Page 20 of Doctor’s Surprise Twins

Peter scowled at my remark, and Evan nodded. “Sure thing. I don’t mind. We need to muck the stalls and put out fresh hay tonight, so it will be great to have some help.”

“Good, I’ll just show him where to get the pitchforks.”

I headed off toward the shed and Peter followed on my heels. The night was chillier than what was seasonal, and I wished I’d have brought a jacket to work. I didn’t intend to stand in the barn mucking stalls in these expensive shoes, but I had to at least get Peter started.

“You know, it’s embarrassing enough that I have to come to my brother to ask for help when I need some money. You don’t have to tell other people.” I could hear the anger in his voice, and I bit my tongue. I didn’t want to argue again.

When we reached the shed, I realized the padlock was shut, and the key was hanging on the hook inside the back door of the house. Frustrated, I slammed my fist into the door and reeled around on my heel to head back up to the house. Peter, standing directly in my path, startled and sidestepped out of my way. He glared at me and raised his hands.

“Watch it. What the hell is your problem?”

“Me?” I snapped. “What’s my problem?” I gave him a light push and continued toward the house. “What’s your problem? You come over to work for me then complain. You can’t be grateful for anything. You have always been like this.”

He stutter-stepped to catch up and stomped along beside me with his fists clenched. “Well, Mom wouldn’t have made me work just to make some money. I have a car payment due. She’d have just helped me.”

“Well, I’m not Mom. And I’m not going to just let you have a free ride on my dime.”

“Free ride? Is that what you think of me? You have millions of dollars sitting in a fucking bank account untouched, and you can’t just help me out? I have to roll in horse shit just to be able to pay my bills?”

I couldn’t believe his entitled attitude. I ignored his comment as I headed for the house. But something wasn’t sitting right in my gut. It was the same thing that ate away at my last nerve every time we had this argument. Peter carried on like he needed Mom’s money so fucking bad, when all I wanted was my mother back. I’d bankrupt myself tenfold just to have her.

“I’m just saying, you should help your brother.”

I couldn’t ignore his comment any longer. I whipped around and gave him a hard shove, sending him backward until he slammed into the side of the barn. “You want help? Why the fuck didn’t you help me, then?”

He looked shocked, bracing himself so he didn’t fall. “Help you when?”

“When I tried to get Mom to use her millions to get treatment for theverytreatable condition she had that led to her death. Huh? Why couldn’t you think of anything other than yourself while I was trying to save her life?”

My gut tightened. I tightened my hands into fists and realized smashing my brother’s face in was not a productive method for dealing with my anger, so I walked away. He wasn’t worth the energy it would take. I climbed in my car and drove up to the house, forgetting entirely about the key for the shed. Hammer knew where it was. He could deal with Peter.

It didn’t matter that I had put space between myself and Peter. The rage he stirred up hovered over me like a dark cloud. I paced the kitchen, then sent Evan a message letting him know where I was and to instruct Peter on what to do. After peeking out the back window and seeing them both with pitchfork in hand, I knew Evan had already had the keys and my trip to the house would have been in vain anyway. At least Peter was occupied now.

With that off my mind, I thought I’d feel better, but the damage was done. I was stir crazy. My thoughts wandered to Maggie and why she hadn’t responded to me all day. I started to obsess about her reasoning, which led me to get angry again and stew. Before I knew it, I was dialing her number. The minute she picked up, I jumped down her throat.

“Hey... sorry I—”

“Why haven’t you returned any of my calls or messages? I’ve been calling all day. You didn’t even tell Barb why you weren’t at work.” She squeaked out an answer but I talked over her. “I’m really upset. We need to talk. Peter is at it again, and I’m going to literally punch him in the face.”

“Whoa, calm down.”

“I don’t want to calm down.” My pacing became frenzied. I raked a hand through my hair. “I need to talk to you. I’m going to come over. Okay? Send me your address.”

I didn’t even wait for her to respond or send the address. I just hopped in my car and peeled out. As frustrated as I was, this conversation should be had in person, not over the phone. If she didn’t respond to me now, I wasn’t sure what to do.

CHAPTERFOURTEEN

Maggie

The minuteI hitSendon that text message, I rushed around my house cleaning up. I wasn’t a slovenly person by any means, but Derek had never been to my place. I wanted his first impression to be that my home was somewhere he could be comfortable. So I tossed all the dishes in the dishwasher—not properly, mind you. They just got stacked and jumbled in there so they weren’t on the counter anymore.

The throw pillows needed to be fluffed and straightened. I’d left three pairs of shoes by the front door, and there were girly magazines strewn about on various pieces of furniture. I had no more than dropped my shoes in my closet and pulled the covers up over my unmade bed than the doorbell rang.

Derek was haggard looking. I could tell it had been a rough day for him. I’d spent the better part of the morning hovering over the toilet throwing up my eggs and sausage myself, so I could sympathize. But his dark circles and disheveled hair didn’t appear to be from feeling ill. Given what he’d spewed at me about Peter on the brief phone call, I doubted he came over to ask me to check his temperature.

“Are you okay?” I shut the door softly behind him as he started pacing. He was pretty worked up so I just gave him space. I understood that this wasn’t a booty call, so my thoughts were only on calming him down and helping him in whatever way I could. My heart went out to him.

“I’m really fucking pissed off.” He rubbed his forehead as he paced. If he did it very long at all, he’d have raw skin and I’d have threadbare carpet. I nervously chewed on my lip, waiting for his explosion. I hadn’t responded to him because I was genuinely ill, and I didn’t feel like I had to explain myself to anyone. I had done my duty by calling in to tell Barbra I wouldn’t be at work.

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