Her eyes widen when she sees the amount of the check. “Wow. You really did great at your cookie business.”
I chuckle. “Read the letter. Is the money legal?”
After reading the note, she answers, “I’ll make some calls.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Ryker
“Thanks for coming with me,” I whisper into Bree’s ear as we walk through the doors to the Make-A-Wish Gala. A charity near to my heart, no matter how screwed up my life is, I’d never miss this. I wish Aspen was here though.
“I know how much this means to you,” she replies, resting her head on my shoulder.
I nod, remembering the reason I’m here. Garrison Reid. My best friend. My teammate since peewee football. When we were Juniors in high school, they diagnosed him with a rare form of leukemia. Watching his life drain from his eyes in front of me was the worst part of my childhood. But for a moment in time in his last days, it was as if nothing was wrong and we were back to being carefree assholes living the life. Make-A-Wish sent both of us to an NFL football game, front row seats and passes to meet the players after.
That day changed my life. Even at the young age of seventeen, I knew what the wishes meant to people, and I made a promise to Garrison to do everything in my power to help the charity in his name.
We stop as a camera snaps a picture and continue walking as if we hit a speed bump in the road. I’m so numb to the process, it doesn’t faze me anymore. Stop. Smile. Walk.
As the night progresses, I hate that my mind can’t stay in this room. Ever since I returned from seeing Aspen a couple days ago, I can’t concentrate on anything. It’s ridiculous. The intense desire to be with her is killing me. I don’t know if I should have offered to be there by her side as she navigates through the toughest thing she’ll ever go through or give her space. I chose to give her space, but fuck if I’m not regretting it now.
Clapping and an elbow to my side brings me to the present. I clap along. “Stop clapping,” Bree whispers through a clenched teeth grin. “This is for you.”
Oh, shit. I paste a smile on my face and give a quick wave. My body temperature spikes and I can feel sweat break out on my back, but I try to remain calm.
“We thank you for your donation, Mr. Dallas,” the speaker says. I smile and tap my hand over my chest. As soon as the speaker moves on to the next donor, I lean over and murmur, “What did I miss?”
“A whole montage of how you helped five families this year with their wish from your donation.”
Shit.
She sighs. “I hope she’s worth it.” Her voice drips with disappointment and I grit my teeth, biting back the words that want to slice her open. She might be my public relations assistant, but she’s replaceable.
I don’t need her two-cents opinion on Aspen. She’s not up for discussion.
“Sorry,” she whispers, dropping her chin. “I worry about you.”
“When it comes to Aspen, don’t,” I clip, not able to hide my irritation. Tight-lipped, she turns her attention to the speaker. When her eyes fill with tears, I feel like an asshole.
It’s not the time or the place to have this discussion, so I let it go. It’s better we not have it now with emotions running high.
“We need to talk,” I say to Bree.
She kept quiet the rest of the night. We just left the gala and the awkward silence between us needs to end. Right now. She unfolds her arms from her rigid posture in the seat next to me, clasping them in her lap as she stares at me with expectation. I don’t know what she thinks I’m about to say, but sorry isn’t one.
“She is worth it,” I say with finality so there are no more questions, and then add, “now, we’re moving on to how to deal with the situation.” Aspen told me she’d be meeting her parents this week, so news will hit the fan any day now. Bree’s body doesn’t relax, her hands twist in her lap. “Is this a problem, Bree?”
She stares forward, and I can tell she’s saying so much more in her head than what is coming out of her mouth. After a few moments, she shifts her body toward me, her knee bumping mine