I wasn’t avoiding him. I had spent twenty minutes in the bathroom so far but I wasn’t avoiding him. Avoiding him would be walking out, putting my clothes on and sleeping in an extra room. Or not speaking to him while I put my clothes on and left the room. Avoiding would be — pacing around the bathroom for twenty minutes with absolutely no other reason to be in the bathroom.

I decided to blow it off as a normal bathroom break if he asked. I did my thing and leaned over to flush the toilet when something caught my eye in the trash.

It was the condom he had used. I blinked and flushed then turned away to wash my hands. Why was that even remotely interesting? It was just a condom. It’s not like I hadn’t seen him put it on. I wondered if he bought large ones. Were there extra-large ones? Seems like he would need jumbo size.

I smoothed down my hair and tried to convince myself for the hundredth time that I wasn’t avoiding him then my eyes snapped back to the trashcan. Something was weird about that damn condom.

I leaned over it to check again and heard a knock at the door.

“Andi.” Brock said.

“Uhm, yeah? Just using the bathroom, be out in a minute.”

I eyed the condom again.

“Yeah, something is going on at work and I have to go down there immediately to look in to it. It’s late so you should probably get some rest. I should be back before you wake up. Noah and Owen will be here if you need them.”

“Okay sounds good,” I said, sounding a little too chipper.

“Andi? Are you okay?”

“I’m good, just tired.”

“Okay,” he said softly. “I want to stay here with you. You know that, right? You’re always on my mind though. Always.”

“Go save the world James Bond. I’ll be here. If I’m not, I’m sure you can track me.”

I could hear him chuckle as he moved through the bedroom.

My eyes went back to the condom in the trash. I wasn’t an expert on condoms. Having never worked in a condom factory I wasn’t in the least bit knowledgeable. In fact, my two experiences with condoms when I was younger weren’t really experiences at all. Just seeing how one worked and how one looked like after sex.

Standing up I shook my head. Why was I fixated on this? Trying to make excuses not to go out there and tell him how I thought I felt? Was that it? This was some sort of self-preservation mechanism in which I was now willing to stare at a used condom as an excuse.

Because I was being un-Andi like.

Andi would go out there and punch him if he didn’t love me. Brock-loving Andi would push him on the bed and tell him what to do instead of the other way around. The Andi I was today, was instead acting like a scared teenager. Like the one I was four years ago and certainly not the one that travelled all the way across the country with a little boy in tow.

Something was weird about that condom though.

I picked up the trash and set it on the counter in front of me. I was SO not going to touch it. Which was a little silly because it was just us on it. My wetness and his cum.

I paused for a minute staring.

There was no cum in the bottom of the condom, that’s what was wrong with it. In fact, the entire thing looked clean. Did he get off at all? Had he faked it? Was I that terrible in bed?

I put the trash back on the floor and turned to the sink. I ran some warm water and splashed it on my face. I wasn’t going to think about it. Maybe he just didn’t cum for some reason that time. He seemed to enjoy it.

I dried my face off with a hand towel and walked out of the bedroom to find it empty. It was far too late to talk to him about it now.

Pacing, I thought about who to call. Kate would have been my first choice but she was likely asleep. I decided to text Liv instead, hoping that she wasn’t so exhausted from her day that she might be up reading.

Andi: Are you still up?

A few minutes passed before I received a reply.

Olivia: Yes, I was reading a steamy romance.

Andi: Any good?

Olivia: Very. How is your stay with the dungeon keeper? Locked in a room with no windows yet?

Andi: Hardly. I’m alive and breathing with windows. I have a confession and a question. Do you have time? I know it’s late. I didn’t want to bother Kate.

My phone started ringing. Oliva calling.

“Hello?” I answered.

Liv sighed. “If this is about your name being a little different and what’s happening I already know.”

“What?” I asked, a little surprised.

“Aiden. He tells me everything for the most part. If he doesn’t I pester the shit out of him until he gives it up. We were talking about Andrew or Drew, whatever, and I blackmailed the details out of him. Although I do want you to know I haven’t said shit to anyone else about it.”

I blinked and thought about that. If she knew some of the details then she might be the perfect person to ask about things.

“I’m sorry Liv. I just—”

“Before you say anything, I just want to tell you that I still love having you as a friend and that it changes absolutely nothing. Not a fucking thing. Your age doesn’t matter, the fact that you had to keep things secret and the things that you had to do for Drew are all good reasons for doing what you did.”

I remained silent and just absorbed what she was saying.

“Look, Drew was a kid. Sounds like you had a really rough night with whatever happened and to be quite honest your relationship with him sounds a lot like parenting. Drew adores you. The kid has been talking about you non-stop since he got here. If it was me, I would have done the same thing in a heartbeat.”

It was good to hear validation from someone about it. Especially from one of my friends that I admired for surviving her own personal hell.

“Liv,” I said a little shakily.

“When and if you decide to tell Julia and Kate, I know they’ll see it the same way. They’ll understand, I promise. Love is a powerful thing and we protect the ones we love, no matter what. Anything else, Miss Fugitive?”

