"Smart boy. Well, I think it is interesting that before you left to go to the cabin, you were happy as a clam. And now, you're all mopey. I find that interesting."
"Fee, don't," I demanded, shaking my head. "Haven't you done enough?" I asked, hearing a rawness in my voice that I didn't like having there, but I didn't know how to stop it either.
"Oh, but I thought it was "no big deal," just the "principal of the thing," she said, air-quoting the things I'd said to her over the phone. I never knew someone to have a better memory than a woman determined to make a point.
"Remember that text you sent me six years ago? On that day where it was raining and the neighbor's dog came barreling into the back door to get out of it? And I took his picture to send you. And then you told me that you thought my interest in photography was a waste of time. Well, look at me now, supporting the two of us with that money. I was just thinking about that, randomly. Funny huh?"
"Fee..."
"I think for all the brushing off you've given me, that I was a little bit right. Something happened in those woods. And you are all pissy about it for some reason," she concluded.
"I'm not pissy," I objected, taking a sip of my too-hot coffee, regretting it as it burned down my throat.
"I raised three daughters, Rush, I know pissy when I see it."
"Look, I don't know what it is, Fee. I'm just feeling restless. Maybe it will pass."
"And if it doesn't?"
"I don't know. I'll have to shake it up somehow, I guess."
"You would dare leave me?" she asked, clutching her heart.
"I haven't had a call in days," I reminded her, though I was sure she was aware. She was always on top of things like that.
"Yeah, you're fucking up my bottom line," she teased, waving a hand. "Who knows. Maybe your regulars are busy or on vacation. Or sick. They will probably call back. Hang in there for a few more days. If there is still nothing, then, yeah, I guess maybe we will need to reconsider the need for your position. But I would never throw you out on the streets."
"I have Kingston to fall back on," I reminded her. "With Nixon working with Reagan a lot now, and Atlas never around for long, he could use the help. I wouldn't be on the street. I'm not giving up yet. I'm just in a shit mood. It'll pass."
"Right," she agreed, smirking. "Emotions do that. Just go away on their own. No work or change or anything."
"I'll be fine, Fee. but thanks for giving a shit."
"You know... I could ask Helen to reinstate the 'bring a date' rule this Sunday."
"Fuck, Fee. Don't kick a man when he's down," I demanded, getting up from my seat, feeling a little lighter than I had when I walked into her office.
Family could do that.
Lighten the load.
Or, sometimes, help build you back up, so it didn't feel quite so heavy anymore.
I was just getting back to my desk when I saw a familiar light brown ponytail bouncing away from me on her way to her desk.
She was back.
Better.
And back.
I hadn't seen or heard from her since her apartment. Where her mom none-too-subtly tried to suss out what was going on between us. Much to the embarrassment of her daughter. I should have been a nicer guy and brushed off the invite to brunch. Especially since it hadn't come from Katie herself. But what can I say? I wanted to try those crêpes.
The crêpes.
It had nothing at all to do with the woman who made them, a woman who had been invading my thoughts far more than she should have. A woman who plagued my dreams, leaving me waking up hard and aching.
It didn't matter how many times I told myself to stop thinking about her.
There she always was.
And now, here she was.
She buzzed through the office, gathering files off the desks as she passed, slipping some paperwork onto others.
Her work attire was different than what she wore in the cabin—thick layers to keep warm. I guess because at work, she was in control of the thermostat, and she kept it boiling, something most of my female coworkers enjoyed. So she tended to wear dresses to work, but never anything form-fitting, anything that suggested she had any soft curves underneath. Which I knew for a fact she did.
This day, she was wearing a navy blue dress of some flowing material with a little white bird pattern on it, the skirt falling just below her knee, the top a size or so too big. She did have a white sweater on over the dress, but not an oversized one, and she had it open in front. She had on flats. Always did. Today, in blue to match her dress. I hadn't seen her wear any jewelry at the cabin, but she had little diamond studs in her ears and something hanging off a simple silver chain.
I wanted to go over there, apologize for showing up at her place, for implying that she was avoiding me instead of being genuinely sick.
I was just about to get up to do that when her phone started ringing, making her rush over the last few steps, answering.
Then I watched as her calm, professional demeanor melted away, leaving her shoulders slumping, her face falling.
Her gaze shot around the room, making mine fall for a second, not wanting to be caught watching her.
But as soon as her gaze was forward again, I couldn't help but look her way, finding her pulling off her glasses, rubbing the bridge of her nose.
Bad news?
Someone she just didn't want to talk to?
Curiosity had me rising from my seat, making my way over toward the coffee station even though I still had a mostly-full mug from Fiona's office. But the coffee station was a few feet from Katie's desk. And if I was going to be a fucking creep, I figured I could go whole hog with it.
"I can't talk right now," she insisted. "No. You know I'm at work."
Was that...a boyfriend?
It didn't sound like she was talking to her mom in that tone. And she said she didn't really have friends that night while we played board games.
Even if she was shy, I didn't believe she never dated, never had men in her life.
Was this one of them?
