Page 33 of Downpour

“Don’t fucking defend someone if they assaulted you.”

“He has dementia and he was having a bad day and didn’t know who I was. He hit me and threw a plate at my head.” Her words spilled out, one on top of the other.

“Fuck that shit. You’re not going back there. Call your boss and tell them to make that man someone else’s problem.”

Brooke shook her head. Tears streamed down her cheeks as a warbled plea slipped from her lips. “No one else will take him. If I lose another client, I’ll get fired. And if I get fired, I’ll lose my job. And if I lose my job, I’ll lose my room in the house. I can’t lose my job, Ray. I can’t.”

I wanted heads to roll for this. Unfortunately, I wasn’t the one who could crack skulls anymore. But I knew someone who could.

I fired off a text to Cassandra while Brooke rummaged around in my kitchen, making some halfway edible pancakes and bacon for dinner.

She handed me a plate and settled on the couch beside me. Neither of us had much of an appetite.

“You pick,” I said as I handed her the TV remote and managed to grab a piece of bacon with my left hand.

Brooke turned on some obnoxious Real Housewives spinoff, but it didn’t look like she was paying much attention. Her eyes were glassy and heavy as the people argued on screen.

Fifteen minutes in, I found myself unfortunately interested in the dramatics on the TV, and Brooke’s head was on my shoulder.

Carefully, I wrapped my arm around her and tilted my body so she was resting on my chest.

Her lips were parted as soft snores escaped. I had never seen Brooke this exhausted. Hell—she was usually the Energizer Bunny.

I grabbed a throw pillow and put it on my lap before gently guiding her down to rest. She curled up like a cat, tucking her hands under her cheek and drawing her knees to her chest. I tugged down the blanket from the back of the couch and draped it over her body.

I brushed her hair away from her face and closed my eyes as I tangled warm curls around my fingers. Her body relaxed as I stroked her head.

Brooke never woke, and I didn’t sleep. Because for once, I wanted to be awake.

8

BROOKE

Soft light floated through the living room. Everything was quiet. The couch creaked as I eased up onto my elbow and blinked.

Oh no.

Oh no, no, no.

My stomach sank like an anvil as I blinked the sleep from my eyes and came to.

Oh my god. I fell asleep at Ray’s house.

On Ray’s couch.

On top of Ray.

The set of abs under my head was a startling wake-up call, but oh my god—he smelled so good.

I panicked, pawing around until I found my phone stuffed between the couch cushions.

It was only a few minutes after nine in the morning, but it was an hour past when I was supposed to be at Mr. Wilson’s house.

Missed calls from Peggy at the main office filled my phone screen.

I wassogetting fired.

Dread and anxiety roiled in my gut as I scrambled off the couch.

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