Page 50 of Forget

Jayda struggled to keep her expression impassive as she shot Brock a concerned look. He sat rigid, his jaw clenched, his face shuttered.

Oblivious to the tension, Pat took another sip and continued. ‘To their credit they’ve stuck it out and he’s well respected in our industry. Never rips off his customers. Happy to refer people to other yards if he doesn’t have what they’re after. And has softened towards your mum, having a good word to say about her these days.’

Brock remained still but the pulse of a vein at his temple indicated he wished he could be anywhere but here with his family’s issues being laid bare by a garrulous old man.

‘They’re a good team now, always looking out for each other.’ Pat’s mouth downturned. ‘A lot of broken marriages in this business but those two are like this these days.’ He intertwined his fingers. ‘After the ups and downs they’ve withstood, good luck to them.’

‘Yeah,’ Brock said, but he looked shell-shocked. He cast a quick glance at the main doors and Jayda hoped he wouldn’t bolt again. This time, she wouldn’t let him.

‘Anyway, enough of my ramblings, let’s make a toast.’ Pat raised his glass in the air. ‘To those lucky bastards and their better halves.’

Jayda smiled and clinked glasses with Pat, but while Brock did the same the haunted look in his eyes worried her. If she had a fraught relationship with her folks, it looked as if Brock had a host of conflict with his.

Hopefully he’d trust her enough to tell her. If not, she knew exactly how to distract him.

23

Brock had beenin a tailspin since this godforsaken evening had started and the out-of-control sensation hadn’t let up since.

Desperate to obliterate the questions reverberating through his head, he struggled not to break the speed record between the function centre and his place. But he did turn up the music, his state-of-the-art sound system drowning out his thoughts and anything Jayda might have to say.

From the curious expression on her face, it would be plenty.

She wanted to talk. Even now, he could sense her casting sideways glances his way, as if she was trying to size up the situation. In response, he tapped at a button on the steering wheel, raising the volume.

He wanted to talk, but he couldn’t; not until he processed all he’d learned during that interminable function, starting with how his father’s cronies revered him and ending with how his mates admired him for changing.

He’d witnessed his folks sniping and bickering for years behind closed doors, guilty that they stuck together because of him. The harsh put-downs, the derisive glares, the frigid stares, he’d seen them all. He’d thought his parents despised eachother. But to learn others had seen it too shocked the hell out of him.

Even more surprising, while Duke and Pat had alluded to his parents’ problematic marriage, they’d also painted a very different picture of George and Bette more recently, which gelled with what Brock had observed.

It confused the hell out of him. Had he been so self-centred that he hadn’t noticed the changes? Sure, they rarely spent time together, but he should’ve seensomething…

This whole business made his head ache and he needed a distraction.

Luckily, he had a luscious, beautiful distraction sitting next to him and the minute they entered his penthouse he wouldn’t dwell on his bizarre evening or the revelations regarding his folks anymore.

He didn’t need anyone as a rule, but tonight he needed Jayda.

Being a loner had served him well. Not depending on anyone meant he had low expectations of people and avoided disappointment. But tonight was the first time in a long time that he didn’t want to be alone. He wanted to be… held.

That couldn’t be right. He wanted to fuck. Yeah. Fucking would obliterate his neediness. Cuddling was for sooks.

A deeply buried memory rose unbidden. He’d been five and tripped over a hubcap at the car yard, landed heavily and sliced his knee open. The blood had freaked him out more than the cut and he’d run screaming into the office and into his mother’s arms. She’d gathered him close and smothered his face with kisses to distract him while she’d dabbed at his knee with a tissue. His dad had marched into the office, bellowing about his screaming scaring off a customer. George had taken one look at his knee, at his mum comforting him, and sneered, ‘Cuddling is for sooks.’

Was that the first time he’d started to hate his dad?

His fingers clenched around the swipe card to the underground car park as he held it up to the scanner and the metal grate slowly slid up. He hated that his thoughts of a moment ago had once again echoed his father, reminding Brock it could be time to acknowledge their similarities when he’d spent too long accentuating their differences.

He parked and turned off the engine, the sudden silence making him aware of exactly how loud he’d had the sound.

‘Why didn’t you tell me how loud that was?’

She swivelled to face him, her compassionate expression surprising him. ‘Because you needed to drown out your thoughts.’

Was he that easy to read? He didn’t need her empathy on top of everything else. Her understanding had the power to undo him completely when he was feeling this vulnerable.

Scowling, he got out of the car and rounded it to open her door. He didn’t offer his hand. He couldn’t touch her, not when he wanted to hang onto her so badly and never let go.

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