Davis’s mouth tightened. It was clear he wasn’t pleased with her response. I wasn’t sure if it was because she’d put a ripple in his plans or the fact that she wasn’t going to be where he wanted her. His brows furrowed. “Call in.”
“I can’t. I have a client coming in. I have to be there,” she pushed.
“It’s okay. I can drop her off on the way.”
“You don’t mind?” Presley asked with concern.
“Nah, I don’t mind at all.” I reached over and gave Davis a pat on the shoulder. “You sure you’re up for a night at the Crown? It’ll be busy. Lotta noise. Lotta moving.”
“Sounds like my kind of place.”
“Then, let’s do this.”
“Hell, yeah.”
Presley lagged behind as Davis and I made our way down the hall and outside. They both piled into my SUV, and Davis was yammering away the whole time. He was playing it cool and lighthearted, but something was off.
But that’s how it was with Davis. The man came with too many red flags to count. Hell, they were sewn into his damn shadow. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I did, but I was tired of being forgotten.
I was tired of being angry and hurt.
I needed to know I’d tried, really tried, to make things right between us. And it seemed to be working. He’d been treating me like I fucking mattered to him.
I’d waited a lifetime for that.
It made the doubts easier to shove aside. He was my brother, my real brother, and no matter how hard I tried to tell myself that didn’t mean shit anymore, it did.
So, if there was even the slightest chance that we could fix what was broken between us, I would take it. And I would take it with no hesitation.
And I wasn’t about to be the one who walked away from his brother.
Not now. Not ever.
6
PRESLEY
Iloved my job.
I mean, I really, really loved it.
Some would say it was just cutting hair, but to me, it was so much more than that. Every day, I was able to go into the salon and give my customers a fresh new look that made them feel better about themselves. Seeing their eyes light up when they looked in the mirror warmed my heart.
And on top of that, I was able to work with the best group of people. They were both talented and sweet, and they weren’t just my coworkers. They were my friends, each and every one of them.
Which meant they knew when something was up with me.
And something was definitely up.
I tried telling them that it was nothing and I just hadn’t slept well, but they weren’t buying it. They kept pushing and pushing, but I kept blowing them off. I didn’t like lying to them, but this was one problem I would have to keep to myself.
After a while, they grew quiet, and I thought they were going to let it go. But just as my last customer walked out the door,Stephanie, my closest, most bull-headed friend, hooked a finger in the back of my apron and hauled me into the mixing room.
She shut the door and stepped in front of me like some off-duty cop who was about to bully a suspect. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I already told you.” I stepped back, hoping it might help me escape her wrath. “I’m just tired.”
“Bullshit.”
