Page 9 of Shot Taker

On my way, I stop at a bakery to grab some donuts for my friend.

Reemerging with a half dozen treats tucked under my arm, I check the address Brooke gave me. It feels familiar, but I can’t put my finger on why.

When I pull up at the doors, my stomach sinks.

I look up at the condo building looming overhead.

The condo building I’ve definitely been to once before.

Clay’s building.

* * *

“Hi, friend!” Brooke squeals as the door swings open. “I’m so glad you could stay with me. Between us, I’ve been needing some girl time. Oh my God, are those donuts?!”

Her enthusiasm deflates my idea to text Mari and see if she’s still open to a houseguest until I have enough for rent on my own.

Brooke takes me on a tour. The kitchen is beautiful. The apartment is like Clay’s, but it has different finishes. More feminine furniture and paint colors.

“Do a lot of team people live in this building?”

“A few.” Realization settles on her face. “Oh, you mean because Clay does.”

“You could’ve told me.” But the moment it’s out, I feel like a jerk. She’s doing me a huge favor.

“He’s on a different floor.”

Maybe she’s right. The man caught me when I fell off a ladder and couldn’t wait to get away from me. At this point, he’d probably wait for another elevator just to avoid me.

Brooke sinks onto the couch in an elegant move, depositing the box of treats on the coffee table and motioning me to join her. “You never told me what happened the night of the wedding. Not the details, anyway.”

“He left me a letter saying we were nothing. Basically, the same as my ex when he disappeared. At least Clay had it hand-delivered.”

Her expression darkens. “That’s really shitty. I’m sorry.”

“He never promised anything. And I should have known better than to think he cared about me.” After what Brad did, I should have seen it coming.

She makes a sound of understanding. “Guys aren’t worth the hassle. I’m going to make this better for you. You’ll forget all about him.”

Brooke rises and holds out a hand. I take it and follow her to the bedrooms.

“This is you.”

I gasp as I look around the huge room, my suitcase already laid on a luggage rack. “It’s beautiful. This bed…”

“I figured you’d like pink.” She grins. “This is your closet.” She throws open the doors and steps inside.

“You could have a party in there.”

“You will. But while we’re on the topic, you don’t have enough clothes to fill this. We need to go shopping tomorrow.”

I open my mouth to protest but stop. “I have a stipend for my job, but I want to cover my half of rent.”

She waves. “The place is paid up for the year. And you brought donuts.”

I blink at her. The donuts weren’t cheap, but they were significantly less than housing.

“You can pay for internet if you’re desperate to feel like you’re contributing,” she goes on at my look.

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