For The Taking - Brenna Aubrey Page 0,101

two guys looked at each other and when Derek opened his mouth to protest, I held up a hand. “No, you’re going. I’m not having a repeat of what happened last night. And I don’t care for how you speak to my wife. Let’s keep things, cool, yeah? We’ll spend time with you after work and on the weekend. We can take you out to Hollywood or to Disneyland.”

Kat entered the room with her bag slung over her shoulder on the tail end of my pitch. The look Derek gave her was one of pure hurt. “It’s okay with you that your husband’s tossing us out?”

She paused as she locked gazed with him and I saw something in her eyes, as if she were instinctually responding to Derek’s hurt feelings. Then she shook her head, as if snapping herself out of something. “Last night was too much. When you pulled out the pot, you made the decision that you weren’t appropriate guests to stay here.”

He took the paper but refused the money, saying he had plenty. Kat didn’t push it so I tucked it back into my wallet. “I’ll make us some dinner tonight. Give me your number and I’ll let you know when we’ll be home.”

Mike rolled his eyes and Derek gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Let us treat you, to make up for it. If this town has half-decent Chinese, I’ll bring your favorite. Cashew chicken.” He threw a tremulous smile at his sister as she held out her hand for his phone to program her number into it. I could sense it from here, her wavering.

But there was no way in hell I was allowing them back to stay so they could mistreat her as they had the night before. Otherwise I’d be putting him in a hospital for whatever shitty thing he’d inevitably do or say to his sister. This was all so weird. Kat, who took zero crap from any of the dickheads we worked with seemed to really have a soft spot for this deadbeat of a brother of hers.

The guys proceeded to gather up their things with a bit of muttering—mostly coming from Mike. Derek seemed more resigned to his fate. But gave Kat a hug on the way out. “See you soon, sis.”

Then he left, head drooping as he watched the ground dejectedly on the way out to the car. Kat watched him with unreadable blue eyes and a complex expression on her face. As if she had fifteen things racing through her thoughts at once.

I loaded the dog and an unusually quiet Kat into the car and, aside from Max’s constant panting and some road noise, the inside of the car was silent. We made our way down the broad boulevards of Irvine, all marked by artful dividers and carefully placed trees. Irvine was the quintessential planned community. Many lamented its lack of character but I liked the order that it presented. A clean, quiet city.

Kat hadn’t moved, one hand clenched into a fist, the other holding a phone that she scrolled through with her thumb.

“What’s up?” I finally broke the silence.

She took a deep breath in and out. “I’m searching for a local chapter meeting.”

I raised my brow. “Of…? Exasperating Red-haired Expat Canadians?”

She threw me side-eye, then hesitated, lowering her phone. “Al-Anon.”

I blinked. “Isn’t that for addicts?” Was there something she wasn’t telling me? Maybe she’d had similar struggles as her brother?

“That’s Alcoholics Anonymous—or Narcotics Anonymous, or various other organizations depending on the addiction. Al-Anon, Nar-Anon, etc. is for family members and friends of addicts.”

I blinked but didn’t look at her. “Oh.”

“I really think a meeting would do me some good right now.”

I raised my brow. “You used to go a lot? When you lived in Canada?”

She shrugged. “Yeah for a while. When I started college. I’d never heard of it and there was a chapter at my college campus. I started going and talking to others. It helped me feel less alone.”

I nodded. “I take it your parents never went.”

“My dad went to one meeting, declared it a bunch of bullshit and never went back. Mom refused altogether. They hate anything that might even remotely resemble tough love. They prefer the mollycoddling approach because that has worked so goddamn well with him.” Her voice was sharp and bitter—something I’d rarely ever heard.

I thought about their conversation that I’d overheard the night before, the way he’d moved up to her, grabbed onto her and was pleading her to do something for

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