Shaking away my thoughts, I start the car, shift into drive, and pull away from the curb, taking the streets toward the freeway home.
My phone rings, Dez’s name popping up, and I accept the call. “Please tell me you aren’t at the office.”
There are nights when he stays in the office later than I do. It’s what makes him an amazing number two. He’s meticulous to a fault. Dez works hard to know every single detail about our clients, the business, and everything else going on in Hollywood. He has as many connections as I do, if not more.
Dez chuckles. “You’re one to talk, boss.”
“Fair.” Working late is a bad habit we both share.
“But if it makes you feel better, not tonight. Reenie and I just left.”
“Good.” There’s a long pause on the line. “But?”
“No buts. Just wanted to give you a rundown. Are you available?”
“Hit me with it. I’m on my way home.”
“Late night at the studio?”
“No. Just finished dinner,” I blurt without thinking.
“Alone?” I can hear the interest in his voice.
Shit.
I hate lying, but I also don’t want to talk about it, especially not with Dez. He’d give me hell for taking Callie to dinner and then would encourage me to be with her, not stay away like I should. He was in the hallway the day Callie and I met, and witnessed the way we reacted to each other. The attraction.
Dez was also in the meeting when I treated her like crap and talked down to her, accusing her of being a cookie-cutter pop singer, so he should know there is no chance of me and Callie getting together.
“Are you calling to talk business or gossip?”
“Nice deflection, but I’ll bite. Just don’t think we won’t be revisiting this conversation later.”
I have no doubt. “Yeah, yeah. Get talking before I hang up on you.”
Dez laughs again before he fills me in on what’s been happening at the office. I knew he’d have a handle on all the things in my absence.
Twenty-five minutes later, I’m pulling into my driveway as I hang up with Dez. Pride fills my chest. He deserves the promotion I discussed with Hudson about, and I can’t wait to see his face when we tell him. He’s doing an amazing job at the helm.
My phone rings again through the hands-free system, flashing my dad’s name and number on the dashboard screen as I idle in front of my house.
Weird.He usually calls on the weekend to check in.
“What’s up, Pops?” I immediately answer.
“Hey, son.” His serious tone makes my hackles rise.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, thankful that I didn’t cut my car’s engine yet.
“It’s Cam. I’m worried. He won’t answer the phone when I call. I need your help.”
Shit.
My gut churns as guilt coils like a ball of puke in my stomach. I’ve been so wrapped up in Callie I’ve barely watched Cam’s games or texted to check on him.
Instead, I played off Cameron’s problems as nothing. Hell, I even blew off Mason and Jace’s worries because I’ve been so wrapped up in all things Callie.
But if Dad is calling, it’s more serious than I thought. I’m a shit brother. I should have noticed that Cam’s been in terrible shape since everything went sideways with his girlfriend, and her brother, who is his teammate.