The Barrett Brothers Collection

by K B Cinder

  By nine-thirty, I cut the call short, heading out to the sales floor to stretch my legs.

  Okay, maybe I wanted to peek at Elena, too.

  I was excited to see her, more than ready to get it over with and let it all out. She’d likely be disgusted, shocked, and maybe even heartbroken, but I knew she felt our bond the same way I did. She looked at me with admiration and respect, two things I always longed for in a partner. Sure, the truth would strip away a little of both, but in time she’d understand. If there was anything Elena was, it was compassionate. It was a lot to dump on her, but she could handle it. I felt it in my bones.

  As I strolled in, it surprised me to see both Elena and Lee’s stations empty. Weirder, both sets of monitors were off. It was too early for lunch, but they could have been grabbing a coffee together.

  She only mentioned playing hooky for one day. Two wasn't like her.

  I headed to Marty’s office, stuffing my hands into my pockets. We avoided one another leading up to the trip, but I needed an update on the projects I’d assigned him while out of town.

  He wasn’t worth much, but he could at least handle the oddball tasks that didn’t require too many brain cells. Best of all, they were all things he couldn’t fuck up.

  The office was quiet, though a few whispers escaped here and there as I walked through, employees not even trying to hide that they were looking my way. When Elena said the place had a gossip problem, she wasn’t kidding. It felt more like a high school than a multi-million dollar business.

  As usual, Monica was chatting loudly on her cell, but I didn’t feel like bothering with her. I had more than enough to toss her. Marty was the one that would do it, though.

  The offices in the salesroom were more exposed than mine, small windows punched out to keep tabs on the sales floor. It also made peering in easy, and I caught Marty playing games on his phone dozens of times. It was petty, but nothing made me happier than tapping on the glass to watch him jump.

  This time he was leaning in his chair, back to the window as he faced a calendar. Hoping to catch him in the act again, I rapped my knuckles on the door and waited, the nervous man waving me in through the window beside it.

  I entered to find him hanging up his desk phone, sweating profusely, the usual caffeine tremors in full swing. Shockingly, no cell phone was in sight.

  “Everything good, bud?” I asked, worried I’d have to call an ambulance one day if he kept up the coffee guzzling.

  He grabbed a tissue and dabbed at his face, the flimsy material instantly soaked through. He grabbed another and another, tapping away to no avail. At a glance, you’d think we were standing in a sauna.

  “No...” he trailed, red-faced. “Elena Julian is in the hospital.”

  “Excuse me?” I asked, positive I misheard him.

  He had to have his names mixed up. Elena was fine. She was probably making what she called a cup of coffee–too much sugar and a splash of cream.

  “Elena. She was injured in a fall.”

  She hadn’t answered me.

  Did she twist her ankle? Break a foot? She loved those damn heels. They were definitely sexy but also a death trap. I’d burn them all if I could, especially if they’d hurt her.

  “Is she okay?” I asked, frozen in the doorway.

  Why didn’t she tell me? Even if she couldn’t call, she could have at least texted.

  “She has a head injury. That was Lee letting me know.”

  My vision tunneled in and out, forcing me to steady myself against the doorjamb.

  A head injury? Like a concussion? A cut? Images of bashed skulls flashed through my mind, Elena’s beautiful hair matted with blood.

  “Holy shit,” I murmured, heart pounding. “What happened?”

  If she fell in heels, they were definitely going in the trash.

  “No clue,” he said, shaking his head. “That poor thing. She can’t catch a break.”

  I swallowed hard, trying to maintain my cool. “Keep me posted.”

  “What can I help you with?” he asked, switching subjects.

  “I was just coming to let you know I’m heading out for the day,” I lied. “I have an appointment.”

  “Okay,” he breathed. “She won’t be in the rest of the week, at least, I’m sure, so I’m working on a schedule that suits Monica.”

  “She can pick up the weight for someone else for a change,” I shot back. “If you have any problems, call me. I’ll handle it.”