This person calling to nag her at work?
It certainly seemed like something a romantic entanglement would do.
An ex, maybe?
"You can't. Stop," she demanded, voice getting more strained, more desperate. "Just stop. Please," she demanded.
My stomach fucking bottomed out at that.
Please.
I'd heard that word so many times, it was burned into my brain.
Please. Please. Please.
It was said in a similar, but different way. Both ways were desperate. This one was a little sad. The one I'd heard time and time and time again, it was needy.
But I heard it.
I knew it.
"You want to come, don't you?" I'd asked.
"Yes, please. Please," she'd whimpered.
Fuck.
Jesus Christ.
There was no way.
No fucking way.
Except, maybe, there was.
Katherine.
Katie.
She barely said anything. I always figured because she simply didn't know what to say, liked listening more. But maybe it was more than that. Maybe she was afraid I would recognize her voice. Because she worked just ten feet away from me. Every goddamn day. For years.
Shit.
Shit.
"I have to go. I have to go," she added to the caller, voice firmer. She slammed her phone down on her desk, letting out a sighing breath.
I wasn't one for confrontation. Sibling rivalry aside, there just rarely ever seemed to be a need for it. It had always worked better for me to hash shit out calmly, rationally.
There was nothing calm or rational about me right then, though.
I found myself storming over to her desk, leaning forward.
My voice, when it came out, was low, but seething.
"Are you fucking kidding me?" I snapped, making her head jerk back like I'd struck her, her brows drawing togethe
r.
"I, ah, what?" she asked, shaking her head. "I mean, I know, I shouldn't take personal calls at work. He isn't supposed to call the work line anyway. I rushed him off the phone. Fee will understand."
"You mean you don't want to keep him—whoever he is—on the phone for an hour, two hours, talking about the weather, moaning out your orgasm while you finger-fuck yourself, like you did with me?" I asked, watching as her face fell. "You lied to me."
"I... I didn't... I just..."
"Rush," Fiona called, voice holding a warning. I figured because I was making a scene, but when I glanced over, everyone was busy with work, and she was the only one approaching, gaze moving between the two of us.
"This doesn't concern you, Fee," I shot back.
"It does, actually," she said, shrugging, casting a worried glance at Katie.
"It does—" I started again before something seemed to click, a certain chain of events, meddling on the part of someone who never played a random matchmaker. Except maybe it wasn't so random. Maybe she knew. And instead of putting a stop to it, she fucked with us. Fucked with me. Since I was the only one in the dark. "Oh," I said, scoffing.
"Rush, wait, hey," Fee started, sensing me putting all the pieces together.
"Don't," I said, shaking my head, feeling very much a fool, very much played. "Fuck this," I said, turning, slamming my hand into the door, and bursting out onto the street.
I don't know if either of them followed. My blood was whizzing through my ears, making hearing anything else all but impossible as I made my way toward my car, hopping in, peeling off.
I wasn't, by nature, a reckless driver. I was a good one, a precision driver who could make a getaway like very few in the business. But, as a whole, I hung that up when we went legit years back.
There was nothing careful or civilian about the way I peeled through Navesink Bank, seeking an open road, some room to think, to let my thoughts spread far and wide.
Maybe then, I could make some sense of them.
But after three hours on the road, I was no closer to understanding what was going on, why it was going on, than I had been when I left.
Most of the anger burned off, though, there was a strange mix of betrayal and relief in me.
Neither made sense.
But that didn't change shit.
Unsure where else to turn, I made my way toward King's office, knowing he was always a voice of reason for us when we couldn't—or wouldn't—be rational about a situation without his input.
When I walked in, I found him sitting off the front of the reception desk, looking very much like the sounding board I needed right then.
He gave me a nod. "I was warned I might be seeing you. Figured it would be sooner than this. You're lucky I am always working late. What's going on? Fee said she fucked up. And since we all know Fee doesn't like admitting she fucked up, it must be big."
King was, for all intents and purposes, a father figure to all of us. Not having our father, then losing our mother young, he was who we had. To provide for us. In financial ways, but also in emotional ones. Older, wiser, he was forever putting out our fires, cooling our rage, calming our anxieties.
He had enough on his plate.
But that didn't stop me from piling on.
"Fee has known that my regular caller is a coworker at the office for a while. And instead of putting an end to it, she tricked us both into thinking we were going on a work retreat, and then trapped us there together."
"Really? Fee?" King asked, face scrunching up. "That's not like her."
"I know," I agreed. "And yet, here we are."
"Did something happen with you? And the office girl?"
"That's not the point."
To that, he let out a laugh. "Oh, Rush. Sometimes it is," he said, raking a hand down his face.
"People shouldn't fuck with your life."
"Man, we are linked with the Mallick family. Someone is always going to be fucking with our lives. But we love them. And we know that, underneath all the shit, they have our best intentions at heart. You're not mad that she got involved. You're pissed because you feel stupid."
"They fucked me over."
