I zoned out while Heath made small talk, responding on autopilot. I was fighting the constant urge to just crack open and spill my guts to him because maybe telling him would be the best way to let Creek know. Only I couldn’t do that to my brother.
Nash was right. I would have to talk to him. Just…not yet. Especially after today.
“…last week. You think he’d do it again?”
Oh hell. I grimaced. “I’m sorry. I lost you.”
Heath burst into laughter. “I knew it, but at least you admitted it. I said your brother rode on the back of an Orca last week.”
“Oh my god. I could totally picture that,” I said, unable to hide my giggles.
I felt strangely better, even though my anxiety ramped up as Heath pulled onto my street. Oh boy. I could see Nash’s car in the driveway. I’d been hoping he’d be running some errands, which would’ve given me a few hours before I had to tell him everything.
“Whoa, dude. You look pale. You okay?”
“Feeling a little sick. I think I need to lie down.”
Heath pulled up behind Nash’s car and put the truck in park. “Want me to walk you in?”
No. No I did not. Nash was going to be on me so fast. I did not need Heath getting suspicious. “I’ll be all right. Nash is home, so I won’t be alone.”
Heath hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah, all right. But if you need me, you know Creek and I are just a phone call away, right?”
The knot in my chest loosened a bit. I wasn’t ready to tell them. Not yet. But knowing I wasn’t alone was a nice reminder that when I did finally get myself untwisted from all of this, I would have a support system.
“I know. Thanks for the ride.”
He offered me a fist-bump, and my hands did not betray me as I knocked my knuckles against his. I could feel the weight of his gaze on me as I made my way to the front door, and the truck engine didn’t rev until the door was open and I was stepping inside.
I closed it gently, and the moment it clicked all the way shut, Nash was there, staring at me with a raised brow.
“Something happened.”
My eyes were suddenly hot again. Dammit, I was not going to break down in front of him. “Can you give me five minutes?”
His jaw twitched, then he nodded. “I’ll be in the living room when you’re ready.”
Just a few minutes. That’s all I needed. Then I’d come clean, and with any luck, he’d have some idea of what the heck I was going to do. Because I could barely afford to feed myself, and now it was going to cost me even more if I wanted to live.
CHAPTER SEVEN
NASH
Something was wrong. Really, really wrong.
I’d known it the second I’d seen Forest getting dropped off by Heath—and how on Earth had he gotten a ride from him? Heath was a PE teacher, and his high school was nowhere near Forest’s community college, so I had no clue how their paths had crossed.
Not that it mattered. Forest was home, and he wasn’t doing well. I’d been in the living room, doing some research into gluten-free recipes and foods that were known to have anti-inflammatory effects, when the RING alarm had told me someone was in the driveway. I’d watched on camera as he’d worked himself out of the car, a wince on his face, then as he said goodbye to Heath.
How had Heath not picked up on Forest’s pain? Or maybe he had, and he’d just ignored it, waiting for Forest to bring up the topic himself. He couldn’t know it was this serious, though I couldn’t help but wish he did. Keeping this from Creek did not sit well with me. At all.
But that was not my most pressing concern right now. Forest had more immediate concerns. I wasn’t sure what kind of bad news he had received—though I had a suspicion it was job-related, considering he’d been on campus—but whatever it was, it was bad. Really, really bad.
As much as I wanted to know what had happened, I couldn’t push him into talking about it. Not until he was ready.
So in the meantime, I sat in the living room and made a weak attempt at diving back into my food research as a hundred different scenarios ran through my head, none of them good.
How much more could Forest take when he’d been dealing with one thing after another? He had to be near his breaking point, from what I could tell. He’d said he didn’t usually cry, though I had some strong opinions on the thought process behind that apology.
