Chapter Twenty-Five
Trent ended up hospitalized almost two weeks, fighting an infection that had settled in one of the supposed minor cuts on his arm. Kayla stayed in his loft with Melody and Taylor during that time, fighting the urge to panic every time her phone rang, assuming it was more bad news from his doctors. He was released on a Thursday afternoon, and both he and Melody had insisted that she stay with them through the weekend.
Friday morning, she got up early and made a big pancake breakfast, complete with fresh fruit and maple syrup. As they all sat, basking in the fall morning sunshine streaming through the wall of windows and sipping the dregs of their coffee, Kayla began to feel like she was a part of something—part of a family—that might be the real deal.
“What’re you smiling about?” Melody asked her as she walked around collecting the mugs.
“Oh, nothing.”
“Nothing, huh? Does his name start with a B and rhyme with rock?”
“What? No…I mean. I wasn’t thinking about him right then, anyway.”
“When’s the big date?” Taylor asked over the top of her tablet.
“What date?” Trent asked, his voice still raspy from smoke damage.
“None of your business. Actually. I should go.” She got up, nervous in the face of Trent’s glare, her wellbeing of a few moments prior dispersed into the ether.
“Wait. Sit down a minute. We need to talk.”
“I have to get to work,” she insisted as she helped load the dishwasher. “Tell your wife to sit down. She looks tired.”
“Stop trying to distract me, damn it.”
Melody nudged her. “Go on. Let him get it off his chest. Then you can go. You’re not opening today.”
She sighed, wiped her hands on a dishtowel and made her slow way back out to the main loft room, where her brother sat in one corner of a huge leather couch, his feet up on the ottoman. He was thin and wasted after his two weeks on hospital food and IV drugs. The sight of him lacerated her heart with guilt. She sat on the ottoman next to his feet and folded her hands in her lap, willing to listen to him. She owed him that much at least.
“That’s more like it. Jesus, you women are going to be the death of me.”
“Ha, yeah, literally,” Taylor quipped.
He glared at her then focused on Kayla. “I found a place for you to live.” He turned his computer tablet around so she could see the screen. “Go on, scroll through the pictures.”
She did, already formulating arguments in her head. After a few seconds, she glanced up at him, confused. “Did you hit your head while you were playing hero-rescuer or something, baby brother? These are pictures of this place.”
He put his hands behind his head, looking satisfied with himself. She frowned down at the tablet again. “I don’t get it. Sorry.”
Melody appeared in the doorway, hand on her baby bump, which had grown in the past few weeks. “We’re moving. I wanted a house and a yard and all that comes with it. I found one. We made an offer and we’ll be moving in about a month.”
“You’re…moving?”
Taylor grinned at her. “Yeah! I get a whole princess suite and shit for my last year home before college. Can you stand it?”
“I’m going full McMansion again, I’m afraid,” Trent said, holding out his hand to his wife who slid into his lap. “Anything for mi esposa, here.” They kissed. Kayla rolled her eyes at Taylor then cleared her throat. He pulled away from her with an even wider grin. “But this time, it’s a renovated older home, so it comes with character as opposed to crappy construction.”
Melody moved to sit beside him and took the tablet from Kayla’s hands. “We want you to have this place. It’s perfect, no?”
“I’m… I can’t…”
“Yes. You are and you can. And by dint of me almost dying to save your non-existent ass in that fucking flop house, you will not argue with me. Got it?” His eyes glittered at her.
“I’ll think about it. I mean, it’s such a kind offer. Too kind. You don’t have to… I mean, couldn’t you make a ton of dough if you sell it? I hear the market is smoking hot for this kind of hipster paradise.”
“I don’t need the dough, sister dear. What I need is to know you’re living somewhere safe, within a ten or fifteen-minute drive of me and my growing familia.” He ran his hand across Melody’s tummy.
“I…don’t know what to say.”
“It’s easy. Say—Thank you hero brother of mine. I will take you up on this offer and, in the meantime, will continue to camp out in the extra bedroom.”
“You’re trying to bribe me out of being mad at you for…” She glanced over at Taylor, who was ignoring the annoying adults around her. “You know.”
“Perhaps. But as I said, I am now beyond the reach of that potential error of judgment, remember?” He pointed to the bandage covering the hole the EMTs had to cut into his throat so he could breathe.