  I fled his office, pulling my personal cell from my back pocket.

  Where are you????

  I shot off the text and hurried to grab my keys from my desk.

  Lee or not, I was going to her wherever she was. I’d play it off as a concerned boss. An asshole boss. Anything.

  Elena: On my way home.

  Why???

  Was she fucking insane? If she was driving, I’d lose it.

  Elena: Because I live there? Lee’s taking me.

  Are you staying at her place?

  Elena: No.

  Marty said you have a head injury. You shouldn’t be alone.

  I’d seen a concussion or two in my day. Afterward, seizures were always a concern.

  Elena: Stop being a worrywart.

  She was insane. Beautiful, but hard-headed and fucking insane.

  I’m on my way.

  Elena: Lee is with me!

  I don’t care.

  Elena: Please don’t. I’m fine. I’ll text you later.

  I ignored her pleas, plopping my phone in my pocket and racing to my car.

  I should have known something was wrong when she didn’t answer. How could I be so stupid? I should have gone to check on her. Instead, I went to bed disappointed but otherwise content. True to form, I was only concerned with myself.

  The drive to her apartment wasn’t long, but I swore I hit every fucking red light on the way. My chest burned, guilt eating away. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. I had a responsibility to keep her safe. I protected my own. Fiercely and without apology.

  When I pulled into the lot, I spied Lee’s SUV, her identifying stick-figure family of middle fingers displayed on the rear window. I eased into a spot on the opposite side of the lot. I played it cool, waiting it out, watching the rearview mirror for any signs of life.

  An old man was walking a dachshund, and a woman was speed-walking in head-to-toe spandex, but other than that, her complex was quiet as usual. She was the youngest resident by far, most renters well over seventy. I had no clue why she lived there unless she was under a time crunch to move after the wedding debacle.

  As soon as I could scrape up a decent excuse, I’d head to her unit, but until then, I was glued in place. I didn’t have a valid reason to show up, and Lee would know something was off. The concerned boss card wouldn’t stand up. I could kiss Chicago goodbye, and we’d both say hello to unemployment. We’d be fucked, all because I threw good judgment to the wind.

  My phone buzzed, startling me.

  Elena: Lee is running to the pharmacy so I can text interrupted. I’ll be fine. It’s nothing. Just a little cut.

  On cue, I spied Lee spilling out of the door that led to the stairwell. She hurried to her vehicle, face stretched in worry, her red locks untamed thanks to the emergency. The chick had heart. Not every friend would drop everything to help you out in a time of need.

  It’s serious. Head injuries are no joke.

  Elena: I’ll be fine. I’ll see you tomorrow at work.

  Like hell. There was no way she was cleared to go back to work, let alone drive.

  I’m signing you out for the week.

  I didn’t have the authority to do it, but I’d keep her home. The brain was nothing to fuck with, and it needed time to heal whether you thought you were fine or not.

  Elena: You’re overreacting.

  I counted to thirty after Lee pulled out before exiting the Rover, not wanting to risk her turning back to see me. I couldn’t stay, but I could at least
see Elena to put my mind at ease.

  The staircase reeked of disinfectant, the typically cruddy treads cleaned to perfection. My stomach dropped at the smell, and I took the stairs two at a time, rushing down the hall to her unit. The scent followed - a mix of hospital, morgue, and hotel laundry. I held my breath as I knocked, trying to block it out.

  Elena: Seriously? Is that you?

  Maybe.

  A moment later, the door opened, Elena appearing in fleece pants and a tank top, stitches marring her left temple, arms peppered with vicious purple welts.

  I pulled her into a hug, crushing her to me.

  “Hey! Easy!” she reminded, hands pushing against my chest. “Fragile! Fragile!”

  “I’m sorry!” I loosened my arms, staring down at her.. “Why didn’t you call me?” I demanded.

  It was far more than a little cut. There had to be at least ten stitches in the sucker, stretching from above her brow to her hairline, the usual flowing mane secured with a hair clip to keep the strands from the wound.