I chuckled and took in a deep breath that I didn’t realize I was even holding.

“Uhm. How did you know you loved Aiden?”

I heard her start coughing loudly.

“Oh my gawd. Don’t drop that question while I’m drinking something. I think I just spit tea all over the couch. Are you asking for a reason?”

I ran a hand down my face. “Kind of. I mean, you know, nevermind, it was a stupid question.”

“Oh no, nope. You don’t get to squirm out of that shit. So, you’re in love with Brock?”

I rolled my eyes. “I don’t even know him that well. I don’t even know why I’m asking. He’s an idiot, he’s too nosy, he’s very bossy and he’s controlling. He chipped me, Liv! I’m on like some sort of tracker or something. I’m mad about it but I kind of understand in a way. I mean who does that? I don’t understand. The sex is good and he’s really nice but chipping someone? I threw a shoe at him earlier.”

Liv had been chuckling a little in the background while I explained things but after I paused she let out a full laugh and snorted.

“Sorry, Andi but this is fucking priceless.”

“Calm your panties over there. I’m seriously confused.”

She laughed one more time then sighed. “I can’t remember what particular thing made me love Aiden and I guarantee that if you ask Jules or Kate they couldn’t say either. I think you just know. Something happens. It could be something big or small but then it clicks and the more you fight it the bigger it becomes. What’s he like in bed? Does he pull out a manual or have a bunch of charts and instructions?”

I laughed. “No, and I’m not going to say.”

“Interesting response. Did he treat you well? You know what I mean.”

“Yes, he did. He was very attentive and he’s been very kind. Bossy, but he says things that make me feel like he cares, I think.”

She paused for minute. “Hmm, Brock and attentive. And Brock who was throwing a fit over here earlier because Aiden made him stay for a video meeting.”

I frowned. “When?”

“After they landed. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen him that pissed off. Or at all for that matter. He wanted to get home. Sounds a lot like he cares.”

I cleared my throat, not sure what to say about that. He had certainly wanted something when he had gotten home.

“Well, Aiden is giving me his weird face from the door. He’s either trying to indicate that the house is on fire or that I need to get off the phone. Sounds like the kiddo is up again. He’s exhausting some days.”

“Okay, sorry for calling so late. Hey, thanks Liv. For everything,” I said.

“No problem, Andromeda. You have the coolest name ever. I did some research on it. I have a feeling that Brock may be the best person to slay all those past monsters for you. Call me tomorrow.”

I smiled. “Okay goodnight.”

“Night.”

We both hung up the phone.

I crawled into bed, needing sleep. My questions were still rolling around in my head but at least for now they had been soothed by the comfort of a good friend.

Monster slaying. That was one way to put it.

I yawned and laid my head on Brock’s pillow. For once in a very long time I felt like I could truly rest.

* * *

Brock: Hey, I’m still thinking about you. Sorry I’m not there but there are some things I have to do. Don’t get angry.

I read the message again on my phone.

When someone said, “don’t get angry” it usually meant that you were likely going to get very angry about something and there was a good indication that something had happened.

I had been banned from watching TV by Owen and Noah all the next day, following my talk with Liv. For what purpose, I had no idea. I had a feeling something had happened that was all over the news regarding what Brock’s message was about but I was being left out of the loop for some reason.

The second day that Brock wasn’t at the house was a repeat of the previous day. The only exception was that I had ignored Owen and Noah all day.

Brock texted that I shouldn’t get worried. I ignored him.

The third day Noah and Owen took shifts watching me. Possibly bored but more than likely not wanting to be the target of my sarcastic anger all day long.

Brock texted that I should go swimming and that he was taking care of some things.

The fourth day I stopped being pissed and tried bribing Noah and Owen with promises of baked cookies if they would supply information. They bought the materials, I baked the cookies, but they were still silent on the whereabouts of Brock and what he was up to.

Brock texted that I just had to be a little more patient and asked why I wasn’t texting back. All of which I ignored. Then he called. Several times. I rejected the calls.

I called Liv, Julia and Kate. The calls rang but then went to a fast busy signal like their phones were disconnected. Four days without talking to my friends was one thing. Four days without talking to my brother was entirely different.

I tried to check the news on my phone and the pages kept going to 404 messages that said the page didn’t exist. Apparently, all news was unavailable and I was waiting to hear if there had been some armageddon event complete with zombie takeover of the entire planet. It was ridiculous but it was the only thing my creative mind could come up with in answer to why I couldn’t get out on the internet.

Owen and Noah seemed calm. Cautious around me but calm. They went in to Brock’s study once a day and I heard talking every time I walked by but couldn’t catch what they were talking about.

I read books. I went swimming in Brock’s small pool in the back. I got a tan. I dug through Brock’s nightstands. Went through his closet. Checked out his collection of Van Halen retro T-shirts in the bottom of his dresser. Not something I expected to find.

I cleaned his bathroom but only because I was tired of looking at the stupid condom in the trashcan.

The guys got suspicious when I asked for a needle and thread but handed it over anyway. I made good use of it by sewing all of his underwear together and stuffing it back in his drawer. Then came his socks.