"Did they?" he reasoned. "I mean, Fee was wrong. She knows it. She will apologize for it. You know that. But what did the girl do? Did she plot with Fiona to trap you at the cabin to have her way with you?" he asked, rolling his eyes.
"No. It's not like that. She's... she's shy and quiet and no, she wouldn't do that."
"So, what is she guilty of, really?"
"She knew it was me. And I didn't know it was her. That's fucked up."
"Or, like you said, she was shy and quiet. And she was lonely. And she needed to reach out. And you were a safe, familiar person. But she was embarrassed for someone she knew in person to know how lonely and desperate she was."
"That's..."
"The more fair way of thinking about it?" Kingston supplied. "Yeah, I know. You were always one to rush to conclusions. To rush into everything. Mom named you well. It's fine when you're young and stupid and you can use young and stupid as an excuse. But you're not a kid anymore, Rush. You gotta think shit out before you react to it."
See?
Total dad-advice with him.
It was rarely what I wanted to hear.
But it was always what I needed to.
"Did you already confront her?" he asked, reading my reaction on my face. "Shit," he said, sighing.
"It wasn't wrong to be angry."
"Maybe not," he relented. "But what did you accomplish? Make a shy and insecure girl feel even worse about herself? Was that really the best move you could have made?"
No.
It wasn't.
And he was right.
I was getting to know Katie well enough to know she was not going to take this easy, take my anger well.
Fuck.
"Go home," King suggested. "Think it over. I'm sure Scotti can throw together a nice bouquet for you to give her as an apology."
I wanted to ask how he knew I was going to come to the conclusion that I needed to apologize. But we both knew that answer.
Because he'd raised me to admit when I was wrong, to try to make amends.
"She was wrong too," I insisted, just because I wasn't done fucking moping about it, apparently.
"Maybe," he agreed, nodding. "But that sounds like something you should be talking about with her, not me."
"Speaking of you," I said, looking around the office, seeing the pile of paperwork sitting next to him on the desk. "You need help around here?"
"For fuck's sake, Rush. Deal with your problems, don't run away from them."
"It's not that. Fee and I had a conversation earlier about how slow my line has been lately. It's been a good run, but I think it is coming to an end. Sooner or later. Just wanted to know if you needed help, or if I should be putting feelers out somewhere else."
"This stack," King said, putting his hand down on the pile at his side, "are all pending cases and clients. I'm drowning. You wanna dip your toes in, or dive, I can use all the help I can get. Just say when."
"I'll start working here on my days off," I offered. "Then we will go from there when Fee decides to close my part of the business down."
"Sounds good. Oh, but one more thing, Rush," he called as I turned to walk away, making me turn back.
"Yeah?"
"Don't use work to avoid your problems," he told me, giving me a knowing smile. "Oh, and did Fee call Mark yet?" he asked, making me let out a grumble.
"There is nothing to call Mark over," I insisted, feeling like a broken record.
"Sure, sure," King said, shrugging, reaching for his stack of folders as he looked at me. "I can't decide if I want to do the conservative or risky route," he mused. "Oh, who am I kidding, you've never taken your time on anything. On a rush to be born, to grow up, to get from here to there, I'm putting my money on weeks, not months."
"You're going to lose that money," I assured hi
m.
"Yeah, you know," he said, lips curving up, "I don't think I will. Go home. I'll see you in a couple days."
With that, feeling a little better like I always did after having spoken to King, I left, making my way back to my apartment.
I liked having roots, but I hadn't put them down deep enough to buy a house. A part of me always knew that my tenure at Fee's business had a clock on it. For any number of reasons: the market and demand shifting, Fee changing direction to video which I already told her wasn't going to be my thing, or even if I eventually found a woman, wanted to settle down, save my dirty talk just for her.
And if you weren't sure about your career, you didn't do shit like take out a mortgage for thirty years.
If I went to work for King, though, it would become a possibility. Get a yard with a fence, have Savea find me some mangy mutt to play fetch with, eventually have a couple kids to play ball with, build clubhouses for.
It had taken a long time for me to start to consider things like a wife and kids. But after being around the Mallicks, and now my brothers as they started to settle down, it made me sure that was the future I wanted.
It wasn't wild and exciting.
But I had spent so much of my life with wild and exciting. I got my fill. I was ready for a different kind of adventure.
Not with Katie, though, as everyone seemed to think.
There was nothing wrong with her. She was sweet, cute, smart, interesting. And now that I knew it was her on the phone, yeah, there was no denying that there was something within me that felt pulled to her in a primal way.
It was just... too messy.
The phone calls, the lying about them. Or, if not lying, then omitting them.
Not a great start to anything.
After a drink or two, though, I came to the same conclusion as King.
I needed to apologize for my reaction, give her the chance to explain herself.
And I damn near brought the flowers too.
The only problem was, by the time I got to work for the next few days, she was already long gone, her desk left neatly organized.
Fee, too, was suspiciously gone. And not answering her texts.
And after a few days of working for King, and not working for Fee since my phone never rang, I made the decision.
Pull You In (Rivers Brothers Book 3) Page 10