  She pointed at the sealed gash in her flesh. “I was a little busy.”

  I stepped around into the apartment, spying a nest of blankets on the sofa, a pizza box and several beer bottles littering the coffee table. That many beers would have left someone her size toasted. Why was she drinking like that on a weeknight?

  “Were you drunk when you fell?” I asked, shocked.

  Images of the incubator’s corpse came flying back, her hair matted with blood from the fatal fall, her skull broken. That could have been Elena. She could have met the same fate.

  “Calm down, I had three beers,” she grumbled. “Hours before I fell. I tripped over my own feet.”

  I let out a breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding. “Where did you fall?”

  “Down the stairs on the way in. I was chasing Hank.”

  That meant she bled all over where I just barreled through, the detergent used to wash away her blood. “Stupid cat,” I muttered. “Where is that furball, anyway?”

  The fuzzy monster was usually on the armchair when I dropped her off. He must have figured out he was in the doghouse and hid somewhere.

  “I don’t know,” she replied, biting her lip. “He got out, and no one can find him.”

  Her eyes welled with tears, and I pulled her in another hug, kissing her hair. “It’ll be okay. I’ll find him.” I had no clue how, but I knew at that moment I would. I’d spend all day and night combing the streets for the bushy-tailed brat if I had to.

  As I held her close, I spotted a huge arrangement of roses on her kitchen counter. Huge didn’t do it justice, either. The thing was fucking massive, several dozen long-stemmed flowers tucked in a gold vase.

  “That was nice of your dad to send flowers,” I noted, smiling down at her. “They’re beautiful.”

  Her brows snapped together, and she hissed in pain at the motion, touching her temple gingerly. “What? You didn’t send those?”

  Excuse the fuck out of me? A spark of anger flicked to life.

  I released my hold on her and strolled over, plucking the card from the display. It was heavy card stock, her name written within a heart. Without asking, I opened the envelope to reveal a message from the sender.

  My Beautiful Laney, You will always be the love of my life. I’m so grateful for our time together. Forever and always, Justin.

  “What is this, Laney?” I asked, waving the card.

  “I figured you sent them,” she trailed, stepping over and grabbing the card, reading the note and paling. “What the hell...”

  “Save it,” I muttered.

  If she wanted that polo-wearing douche, she was all his. I didn’t play games. I made myself look like a fool, pining after her like a sick puppy, ready to come back and jump headfirst into things. Fuck that.

  I should have taken the time to fuck anything with a pulse rather than wasting it lusting after someone that fucked a guy with a goatee and khakis.

  Her brows snapped together, the stitches puckering. “Jason, I haven’t seen him since the day at the store!”

  “Was that before or after you fucked him?” I shot back. “How many times did you fuck him while you were fucking me?”

  She fucking played me. I couldn’t believe it. I trusted her, dammit. She was supposed to be different. I thought she wasn’t anything like Bianca, but she was in the worst way.

  She tossed the card to the counter, staring at me as if I was the asshole. “What are you talking about?”

  “I told you, I don’t fuck women that fuck other guys. I don’t want my dick turning green.”

  “I’m not sleeping with anyone else!” she snapped. “Are you insane?”

  “Then what is that, Elena? What the fuck is that?” I gestured wildly at the flowers. It wasn’t a display a guy bought a chick they weren’t fucking. Those girls got a friendship tulip if anything at all, not an over-the-top arrangement of red roses.

  “I don’t know!” she cried, eyes welling with tears. “I thought they were from you!”

  I chuckled, blowing out a puff of hot air, dangerously close to doing something stupid. Like smashing the arrangement into a thousand pieces on the floor stupid. “As if I’d send you flowers.”

  Her breath hitched with a sob, pain ripping across her face. “Get out.”

  “Can do,” I muttered, stepping around her, more than ready to get my life back. It was exactly the eye-opener I needed. “Do me a favor and lose my number.”

  “Way ahead of you, asshole!” she cried, smacking her phone down on the counter. “Don’t speak to me again!”

