Page 49 of The Confidentiality Clause
If Sutton thinks staying the night here is going to keep Brock from working, she’s sorely mistaken. The man would find a way to work while stranded on a deserted island.
“Sourpuss? What are you, eighty?”
She goes to throw another pillow, but Shaw takes it from her. Sutton’s glare turns on him.
“Take it easy on him, Love,” he says softly.
“Yeah,take it easy,” Brock echoes, because he’s a man with a death wish.
“I only told her that so she can conserve her ammo. If she runs out of pillows, she’s liable to go for sharp objects next. I’d rather not have to clean blood out of your mom’s carpet,” Shaw says, shooting him a hard look.
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Brock mumbles.
I shake my head. All the nostalgia from before is still present, but less cozy and more stabby. Even before Brock got too busy for all of us, we argued all the time. I think all of us have teamed up against each other at some point. Though if I recall correctly, Shaw tended to side with Brock or Sutton, never me. I smile at the thought of his dedication to her going that far back.
“I don’t know how we all managed to survive each other back in high school,” I say, trying to break the tension.
“Me either,” Shaw agrees with a laugh.
Sutton still looks angry. Shaw pulls her into his side and murmurs something in her ear. She visibly relaxes at his words. Jealousy stabs me in the chest. I wish I had someone who could do that for me. Especially right now, when each flash of lightning sets me on edge. I glance at Brock. There’s a meaningful look in his eyes, but he has no way of knowing about the accident. I only told Sutton and my parents. Can he see my envy? I look away, not liking the feeling of being on display.
We sip our hot cocoa in awkward silence. None of us are shy, so it doesn’t make any sense. I can’t come up with anything to say. I’m too scared of blurting out the fact that I’ve spent the past few weeks seeing Brock more than Sutton has in the last year. Guilt is eating away at me like the caterpillars Mrs. Jones says are ravaging her eggplants.
“How about a game?” Shaw asks after a few minutes of painful silence.
“Sounds fun,” I immediately agree, even though putting Sutton and Brock in a game against each other sounds like a recipe for disaster. I’d rather them yell at each other than glare in silence.
“Sure,” Sutton says at the same time Brock says, “If I have no choice.”
That earns him a glare from me this time.
“Why don’t we go look through the family game closet?” Shaw squeezes Sutton’s shoulder.
She nods and he pulls her up off the couch. They disappear down the hall. Once they’re gone, I look over at Brock.
“Would it kill you to at leastpretendto be happy to be here?” I hiss.
“It was hard enough to make time to come here. I should be catching up on work right now, not playing board games with a sister who hates me.”
I grab the pillow beside me and throw it at him. Unfortunately, he catches it and drops it beside him next to the one Sutton threw.
“Your sister doesn’t hate you, but if she did, acting like a bratty toddler wouldn’t help your case.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “It just threw me off, okay? I thought I’d survived the night. I was counting on going home soon.”
“Yes, you’re a real survivor.” I roll my eyes. “Dinner and hot cocoa with a family who loves you. How difficult.”
He clenches his jaw.
I lean forward in my seat. “Can you not see how much you’ve changed? Family used to be everything to you.”
His dark eyes flash like the lightning outside.
“Familyiseverything to me!” His whisper is more aggressive than it would be if he yelled. “I’m doing this for them.”
“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself if this is what they wanted? Did they ask this of you?” I’m about to continue when I hear Sutton giggling.
I look over my shoulder and see her leaning against Shaw. She’s looking up at him with a telltale blush on her cheeks. Her blonde hair is mussed, as is his hair.
