“Whitney—” his voice cracks, and he clears his throat. “I want to be honest with you,always. Even if it’s something that I know you don’t want to hear.”
Number 2: Honesty
My stomach rolls as I gauge his facial expressions. I can see this is paining him a lot, which makes the anticipation of what he’s about to say so much worse. Theo braces himself, squares his shoulders, and then delivers the blow. “We suspect that Vance Peterson was listing properties for significantly higher amounts than he was reporting to the company. And then pocketing the difference.”
The floor seems to fall out from under me; my ankles go weak, toppling me over in my seat and I put my hand out to brace myself from falling sideways. My head spins, and blood rushes through my ears as Theo’s words play on repeat through my mind, jumbled and disorganized.
Vance Peterson—Listing properties—Higher amounts—Pocketing the difference.
My lungs struggle to take in enough oxygen, and I clutch at my chest, trying to force my brain to regain my normalbreathing pattern. Vaguely, I recognize that Chase and Theo have moved to crouch on either side of me. A hand runs down my spine until it rests against the small of my back. I suspect it’s Theo.
I blink a few times, still unable to focus on my surroundings, reeling in the aftermath of the shots Theo fired at me.
This can’t be true.
He wouldn’t.
He couldn’t.
Flashes of growing up with Mr. Peterson explode behind my eyes, and it makes everything worse. I can see his kind face, the way he would toss his head back and laugh. I can feel his comforting arms wrapping around me and giving me the kind of hug only a protective parent knows how to give.
And to find out that he was not the man I thought he was? Devastating.
“Mr.—Mr. Peterson?” I finally choke out.
Theo’s left hand applies pressure to my lower back. I realize he’s come to kneel by my side. I didn’t even see him move but now that he’s near, it provides a hint of comfort. The fingers on his right hand catch under my chin, and he draws my eyes to him. His eyes bring a sense of ease, as though I’ve found myself in the eye of the storm. Everything stills around me as I stare into his warm, brown eyes.
He searches my face and then releases me before drawing me into his arms and holding me close. I bury my face against his chest and squeeze my eyes shut, willing the memories to stop rolling through my mind.
Theo’s hand cups my head. His chest rumbles as he says something to his brother. Distantly, I hear the familiarclickof his office door closing.
Theo holds me for longer than I can measure, and Iclutch myself to him desperately. My mind buzzes, but I hold onto Theo as if he’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
I finally gather the energy to push myself up until I’m standing. I still feel hazy, like my head is full of cotton or I’m running in slow motion. “I think I need to—” I shake my head, trying to alleviate the echo the sound of my own voice creates in my mind. “I need to go home.”
“Okay,” Theo says, reaching his hand out to me. A part of me knows the day is finished anyway, but it feels like a huge request. “I’ll call a car for you.”
I shake my head again. “I drove. I’ll just drive home.”
“Whitney, please let me call a car.”
“No, I can drive.” I really just wanted to go down to my car, away from Theo, and cry.
“I don’t think that’s?—”
“Theo,” I gasp. I want to scream at him to let me be, but I don't have the energy. Something in the way I speak his name has him stopping his protest. His shoulders drop, and he nods, defeated.
“Can I come over later? After you’ve had some time?”
I massage my fingertips into my temple, where I can feel the telltale throbbing of a headache coming on. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”
“Please, Whitney.” Theo’s voice cracks again, and I close my eyes, feeling my chin waver.
“I just need to be alone for a little bit,” I say. When I look at him, he nods once and then takes a step back, letting me stand and move past him.
I don’t say another word as I walk out of his office and over to my desk to gather my things. My body feels numb, even as I take the elevator down to the parking garage. Thankfully, no one else steps on, which is a small miracle, given that it's the end of the workday.
When I get in my car, I fall against the seat and try to focus on my breathing.
