I needed to protect him. From this. From me. I could already see how this would go if I told him the truth. He would be involved instantly, refusing to back down, refusing to let me handle it alone. He would make calls, ask around, dig into things he had no business digging into.
And then my father would notice. Then my father would see him. And then Brooks would be in danger. Just like Victor. Just like everyone I had ever tried to keep. A sharp pain pierced my chest, hot and suffocating, and I clenched my jaw so hard I thought my teeth might crack. I couldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t let him become another person on the long list of people who had been burned just by knowing me.
I had worked so damn hard to get away from this life, to build something on my own terms, away from my family’s wreckage. And Brooks? He was good. Too good. His world was full of stadiums and champagne and teammates who had his back. My world was full of shadows and phone calls from people who should still be in prison.
He didn’t belong in this mess. He didn’t deserve to be dragged into it. God, I cared about him too much. More than anyone. And that thought alone terrified me. This feeling? This wasn’t the casual attachment I was used to. This was something else entirely, something that made me lie without hesitation, something that made me choose to hurt him in the short term if it meant keeping him safe in the long run.
I forced my lips into a smile, too tight, too forced, but it was all I had. “Uh, nothing. I’m fine.”
His brows furrowed deeper. “Mitch, I just watched you hit your steering wheel like it personally offended you. Is it your car? Did something happen?”
His concern only made it worse, twisting my stomach with guilt, making the weight of the lie pressing against my tongue feel unbearable. Because I knew the truth. I knew that I would do this again in a heartbeat. I would lie to him. I would shut him out. I would keep choosing his safety over honesty.
And I would never regret it.
Because I could survive losing him. But I couldn’t survive him getting hurt because of me. Not Brooks. Not this man. Not when he was the only person I had ever felt this way about. The thought of him getting pulled into my father’s orbit, of something happening to him because of me, because I couldn’t just keep my head down and take care of this on my own?—
No. I wouldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t.
Swallowing the lump in my throat, I forced my voice into something resembling normal. “My car is fine. I—” Think. Think. “I didn’t do well on a test. I just got an email about it.”
He sighed, shaking his head, then reached through the window, squeezing my shoulder gently. “Can you retake it? Do you need help studying?”
The kindness in his voice made my chest ache. He was making the lie worse, making me feel it in places I didn’t want to feel anything. I swallowed hard, my throat raw, my hands still clenching the wheel like it was the only thing keeping me grounded. “Yes. I can retake it. I’ll schedule it tomorrow.”
“You’ll nail it. I know it,” he said with so much certainty it almost broke me. “Let me know how it goes, okay? If you need a night off…” He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’ll survive. Somehow, I will find a way to make it through without seeing you.”
My stomach clenched. “Yes. No, it’s… I’ll let you know.” My voice was barely above a whisper, my grip tightening painfully on the wheel. I forced myself to smile, even as it felt like I was swallowing an entire sock. “I’ll see you, B.”
The lines in his forehead deepened, but he nodded, waving as I drove away. My entire body was in overdrive, like I had just run a marathon and chugged two Red Bulls. My pulse was too high, my thoughts too frantic, too loud, too chaotic.
He knew where Brooks lived. He could hurt him.
That was it. I had no choice.
I had to call that number and find out what my father wanted. Then I could come up with a plan. That was what had gotten me through my entire life, and it had to work now. Determined, I sped home, the note still crumpled on the floor like a cursed object, sucking the air out of my car.
A million possibilities ran through my mind—money, drugs, blackmail, a place to stay. Or worse. Getting our lovely family back together.
By the time I pulled into my apartment building, my stomach was in knots, my hands clammy as I reached for my door handle.
Then I saw him.
Sitting on my steps, like he had been waiting for me.
Tall. Skinny. Shaggy brown hair and dark, familiar eyes.
Victor.
Fuck.
I never used to fear Victor. Even when he was reckless, even when he got into fights, stole things, made bad decisions, I had always seen glimpses of the boy who once protected me but that version of him was dead.
When he broke into my old place, high and out of his mind, something inside me shifted permanently. I saw the truth—I saw what our childhood had turned him into. And now, as I sat in my car staring at his slouched figure on my steps, I realized just how much that truth still terrified me.
Keeping my expression blank, I slipped my hand into my sweatshirt pocket, fingers wrapping around my mace canister, thumb resting on the button. My other hand stayed on my phone, ready to call for help if I had to.
I would not let him see my fear.
