Four Letter Word
Page 68

I was in a hurry. I needed to get this done so I could get to Tori’s and have dinner with Syd. She was expecting me right after work and I was hoping Mona wasn’t going to keep me long or give me shit about this.
I didn’t have time to argue, and it wouldn’t fucking matter anyway. I was going through with this, and nothing she could say would change that.
Mona was seated at her desk on the phone. She glanced up at the sound of my entrance and greeted me with a quick smile, then whispered something into the line, listening and disconnecting a second later.
“Brian, it’s good to see you,” she exclaimed with her usual kind voice. She pushed out of her chair and stood to round her desk but halted behind it when she saw me making my way across the room. “Though it’s a little unexpected. You were just here.”
“I know,” I muttered, lifting the bag off my shoulder and setting it on the desk. I looked her in the eyes. “Need you to do one last thing for me, Mona. This is it.”
Her shoulders slumped.
“I’m sure whatever it is, it’s unnecessary, Brian.”
I ignored her comment, it was typical and expected, then I pushed the bag in front of her.
“Need you to make sure Owen and his family get this,” I told her. “Can’t leave it at their house like I’ve been doing. Someone could take it.”
She stared at me, then lowered her gaze to the bag.
“What is it?” she questioned while sliding the zipper open. She pulled the flaps back and peered inside, her breath catching on a gasp. “Brian,” she whispered, looking up with caution flooding her voice. “Where did you get this money?”
“It’s mine to give,” I assured. “Didn’t do anything illegal to get it. Know that’s what you’re thinking and you don’t need to be thinking that. That’s clean money. I need you to make sure it gets to them.”
“It’s too much.”
“It’s not.” I shoved my hands into my pockets. “Not even close.”
Mona kept her hands on the duffle as she closed her eyes and breathed slow, conflicted, and pitying breaths.
I could argue with her for years over this, force my understanding onto Mona and will it to stick, and she’d still come back telling me I was wrong and this was excessive beyond reason. It was who she was.
Like Jenna and Jamie and Cole, she didn’t understand my fault or the guilt I carried with me. She couldn’t. No one could.
They weren’t there. They weren’t responsible.
They would never understand.
I could never give enough. I could never give them back what I took but I could do this.
I needed to do this.
“Mona,” I prompted, watching her eyes slide open. “Please.”
Her hands fisted the duffle.
“I just …I don’t know if you realize what this will mean to them or if you will ever know because you won’t allow yourself to feel that, Brian, and that breaks my heart and makes me incredibly angry at the same time. I could hit you with this bag for being so disjointed.”
Relief pulled across my shoulders.
“You’ll do it then,” I verified.
She shook her head in exasperation, answering, “Of course I’ll do it. My God, I wish I could do this for all of my families. This is an incredible gift.”
“Just make sure they don’t know it’s from me.”
Her lips pressed into a tight thin line.
Fuck.
“I don’t like doing that,” she informed quietly. “And I really think they should know where this kind of money is coming from. They will want to thank you—”
“They can thank me by taking the money,” I cut in brusquely.
“Brian,” she pleaded. “I really think—”
“Please,” I growled through my teeth. “Do not tell them.”
Mona flinched at my tone, closed her eyes, and nodded quickly.
Fuck.
I hated getting on her like that. She didn’t deserve it.
I reached out and placed my hand on top of one of hers and squeezed, prompting her eyes to open.
“Appreciate you doing this and everything else. Means a lot,” I said. “Knowing how you feel about what I’m doing, that means something, too.”
Her mouth relaxed and lifted softly.
“You’re a good man, Brian. I hope one day you’ll believe that.”
I gave an easy smile to appease her. I needed to get going and I had zero fucking time to argue that one.
Pulling back, I dropped my head into a nod.
“Thanks again,” I said.
Mona gave me one last smile.
Then I turned without giving that bag another thought and got the hell out of there.
* * *
I knocked again on the front door, this time a little louder, and stepped back, waiting to be let inside.
A muffled yell came from Tori’s house. I couldn’t make out what Syd was saying and I knew it was Syd since she was the only one here, her car being the only one in the driveway, so I tested the knob and it turned willingly, allowing me to ease the door open and step inside.
“Syd,” I called out, shutting the door behind me as my eyes scanned the room.
Tori’s house was fucking impressive. On the smaller side, but you could tell there was a lot of money in it and not just because of the ocean view.
The decorating was some fancy shit.
It reminded me of Jamie’s parents’ house. Everything was either dark oak or leather, and the art hanging on the walls looked like something Oliver or Liv could’ve painted, which meant it wasn’t just fancy shit, it was expensive shit.
“I’m in here! And I’m stressing out so just get back in your car and go home! This was a huge mistake!”
Laughing, I moved through the living room and around the corner where the noise was coming from.
It couldn’t have been that bad.
Syd was in the kitchen at the stove, bent at the waist with her head in the oven as thick smoke billowed out around her and into the air.
It was that bad.
“Shit!” she yelled, pulling a dish out and sitting it on the burner. She kicked the door closed and waved her hands over the charred remains, murmuring, “No no no no.”
“Babe.”
The smoke detector sounded loudly from the hallway.
“Oh, God, not again,” Syd groaned, covering her face.
Jesus. She was definitely stressing.
I fought a smile as I grabbed a dish towel off the counter, moved out of the room, and stood below the detector, reached up, disabled it, then took the towel and fanned the air to clear the smoke so it wouldn’t go off again.
When I stepped back into the kitchen, Syd was still standing at the stove, facing it with her head down, only now she was massaging her temples.
I came up behind her, wrapped my arm around her apron-covered waist, pulled her back against me, and dropped my head beside hers, breathing in the apple-scented shampoo she used in her hair.
“I don’t know what I did,” she admitted in a small voice, lowering her arms and gesturing at the dish, which at this point was unrecognizable, blackened, and still smoking.
I couldn’t make out what she was going for.
“I followed the recipe perfectly, double-checking my steps and the ingredients before mixing everything together, and I know I set the oven temperature right. I triple-checked that.”