“First?—you let her stay when your friend asked you to.”
“Not like I had much choice.”
“But you did,” Brooke said quietly, confused. “You’ve always said everyone has a choice. You could’ve sent them packing, turned them out. And of late, that’s the big brother I know. Second?—I’ve never seen you as angry or as volatile around anyone as you are around her.”
Again, he dropped his gaze.
“Which tells me you might be appropriately ticked off her at her, but you like her. A lot.”
“I—”
“No.” She silenced him with a hand. “Even when Marie took Jack and left, you were never like this. Never raised your voice. Never erupted. You’ve done exactly that on three occasions in just as many days with this girl. I don’t know how, but she’s gotten under your skin. For you to have slept with her, risked your career?—”
“I never slept with her.”
Brooke hesitated, questions dancing in her blue eyes.
“We didn’t.” He cocked his eyebrow.
“Regardless,” she said, apparently deciding her point was still valid, “she drew you out, engaged your heart. I’m not even sure Marie really ever did that.”
“You saying I was heartless with my wife?”
“I’m saying you’ve always had the plan, the goals. Your wife and one-point-two kids. Marie filled that plan. It was something you could control, something you could line up. A plan that helped you create order in the chaos of life.” She thumbed over her shoulder. “Brighton? She’s an unexpected element. Unpredictable. Beautiful and vibrant. But I have to be honest??—”
“Do you?”
“—I do not like how … small she acts when you’re around.”
“That’s what happens with a guilty conscience.”
“Then you should be cowering,” she chastised, settling on the chair. “I believe with Brighton it’s more than simply a guilty conscience. I think she truly feels terrible for what she did, and that’s because she’s crazy about you and hates that she can’t find a way back into your favor.” She smirked and shrugged. “And your arms.”
“Never happening.” Stone pushed his gaze to the window, refusing to entertain that.
“But you?” She got that devious look in her eyes. “I think you want it to happen. You really care about her or you wouldn’t have this anger. It’s all over your face.”
He stood and motioned her toward the door. “I need to get some work done.”
“Start with the much-needed work on your heart, big brother. Because I have a feeling that problem isn’t going away anytime soon.” She came to her feet. “And I swear if you do not stop yelling at her?—”
“When did you start caring?” The words were sharper than he’d intended. “That’s right?—you don’t. You just like to tell everyone how to live their lives when yours is a nuked mess.”
Hurt rippled through her olive complexion … something most people probably wouldn’t have noticed, but being siblings, there was little they could hide from each other.
With a sad smile, she started for the door. “That you attempt to redirect tells me I’m right.” She twisted the knob. “Tread carefully. Mr. Taggart said her pimp was one of the worst he’d encountered. You have a chance to help her. Don’t regret ignoring that.” She left and closed the door behind her.
Pimp. The word plunked in his gut.
But wait?—when had Cord and Brooke talked enough for him to tell her that?
Rowe tapped on the glass door and let himself in, an urgency in his expression. “Hey, Boss.”
“What’s up?”
“Thought I should mention it, but maybe it’s not my business.”
Stone waited.
