Page 64 of Girl Going Nowhere

I don’t hate it, though, and that scares me.

As if he knows what’s going through my mind, he grabs my hand and threads our fingers together, resting them on my bare stomach. “Get out of that pretty head of yours. Everything is going to be okay.”

I know he’s not just referring to the mess I have to deal with outside of this apartment. He means us. The dynamic we’ve built.

Everything will be okay.

Brodie has never made me feel like I couldn’t trust his word, so I allow myself to settle into him and soak up the body heat that hugs me. Closing my eyes, I feel his finger gently brush the back of my hand to coax me into a subtle oblivion.

I wake up sometime later to two strong arms picking me up and carrying me away. Still sleepy, I curl into the bare chest holding me and make a noise of protest when I’m set down. A quiet chuckle is the response I get before the bed dips beside me, and those arms are back.

For the second time in a night, I fall asleep being held.

When I wake up to an alarm that’s not mine, it’s in a bed that’s not the lumpy old mattress I brought with me, in a room that I’ve never slept in before. Brodie is asleep beside me, one arm still curled around me with the other draped over his face.

I turn on my side and let myself enjoy a little more time in the safe bubble Brodie built around us. Who knows how long it’ll be before it pops.

For once, I hope it’s not me holding the needle when it does.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Dante

The man inbed beside me stirs awake, reminding me where I am and how much I drank last night. Groaning, I pinch the bridge of my nose and sit up, fighting the nausea in the pit of my stomach. There are two tablets of Motrin by a glass of water on the hotel nightstand that I definitely didn’t put there before passing out.

From the other side of the bed, I hear a muffled, “Take them or you’ll regret it later.”

Looking from the pills to Finn, I frown. He’s tangled in the sheets looking as exhausted as I feel. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

He hums, turning to face me. I remember enough about last night to know he’s not wearing anything under the covers. “But you did, and I’m here.”

He rarely takes time off work for anything. But he did for me.

Palming my face, I take the pills to help the headache pounding in my temples. “It was fucked up. I’m sorry.”

Eventually, Finn sits up too. The sheet drapes around his torso as he stretches, cracking his neck and watching me down the rest of the water. “No need to apologize.”

We sit quietly, listening to the bustle outside our room.

“You told me it was Rafael,” he says, bringing up the drunken voicemail I left when I dialed him. “We need to talk about that since you wouldn’t last night.”

Jaw ticking, I get out of bed and slide on my briefs to hide the boner I have despite the hangover taunting me. “What the hell do you want me to do?” I turn toward him, fisting my shirt in my hand. “If I say something to the wrong person, I could make it worse for Blake. You got her a lawyer for a reason. It’s her job to figure out how to fix this.”

Finn stares at me. “Isn’t it her friend’s job to make sure she’s okay, though?”

I pick up my phone and see multiple missed calls and messages from Finn, Brodie, and a few other people who’ve been trying to track me down. There are a few voicemails from numbers I don’t know that have me glad my battery is nearly dead.

All I tell Finn is, “She’s always been your friend. Not mine.”

It’s a dick thing to say, but not entirely untrue. The boys have been closer to Blake than me all these years. Sure, I fucked her. But it was never beyond anything physical.

I don’t want her life going to hell because of what my brother did, but my brother is the only family I have. Even though I’m pissed off at him, I don’t know if I can shut him out completely.

Finn gets up and grabs his clothes to redress. “I know you and Blake aren’t friends, but I thought I knew you better than that.”

Out of everybody we live with, he’s the only person who knows me. “It’s complicated, Finn.”

He tucks his wallet into his back pocket and looks at me. “I don’t know Rafael that well, but there’s something about him I don’t trust. He’s working with some intense people who will tear anybody down to make sure he gets to the top. What other motive would he have by letting that story run? Who’s to say he won’t do that to you if he got something worth sharing?”

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