She sucked in a long breath. This wasn’t just about her. Brooke was a victim here, too.
“I’m sorry,” she said when Brooke returned. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” Brooke swept past her to the kitchen. A drawer opened and shut. “He means well, you know. And he’s worried about us.”
“I’ll apologize tomorrow,” Jo offered. Aaron wasn’t a bad guy. He’d been good to and for Brooke, but the residue of tonight’s fiasco with Preston had left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Fuck, I need wine.”
“Nah.” Brooke plopped down next to her, one jean-clad knee tucked against her chest. “This calls for the hard stuff.”
Holding two pints of ice cream, she handed Jo a pint of her favorite, a spoon sticking out of the rich creamy vanilla.
In unison, they pulled out their spoons and clinked them together in a tinny toast.
“Cheers,” Brooke chimed.
“Cheers,” Jo echoed, finding comfort in the ritual they’d picked up in fifth grade when Jo’s grandma had let her spend the night with Brooke on New Year’s Eve. She’d marveled that they were allowed to stay up late and have sundaes at midnight.And as the ball dropped, Brooke’s parents had toasted with champagne, prompting Brooke to tap her spoon to Jo’s. From that moment on, it was their thing.
“So, what’s going on?” Brooke asked around a mouthful of strawberry cheesecake swirl.
Jo sank deeper into the thick cushions, one of the reasons they’d picked out this ugly couch. That and it was the only one they could find within their budget that wasn’t broken or infested with bedbugs. “Duh, we just got robbed.”
“That was not the Jo I know. That was full-on crazy town. Did something happen tonight?”
“Tell me about the break-in first, then I’ll tell you about crazy town.” Jo dug into her ice cream.
“Not much to tell, really.” Brooke shrugged. “We were out all day. I got some gorgeous sunset shots at the waterfall wall. That place’ll be great for my engagement pics—um, for future clients.”
Pictures.Jo sucked in a sharp breath and swung to take in Brooke’s flushed face. “Oh, my god, I haven’t even asked. Did they get your equipment?”
“No,” she said, spoon pausing halfway to her mouth, “but I almost didn’t take the case with me.”
“Good thing you did.” Tension drained from Jo’s tired muscles. Losing that camera and the lenses she’d collected over the years would have devastated Brooke.
“Yeah, I don’t know what made me change my mind.” Brooke shook her head. “Anyway, we got back around nine and the door was open. We called the police, and that’s that.”
“I’m glad you weren’t here when they broke in.” Jo shuddered, and her stomach rebelled against the sugary concoction she’d just swallowed. If anything had happened to Brooke…
They’d been inseparable since kindergarten, always there for each other. Jo had held Brooke’s hand when her parents divorced. Brooke had done the same for Jo when her grandma died, and then again when Jo was forced to leave the only home she’d ever known and move in with a father she barely knew and a family who resented her presence.
As soon as she and Brooke saved enough money, they moved to Houston to escape their dysfunctional families and a small town dying a slow economic death. Brooke dove into building a photography career, working for a local studio, while Jo used every last dime her grandma left her to attend the culinary institute and worked nights to help pay rent.
After Jo graduated from the institute and found a better-paying job, they moved out of the tiny one-bedroom shithole apartment into a bigger two-bedroom, only slightly less shitty one. Jo still slept on a mattress on the floor and used tubs for a dresser. Thrift shop scavenger hunts had provided a comfortable couch, a coffee table, and a small wrought-iron table with a glass top and four chairs meant for patio dining.
They didn’t care. They were living their best lives, working toward making a better one, working toward their dreams.
Brooke waved the spoon in the direction of their surrounding neighbors. “Of course, no one in the building saw anything.”
Jo rolled her eyes. “No surprise there.”
“The weird thing is, the cops said there was no damage to the door, and all the windows were locked. Whoever it was had to be good at picking locks or had a key.
“You and I are the only ones with keys.”
“And Aaron.”
“Right.”
“And creepy Lambert,” Brooke added.
