Page 28 of The Love Wager

“What’s going on? Why is the bank calling you?”

I swallow, meeting his eyes and trying to decide if it’s wise to tell the truth.

I just got him back.

“No reason. Business.”

His brows tug together in concern. “Well, being that this bar is a family endeavor, I’d think I was qualified to handle whatever’s happening.”

I close my eyes. “Don’t worry about it, Nick.”

“Bullshit. Whatever you’re into, whatever the issue is, I’m right here, Brooks. You’re not alone. Stop shouldering everything for both of us like we’re fucking kids. I’m a grown fucking man.”

He tosses the pen he’d been using to write across the bar, and it bounces and falls over the edge to the floor.

“I said don’t worry about it. It doesn’t concern you.”

I snatch Walt’s number off the pad, stuffing it in my pocket.

“Fuck that, Brooks. Whatever concerns you concerns me. You’re my brother!” he shouts after me as I head for the stairs that lead back to the apartment.

I stop, turning to look at him, really look at him. There are no longer dark clouds in his eyes. Does he still have nightmares? The night sweats? The flashbacks?

You can’t chance it.

“There’s no problem. Not anymore. I took care of it.”

“Great. Fine. Once again, Brooks fixes everything himself. Got it.”

I groan, brushing my hand through my hair. “Are you still covering the bar for me tonight? I have that rehearsal dance thing for the wedding.”

He looks as if he’s going to curse me out for the change of subject for a minute, but he sighs and then nods. “Yeah, I got you.”

“Thank you,” I add, hoping it’ll put a temporary Band-Aid on the scars from our fight.

I just need a little more time. Soon, this won’t be an issue, and the bar will be caught up. Sure, it all hangs on some harebrained scheme with a spiteful redhead, but it’s the best thing that’s fallen into my lap in a long time.

My brain spins jokes about her being in my lap last night, and I fight the urge to give it more than a passing thought.

My phone is losing its fucking mind on the kitchen counter when I get back to the apartment, and I take a few deep breaths before swiping it open to see texts from Taylor about the time for tonight, along with threats to be on time or getting a hot poker through my eye.

Shaking my head, I make for the shower, needing to drown out everything spinning through my mind and all the ways it could go wrong.

Ms. Daisy’s School of Danceis usually used for small productions and rehearsals for the local kids who attend after school, but every now and again, things like this are held inside—for a nominal fee, I’m sure.

The space is open inside and air-conditioned, and the walls are all tacky plank wood. It’ll suit what Taylor is trying to do, however, to ensure we don’t embarrass her on her perfect day.

Indie’s standing amongst the horde of bridesmaids when I walk inside, saying hello to Ms. Daisy briefly before locking eyes with her across the empty dance space.

I tip my hat to her, casually touching the brim with a finger in silent greeting.

She pulls her lip into her mouth, worrying it a bit between her teeth.

The moment is lost on everyone in the hall except for the two of us. The air sizzling between us makes all the hairs on my body stand on end as I try to get control of my reaction.

I can’t let her know she has this much sway over me. She’s going to blow out of town as messily as she blew in. She’ll take half the money and fix her big life in California while I’m back in Abaline—better off but missing her.

That’sifI don’t get a hold of myself.

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