but my stomach’s sudden summersaults say otherwise. “I had no idea my employment status was fodder for gossip.”
“It’s not like that. Just with Brogan, we all . . .” He shrugs. “We all worry about you.”
Sure they do. They worried enough to show up to my brother’s funeral—an endless line of broad shoulders in black waiting to shake my hand and avoid my eyes. And after that? Nothing. “You could visit him, you know.”
Chris flinches and averts his eyes. “It’s just . . . hard.”
“You should visit.” I stare at him until he meets my gaze again.
He nods. “Yeah. You’re right. Okay. We’ll go this week.”
Satisfied, I nod and turn to leave. “Excuse me.”
“Go put that basket in the laundry room and put on your swimsuit. Join the party.”
“I couldn’t. Arrow wouldn’t . . .” The rest of the words fizzle away as Arrow walks up behind Chris, his hands in his pockets, his eyes on me.
“Arrow wouldn’t what?” he asks, making Chris turn.
“Nothing.” I take advantage of the moment to push out of the bathroom and past both men.
Chris says something to Arrow, but I can’t make it out. I keep walking.
I’m hanging clean towels in the master bathroom when I sense someone behind me.
“Come to the party,” Arrow says, his voice low.
“I’m working.” I keep my head down. I can’t look at him. For the first time since I took this job, I feel shame for being the hired help. Which is bullshit. I work hard and pay my own way. Always have. Always will. That’s nothing to be ashamed of.
“You’re the nanny, not the maid.”
I open the cabinet with more force than necessary, and the handle clacks against the wall. “What, are you in charge of my job description now?” From the baby monitor clipped to my hip, I hear Katie fuss. “I need to check on the baby. Go back to your friends, Arrow.”
I don’t turn until I hear him leave, and then I stop in the doorway and lean my head against the wall, breathing deeply. Even though I just gave Chris a hard time about never visiting Brogan, I’ve been relieved not to have to face the team. Having so many of them here is too much of a reminder of how things used to be. Before. And it’s too easy to give in to the game of what-ifs. What if I hadn’t asked Nic to come get me? What if I’d told Brogan the truth? What if I hadn’t left with him that night? What if I hadn’t let Arrow comfort me when I was hurting?
I hate that game. It’s painful and pointless.
Arrow
The worst part of having a party at my house is that I can’t just leave when I’m done with it. I was done with this party about twenty minutes after everyone arrived. Not a party, I mentally correct. I’m not allowed to have parties. But the judge encouraged me to “keep company” with people he deems a good influence. Namely, the guys from the team. The ones I let down.
I don’t even know how to be around people without being trashed anymore. House arrest comes with those fun little piss tests, though, so my using days are behind me. Drugs and booze never offered the oblivion I was looking for anyway. Some demons can’t be escaped.
Keegan came back not long after I kicked him out, and I took his apology with a silent nod. “You can talk shit about any of us,” Chris told him, “but Mia’s off-limits.” And I was grateful he said it so I didn’t have to.
“Lemme stay,” Trish says now in a drunken slur. She smells like whiskey and is dressed in a skimpy bikini top and a pair of jean shorts that show more ass than they cover. She’s always tried a little too hard around Brogan, but it’s like I’m her substitute now, and lately she uses any excuse she can to get close. Like tonight when she tagged along with Keegan, making him think it was a date until they arrived and she changed her tune.
“Not a good idea,” I say, taking a half step back.
She snakes her hand into my shirt and curls her lips into a smile as her fingers skim across my abs. “You won’t be sorry.” She lifts onto her toes and presses her mouth to my neck, and I want so badly to feel something, anything, that I knot my hand in her hair and yank her head