  Not planning on it. I yanked open the door and stepped out into the hall, slamming every bad decision I made in the last few months behind it.

  Elena

  Time didn’t heal all wounds, and crying about them didn’t either.

  All crying did was stop up your nose and give you a headache. But there I was, sniffling and searching for any sign of Hank, social media plastered with images of the furry meatball of a cat. I called every veterinarian’s office and animal shelter in the area, too, issuing a kitty Amber Alert.

  Technically, I was on bed rest and not supposed to be walking around for hours with a bag of cat treats, but desperate times called for desperate measures. Concussion or not, Hank was my constant companion, my knight in gray fuzz. He needed me, and the apartment wasn’t home without him.

  I saw enough Forensics to know he likely didn’t feel the same loyalty, cats usually the first pet to sample their dead owners, but Hank deserved the effort, even if he would eat my face if I died.

  The weather wasn’t cooperating, dipping into the forties and drizzling rain regardless of my little guy’s preference for sleeping by the radiator. He wouldn’t stand a chance on the streets, having transformed from a ferocious feral to a pampered diva.

  Each block was more painful than the last, mentally and physically. Post-concussion syndrome was as wretched as the doctor warned, the headache and blurred vision making the trek ten times harder.

  The image of Hank shivering saturated my thoughts alongside Jason’s face when he insinuated I wasn’t worth flowers. I never felt so cheap, reminded I was nothing but a free fuck. He hadn’t come out of genuine concern; he came to see when I’d be ready to spread my legs again. It was a horrific realization, more painful than any blow to the head.

  Lee left hours earlier after dinner, she and Jesse looking for Hank until dark with the kids to no avail. They ordered me to stay inside, and I did until they left.

  I checked every dumpster and bin I could find, but each time I found putrid trash and no Hank. Calling his name and shaking the treat bag did nothing.

  The hours circling left me heartbroken, convinced my baby was gone for good. I prayed someone had taken him in as the rain trickled down, my raincoat loudly repelling its drops. Step by step, I trudged along, devastated in more ways than I thought possible.

  I wished all the tears were for Hank, but I knew they weren’t. I wa
s hurt. Hurt and battered in the worst of places, my still-fragile heart reeling from the blowup with Jason.

  I was a fool to think the flowers were from him. He made it abundantly clear what we were. I did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t in getting attached and giving it meaning.

  I had no idea why Justin had sent me a bouquet and didn’t want to know. I hadn’t seen him since the laundry aisle incident and hoped never to see him again. I gifted the flowers to a neighbor. As beautiful as they were, I didn’t want them anywhere near me.

  The cold drizzle left the already tame city quieter than usual, a few cars passing through here and there. It broke my heart to scan the sides of the road, fearing the worst.

  But he was nowhere.

  I was ready to give up for the night when I spied a dark, crumpled heap by a sewer grate. I rushed over, leaping into the runoff, reaching towards the mangled mound, my fingers sinking around the soft blob to discover it was a shirt, not a cat.

  “Oh, thank God!” I breathed, hands still trembling.

  At that, a car sped by, “Get a car you fucking loser!” hurled my way as they swerved into the runoff, a stream of water jetting straight under my hood to the stitches I so carefully tucked away. It was the only advice I listened to.

  And that was all it took.

  I clenched my temple and wailed, pain radiating from everywhere. I left the door open. I chased after him. I was the klutz who tripped and went down the stairs. I was the one wandering around defying doctor’s orders. If I were more careful, I would have still had Hank instead of an empty apartment and a gash on my head, another bill sure to arrive to hold me hostage.

  I headed home in defeat, whimpers escaping as I went along. I still scanned every crevice on the way, desperate for a sign of my boy, listening for meows over the rain, knowing Hank would be more than mouthy about getting wet. But there was nothing.

  Once in the stairwell, I was confronted with the overpowering stench of cleaner, another reminder of my crappy week. According to Lee, the place looked like something from a horror flick, blood streaking the stairs and pooling on the landing.