Page 5 of More Than Words

“You lost me at opinionated. I’m sorry that standing up for my authors and chosen genre makes me opinionated.”

“I thought we were calling a truce,” he chuckled, seemingly unaffected by my hostility.

“We tied. And you said you didn’t want a pity kiss, so I thought that meant I’d still be receiving your closed-minded, sexist, crude, incorrect, and often offensive commentary for the foreseeable future.”

“I can keep up my end of the bargain. I’ll try to watch my mouth, but I don’t want you to kiss me if you don’t want to. I’m not that much of a dick.”

“You sure about that?” I scoffed, pulled out my phone, and ordered a ride as he followed me toward the door. I would try to escape him outside, but it was still raining and dark.

“Trust me, Is.” He smirked as he stepped in close and tucked a few loose strands of my hair behind my ear. “If you’re not begging for it, I’m not interested. I can be patient. You won’t keep me waiting long.”

“You’re likely to be in the ground before that happens,” I growled as the alert that my ride had arrived popped up on my screen. I didn’t look back when I pushed through the door and jogged down the sidewalk to my awaiting car.

Adrian watched me through the glass with a smug grin as the car approached where I was standing. Pressing my hand against the car window, I flipped my middle finger, hating that he had turned me into this person. While I would readily admit I was stubborn and determined, I never wanted people to think I really was a bitch. Then I’d be just as bad as he was.

I could see his smile widen through the rain-streaked glass, and he held his hands over his heart while I narrowed my eyes and faced forward. I wanted to smack him for baiting me into competing against him. It was his fault I would be stuck going to that conference with him, and he seemed to look forward to tormenting me the entire time.

ADRIAN

Boston

While I stood at the bar window and watched the car pull away, I couldn’t help the smile on my face. I knew Isobel didn’t care for me. If the constant narrowed eyes and look of disdain painted across her face weren’t an indication, the heated conversations we had every time we were in the same room should probably clue me in.

I knew why she didn’t like me. It was my fault, but I couldn’t seem to turn it off around her. The professional persona was my armor. The protection from the real world that I’d strapped on at sixteen and never taken off. At least not around anyone but my family. I was pretty sure my Ma would beat the shit out of me if she knew half the things that came out of my mouth.

My twin brother and I may have grown up without a dad—we lost him right before we started kindergarten. And sometimes with holes in our shoes—thanks to being a single-parent household—but we’d been taught manners. Too bad being the nice guy didn’t get you shit in the world. It sure as fuck didn’t get you respect, and it didn’t remove the target from your back around the good ol’ boys’ club. But I was as good an actor as I was an editor.

I’d spent half of high school with my face buried in a book and the other half with a bat in my hands. Those were the only things that were gonna keep me outta the military, a construction site or a factory. My brother hadn’t been so lucky. He used to joke that I was the brains, and he was the brawn, but things had changed a lot since we were kids.

My phone started buzzing in my pocket, and I pulled it out, frowning as his face appeared on the screen. Where I was all flash and good looks, he was rugged and, well…hairy. Shaggy dark hair sprinkled with grays and a full beard covered up the scars I knew he still carried from his time in the Marines.

“How’s it going, Hutch?”

He huffed, probably ready to tear into me for how I could mask my accent. He’d never been able to master it, and despite leaving for almost two decades during his time in the service, I didn’t think he ever would. Not that he needed to; despite multiple tours of duty in two different branches of the military, he was still a townie. You could take the boy out of the neighborhood he’d grown up in, but it would always be a part of him.

“This fuckin guy, Jesus fuckin Christ, Ad. Where are yah?”

I’d told him this morning I had a thing after work, but something must have happened at home for him to call me.

“Where’s Pops? You need me to find him?”

A rough cough came through the line, and I winced, hating that every little thing seemed harder for him since he’d gotten home following his medical discharge. He’d come a long way, but his body had taken a lot of abuse at the hands of others in the last ten years.

“If you can pull yah self away from whateva cake eater shit you’ve been doin’. That old fuck told me he was goin’ to Dunkies and took off. I already called there, and the packie at the end of the block, and nobody’s seen ’im.”

“Does Ma know he’s missing again?”

“Are yah fuckin’ kidding me with this? I’m not tellin’ her shit,” he laughed, then lowered his voice. “She’s on an overnight. I don’t want her to worry when she can’t get home anyway.”

“There’s a Pats game on. I’m sure he’s down at the bar,” I sighed, grabbing my bag and heading toward the door. I knew if it weren’t raining, he’d go after our grandfather, but couldn’t use the cane safely with the sidewalks this wet. I also knew once he took his last dose of medicine, it meant he wasn’t functioning at full capacity. Some of those painkillers really packed a punch. It also made his Bostonisms a little more pronounced. There was no doubt which side of the bay he came from once his mouth opened past 8:00 p.m.

“You’re a fuckin’ gem, Ad. You know I wouldn’t call unless I was worried.”

“I know, Hutch,” I sighed, tucking my face down before I jogged toward the parking lot where I’d left my car earlier. “I’ll find ’im and get him home. Do you need anything? Did you eat?”

He growled, and I knew I’d hit a nerve. He didn’t like me babying or feeling sorry for him, but I knew he didn’t have the best track record of taking care of himself unless he had his daughter Penny for the weekend. “I’m fine. Just find Pops, and we’re square.”

“I…” the line disconnected, and I clenched my eyes shut as I pressed the button on the remote to my car, the chirp of the doors unlocking echoing despite the steady downpour.

---