34
The pounding in my head made it difficult to think straight. Done? Over? I thought we'd settled all this and that we were good.
"What?" I asked.
Brody took a moment to study me then and he came into the house, shutting the door behind him. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"Migraine," I mumbled.
He set the paper bag on the console table in my foyer and took my arm. He saw the washcloth I'd set on the coffee table and picked it up. "What's this for?"
"My head. A cool, damp cloth helps sometimes." I eased myself down on the sofa then lowered my head to the pillow.
"I'll be right back."
He disappeared into the kitchen and I closed my eyes, focusing on my breathing. Now that I'd gotten up and the pain in my head had exploded, I was nauseous with the pain.
The chilled cloth was laid across my forehead. I sighed. "Thanks, that feels great."
“When I called Sierra and told her I wanted to surprise you, she told me she’d sent you home but I didn’t realize you were sick."
“Yeah,” I whispered. "It hit me this morning."
“Then you need soup.”
I shouldn’t have been surprised that he remembered but I was. When I got migraines as a teenager, the only things I could keep down were soup, toast, and tea.
I put my hand over his, which was resting on my forearm. “What did you mean by its over?”
He hesitated so long that I didn’t think he was going to answer. Finally, he asked, “Are you sure you want to talk about this now?”
“Yes. Tell me already before my blood pressure shoots up from pure frustration and it gets worse.”
“Monica signed the paperwork today. Supervised visitation only.”
“You didn’t have to take her to court?” I asked. That was shocking.
“No, I only had to point out some things my investigator discovered over the last few weeks. Like the fact that she was drinking heavily, using illegal drugs, and hadn’t paid taxes since we split up.”
“How did he find out about the taxes? It’s not like the IRS announces that stuff.”
I could hear the suppressed humor in Brody’s voice when he answered, “Apparently, my investigator knows people who can find him information like that.” He cleared his throat and the mirth was gone when he said, “The PI is also pretty sure that she was doing that shit when Jacks was with her. I asked my daughter if Mommy seemed a little loopy sometimes and I was not happy about what I heard.”
Oh, my God.
“She was high or drunk or both when she was supposed to be taking care of my baby girl. She drove her around while she was out of her mind. Monica could have killed her.”
I hated that. And I wanted to hate Monica but I couldn’t. Well, not completely anyway.
“She’s sick, Brody.”
“I know but Jacks’ safety comes first. Especially when I confronted her about it and she said she was fine. That she just liked to have a good time once in a while.”
Yikes.
“And what about us?” I asked. It should have felt strange, having this entire conversation with my eyes closed and covered by a damp cloth, but it didn’t.
“It’s finished. If Monica cleans up her act, Jacks will see her more often. If not, then she’ll have supervised visitation until Jacks is old enough to drive herself to and from her mother’s.”
