“Shut up. You’re not dying, asshole.”
He laughs. “No, I’m not. But I can hear something in your voice that tells me that things between you are probably exactly what I fear.”
“Hot?”
“Fuck off.”
I laugh, grateful for the change in tone of the conversation.
“The two of you have always had this … thing,” he says. “If you’re in the same room, you find one another. No one else exists. You laugh at the same shit. You have this push and pull that’s amusing—or it would be if she wasn’t my baby sister and you weren’t you.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“You know what I mean.” He sucks in a breath. “I’ve seen this coming for a long time, and I’ve tried to keep it from happening. I should’ve known it was a pointless attempt.”
I force a swallow. “What are you saying, Brock?”
“I’m saying that you just told me that she needs me to call her. And that’s the first time I’ve ever heard you give a shit about what anyone else needs.” He laughs softly. “Just take care of her and don’t hurt her. I trust that you will do what’s best for her.”
“We’re doing this for ninety days. That’s it.”
“Whatever you’re telling yourself. I’ll see you when you get home.”
I nod. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
“Goodbye.”
I end the call but keep the phone in my hand.
I can’t go back to bed now because I’ll toss and turn all night. I can’t talk to Blakely about it. And I sure as hell can’t sit here with my thoughts and wind up looking at online medical sites.I’ll be convinced Brock is dead.
My fingers scroll through my contacts until I find Bianca’s name. Ignoring the plethora of unread messages, I open her chat box.
Me: Talk to me.
Bianca: Hi to you, too. How is married life?
Me: Going exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. I kind of like it.
Bianca: That’s scary.
I laugh.
Me: How are things with your neighbor? Is he still banging all night?
Bianca: No comment.
Me: COMMENT.
Bianca. Oh, he’s banging all night …
Me: Oh. I see.
Bianca: It’s going exceptionally well, as a matter of fact. I really like it.
Me: I assume you didn’t call the police on him.