Page 46 of A Taste of Chardonnay

“What’d the doctors say?”

Chardonnay wasn’t going to let me off that easily, so even though I had no desire to talk, I opened up. “They’re holding him for evaluation, since we don’t know how long he was in the house with the fumes.”

“Understandable. Better safe than sorry.”

“I need to get Ron a nurse. He’s not capable of being by himself. He left the fucking gas stove on today. No flame. His house was filling with propane. If I didn’t stop by. If I didn’t smell it...”

She grabbed my bicep, eyes meeting mine. “He’s lucky you showed up.”

“Exactly, but what if I didn’t? He could have died from the fumes. The house could have fucking exploded.” I ran my hands over my face, wanting this nightmare to go away.

I glanced at Char, who looked too beautiful in her red winter peacoat and black scarf wrapped too perfectly around her slim neck. “Why do I care? He never gave two shits about me when he kicked me out my senior year. Yet I’m supposed to forget all that shit and take him in? Give him a life better than he ever gave me? I want to say fuck it. But I can’t.

“Why can’t I fucking say no?”

Her lips twitched in the corners, and she settled a hand on my shoulder—a touch that immediately took some of the tension away. “You’d have every right to say no, Brady. No one would blame you or think badly of you.”

My chest contracted, wishing I could believe those words myself. “I would. I would think badly of me.”

Her hand ran over my shoulder and scratched the back of my neck, teasing my too-long hair. “You’re a good person. And you did that despite your upbringing.”

“Talk about fucking irony.”

“I can help you with the paperwork.”

“I can’t ask that of you.”

“Good thing you’re not asking.”

“But why? Why help me at all?”

“Ilikepaperwork.” She placed her hand on mine. “And Idon’tlike seeing you like this.”

“Since when?”

“Since always.”

I wrapped my hand around her waist and pulled her to me, burying my head in the crook of her neck. I inhaled her lemon scent, allowing it to calm my frazzled nerves. “Thank you.”

Her fingers raked across my hair, curving down my ear and jaw. “When’s the last time you ate?”

“About three hours ago.”

Chardonnay led me into her house, Jack right on our heels. “Let’s get you some food.”

I already had dough made in the fridge, so I grabbed it and got to work throwing a pizza together. Once it was in the oven, I grabbed a head of romaine and started to chop.

“You’re doing too much,” Brady said after he made a call to update Ron’s friends on what had happened.

“You’re a six-foot-three, two-hundred-plus pound man who is surviving on a Kind bar. You need a proper meal.”

“Six-four,” he corrected.

“Another inch that needs food.”

“I can give you a few inches,” he said, and a smile cracked at the edge of his mouth.

I didn’t want to laugh, but one slipped out. “I stepped into that.” I had four brothers; I knew better.

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