By day seven I was done. The more time that passed since our last encounter, the more I completely began to dismiss my feelings for Brock. No one could be expected to love another person without contact or trust.

Trust. Something that he hounded on until I had given him the information he needed. Now I was just some past puzzle he had figured out and obviously not worthy of his time or trust in divulging whatever he was doing.

I regretted getting involved with him at this point. I kept ignoring his texts, which sounded more and more like excuses as they came over.

The thing that made me furious was his lack of understanding that I needed to know if Drew was still okay. One or two days, not speaking to him was allowing some freedom for him to have some fun at Aiden’s house. If he’d been at camp and none of this had ever happened I would have worried but not half as much as I was worrying now. I could ask Brock but it would be giving him the control to be my only funnel for information and I wasn’t willing to surrender on my “ignore Brock” campaign.

On day seven, which just happened to be today, Noah stepped out of the house on an errand. Owen had elected to take a nap on the couch after lunch.

I looked at Brock’s text one more time and slipped the phone into my pocket.

Sneaking through the hallway to Brock’s study door, I found it locked. My plans weren’t completely sidelined though. I was resourceful. I was Andi. Not the “un-Andi” I had been seven days ago.

Having had a few previous experiences with locked closet doors in my youth, unfortunately, I knew a few things.

First, they could be kicked open if you were angry enough about your parent’s punishments. Interior doors weren’t made of titanium or built like front doors and half the time were hollow. If the builder of the house was particularly picky they would use more expensive doors that were very solid. Despite the fact that I had lived in an expensive looking house, the builder had opted for the pre-fab, cheap doors that were easily punctured. Something I discovered and took full advantage of at sixteen when I had angrily kicked a closet door in my bedroom. The frame had been damaged enough that it had come open.

Owen was still asleep on the couch though and I wasn’t willing to test the theory on Brock’s study door.

Second, I knew that some locks could be fiddled with enough to pop the button on them in the knob. I had my parents to thank for that one too. I also knew that exterior doors were hard as hell to get into and I had never figured that one out. Thanks again to my parents for locking me out of the house once.

Last but not least, a credit card seemed to be the magical tool for nearly every last resort option on door locks depending on the type of lock. Membership cards, gym cards, whatever was available. That was knowledge gained, not by abusive parents, but by locking myself out of three different apartments. Terrifying but accurate and a good case against living in apartments.

I took my backup magical tool out of my back pocket and flipped it around. American Express, black card, and stiff. I was thanking Brock for this one because he had left it in a tray on his dresser. Probably a company card by the looks of it. Maybe I should thank Aiden.

I wedged it in the seam of the door by the knob and started to wiggle and slide it enough to bend the spring bolt. The card was stiffer than I thought and refused to bend where I needed it. Ten minutes of trying to wedge it in there wasn’t getting me anywhere.

I stopped and checked back on Owen while I bent and unbent the plastic.

My only other option was to try a different card. Trying one last time I managed to slide it in and wiggle it just enough that I could push the door open.

Now what?

I saw a computer on a desk with a monitor and several screens up on the wall that looked like TVs. There was a wraparound book case behind the desk and a door that looked like it exited on the back side of the house.

I shut the door quietly and walked over to the computer. It was on but when I turned on the monitor it had a password prompt.

Shit. Just my luck. The damn thing could have any number of possible passwords on it, none of which I could possibly get right.

I dug around in the drawers of the desk searching for clues. Brock wasn’t stupid, he likely wouldn’t keep his passwords written down but it was worth a shot anyway. There were two drawers full of miscellaneous items but the bottom drawer had a few files. I riffled through them searching for anything I could find. Most of them looked like employee files in some bizarre order.

I saw Angela’s name and took the folder out. More out of curiosity than anything, I flipped through it and found a few reports and a head shot that I assumed was for a security badge because it seemed rather bland. It had her background. Business school, and at one time, an owner of a small business called “Toppings”.

Of course, she went to business school and had her degree. That stupid business sounded like a strip club. Maybe that’s how she could afford the boob job.

Bleh.

I shoved it back into the drawer and tamped down my inner cattiness.

When I got to the back of the files I came across a folder with my name on it. My full name. Not Andi Jones.

I set it on the computer desk and hesitated. My fingers ran across the smooth surface on the file and tapped on it. What did I want to see or not see in the folder? He hadn’t been home long enough after all that had happened at the hotel to create this folder unless he had done it before he had left.

Had he brought it home with him after leaving Aiden’s house that night seven days ago?

Possible. Then again this was Brock. Had he had it for a while?

I opened the flap and saw a picture of me as an eighteen year old staring back. It looked like the one I had taken for the senior yearbook. I turned it over and saw another picture. One of me that was taken for my security pass at the clinic. I turned it over and saw a piece of paper that had my full name, parent’s names and vital statistics. I flipped another page and another and saw several reports all with information about either me, my brother or my parents. No dates on when he got the reports but all correct information.

I let out a loud sigh and closed the folder. He had known this entire time who I was.

Asshole. Lying asshole. Controlling lying asshole.