Page 76 of Don't You Pucking Dare

She watches me, trying to piece it together. "Check Reese's place." She says it carefully, watching my reaction. "Her boyfriend."

The word hits like a slap. "Boyfriend?"

"Maple Apartments. I don't know which unit, honey, but it’s worth a try."

The hug I give her is quick, mechanical. My mind's already racing ahead to this man I've never heard of, this piece of my mother's life she never shared.

Brody watches me climb back in, saying nothing as I pull up Maple Apartments on my phone.

"She has a fucking boyfriend." Anger burns away the worry. "Let's go."

His engine roars to life. At least someone's reliable.

Maple Apartments looks exactly like somewhere my mother would end up. Paint peels from the walls in grimy strips, rust stains streak down from ancient air conditioning units, and every car in the lot has seen better decades.

"Now what?" I turn to Brody, hating how much I'm starting to rely on him.

"We wait." Always so damn calm.

"I'd rather be in my dorm playing my cello."

"Too late now, Duchess."

I study his profile while he watches the complex—the sharp line of his jaw, the tattoos crawling down his arms. Why is he really here? Guilt over what happened in that chamber? Or does he actually care?

It’s too quiet.

"Tell me something," I say, needing distraction from my thoughts.

"Like what?"

Men. "Anything. Something to make me stop thinking. Like what do you live for?" The question surprises us both.

He raises an eyebrow.

"Your favorite thing," I clarify. "The thing that makes life worth it."

He keeps scanning the parking lot, but something softens in his face. "Oreo McFlurries."

A laugh escapes before I can stop it. Not hockey, not violence, not power. Ice cream.

"And you, Duchess?"

"You'd think cello." My smile lingers. "But really? Karaoke."

"Yeah?"

"My mom and I used to have concerts in our living room." The memory aches. "She'd be high as a kite, but God, those were good times."

He absorbs this in silence, like he does everything.

"So, McFlurries after?"

"Hell yeah."

A pickup truck rumbles into the lot. I reach for the door handle, but Brody's hand catches mine. "Let me."

"Why you?" I ask, offended. I thought this was my case to handle.

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