phone from the nightstand as I passed it. The battery was down to eight percent. A few messages from my family from yesterday—all unanswered—and several calls. One from this morning—Cedric. Nothing else.

  And that wasn’t Cedric banging on the door.

  Surprisingly clear headed, I didn’t even growl when I op
ened the door. The man on the other side looked familiar, although I couldn’t place him immediately.

  “Mr. Downing.” He smoothed a hand down the lapels of his suit jacket, drawing attention to the name tag affixed on the right.

  Davis Litchfield.

  Management.

  Memory kicked in. He was with the building. He gave me a quick flash of a smile, that salesman smile. I recognized it because I’d flashed that sort of smile myself back when I was still trying to work for my dad and make things happen down in Miami.

  He wanted something.

  There were fine lines fanning out from his eyes. I didn’t recall seeing those lines the last time I saw him—he had smooth, dark skin and that appearance of youth, although he could have been anywhere from thirty to fifty.

  Okay, so he wanted something, and he was stressed.

  “What’s the problem, Davis?” I asked, already wishing I’d stayed in bed.

  He smoothed his lapels down, and that smile fired up a notch or two more. “Mr. Downing, I’m really sorry about this, and I know it’s going to come as an inconvenience, but an inspection revealed some electrical issues affecting this floor that will have to be repaired immediately for the safety of all tenants.”

  “Okay.” I glanced out into the hall, then back behind me. “I guess some crews will need access?”

  “It’s a bit more severe than that. There will be ongoing repairs that will be taking place over the next three to four weeks, both in and out of your unit that will be quite…intensive.” He paused, studying me.

  “Okay…” Drawing it out, I stared at him. “So, what’s the point here?”

  “I’m afraid I’ll need you to leave your condo temporarily.” The pained look on his face might have been comical.

  Might have been.

  Except the last fucking thing I wanted to do was leave my damn condo.

  “What do you mean I have to leave my condo?” I said on a growl. “This is my fucking home.”