My breath hitched as a wave of nausea hit me. This was one of those times I hated myself for keeping my circle so damn small.
I needed a friend. I needed a place to go.
Brigham.
Shit. Brigham.
He was the only person I had left to turn to.
My hands fumbled for my phone as I moved toward my car, my heart pounding against my ribs, a relentless, unforgiving beat. I checked my mirrors, scanning the lot, scanning the street, scanning every goddamn shadow.
Was I being watched right now? I couldn’t tell.
The line rang twice before his voice cut through. "Hello?"
“Brigs.” My voice shook, and I hated it. “I need a favor.”
A pause. Then, without hesitation, “Name it.”
"Can I stay with you? Just for a night. Maybe two. I don’t take up much space. I just?—”
“Absolutely,” he cut in immediately, his voice firm, sure, unwavering. “Say no more. You okay?”
I almost broke down again.
"I will be," I said, swallowing hard. "Uh, weird request. Is there any way I can park in the garage?"
“With the beast?” His voice lightened just slightly. “Sure. I’ll make room.”
I exhaled, relief washing over me. “Thank you. Thank you, Brigs.”
Brigham was my only safe place now. The only person I could turn to without bringing more risk into their life.
Because Brooks? Brooks wasn’t safe anymore
My hands shook as I pulled out my phone, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. I checked my mirrors, scanning the lot, making sure no headlights flicked on, no figures stepped out of the shadows. I wasn’t being followed. Not yet.
“Things not going well with Brooks?”
I shut my eyes, picturing his broken expression, the way his voice had cracked when he told me he was falling for me.
“I’ll fill you in.”
Brigham let out a slow breath. “Shit, he do something to hurt you? I’ll kick his ass.”
"No, nothing like that. It’s a long story that will require beer, wine, or anything with a high alcohol content." My voice cracked, halfway between a laugh and a sob. "I’m a mess, Brigs. I’m sorry I’m not making sense, but I just... I need a shoulder."
There. I admitted weakness and I didn’t burst into flames.
“It’s about time I can be supportive of you. Get over here, and we’ll drink, talk, avoid—whatever you need, okay?”
Thank God.
He lived twenty minutes from the stadium, and I drove there, looking over my shoulder the entire time. My knuckles ached from how tightly I gripped the wheel, my jaw locked so hard it felt like I was grinding my teeth into dust.
Brigham was already waiting in the driveway, arms crossed over his chest, his brows furrowed in concern as I pulled in. His eyes scanned my face the second I stepped out of the car, taking in the dark circles under my eyes, the way my hands trembled against the strap of my duffel bag.
I didn’t even have to say a word. He knew.