“Look at it this way,” Melody said, leaning into Trent and draping one of her long legs over his. “This place has tons of room for…more people.”
She blushed fast and hot. “There won’t be any more people, Melody,” she insisted. “And like I said, I’ll think about it. But I’m not staying here for another month, underfoot. This may be a palatial lofty mansion but it’s not big enough for four and a half of us.” She winked at Melody. “I’ve found a temporary place and I can afford it so allow me the dignity of doing that, at least, while I decide what to do about your too-generous offer.”
Trent waved her off. “Fine. Fine. Think all you want but in a month, this will be your new address, mark my words, Kayla.”
She pecked the top of his head, patted Melody’s shoulder and gave Taylor a quick hug in passing. “I’m moving into my extended-stay hotel tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow, Melody. Brother, you rest up. Doctor’s orders. No master of the universe bullshit for a few days.”
“I’m just sitting here, master of my own universe right now, K.” His eyes were bright.
She nodded, her chest tight with emotion at the sight of him, happy at last with a woman who could handle him and a daughter who handled them both.
An hour after she started her shift, Brock wandered in, laptop at the ready. He’d been hanging out at the bar a lot while she was there, not talking to her that much but soothing her with his presence. They had talked about one thing—their commitment to the Boys and Girls Clubs. She’d already been through the volunteer approval process and went two evenings a week to mentor a couple of teen girls who thought they were the hardest asses around. It was a buzz, getting to know them and letting them know that they didn’t have to be so tough all the time. She’d gotten them interested in drawing. Since she’d lost her old sketch books in the fire—her only truly valuable possessions—she’d been filling new ones like crazy, inspired by the renewal of her friendship with Brock.
She smiled and waved at him from her spot at the line of beer taps, watching as he got himself settled in, chatting with everyone around him. When she had a few minutes to spare, she leaned on the bar, taking in the spreadsheets on his computer screen. “Looks super boring,” she said.
“It is,” he admitted. “Boring data. But necessary. I want to allocate the foundation’s funds fairly and I am inundated with requests, now that my passel of magical interns has gotten us so much damn publicity.” He shut the laptop and gazed at her. “So, about our date.”
Kayla flinched. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t been fantasizing about that very thing for a couple of weeks. But hearing him say it shot a bolt of anxiety all the way through her. “What about it?”
“How about tomorrow?”
“I can’t, Brock. I’m moving into that place I told you about. The extended-stay motel thing.”
“Those are expensive. I wish you’d let me pay…”
She held up a hand. “I won’t. Please don’t waste energy saying any more.”
He fiddled with his coaster. “Well, then, how about this? I’ll make us dinner at my place.”
“No. I’m not quite ready for that yet.” But her skin prickled in pleasant anticipation of it in spite of her base knowledge that it would never happen.
“Fine. I’ll pick up sandwiches and bring them to your new digs.”
“You are desperate,” she said, enjoying the light flirtation. “But I thought I was getting the super-expensive dinner thing. Why can’t we just postpone that a little while longer?”
She had her hand on the bar next to his computer. When he picked it up and pressed her knuckles to his lips, she shuddered, but not out of any fear or anxiety. Out of something else. Something she had zero frame of reference for. Something anticipatory, scary, but pleasant.
“Because I’m done waiting. I’m ready to pick things up where we left them the night before the wedding.”
Kayla’s mouth dried out at the sudden, crystal-clear memory of their kiss. She blew out a breath and tried to reclaim her hand but he held on tight. His eyes were shining in a way that made her warm from the inside out. “You’re terrible,” she said, for lack of anything more coherent.
“Guilty. But also persistent. So…what are we doing for our date tomorrow eve, fair lady?” He let her go and leaned back in the bar chair.
She crossed her arms but figured he could tell how flustered she was. “Fine. Tomorrow. Bring dinner to my place. I’ll text you the address.”
Brock’s boyish, handsome grin widened as he propped his elbows on the bar and motioned for her to move closer. After glancing around as a stalling mechanism, she leaned into him, getting a whiff of his soapy-clean scent. “I want you to make the first move again, okay?” His whispering breath blew against her ear. He grazed the edge of her jaw with a fingertip then withdrew, opening his laptop and focusing on the screen again.