Page 33 of Building Courage

She drew a deep breath as she knocked on Martin’s door. When the door swung open, Tate’s already angry expression morphed into a smirk. He was almost too handsome. His hair too thick. His jawline too sculpted. His lips too perfect. However, the look of disdain and arrogance in his eyes spoiled all that masculine beauty. “What do you want?”

“I was on my way out and wanted to return this casserole dish.”

“Your pet is here, Babe,” Tate said.

Pet? He was such an asshole.

Martin stepped around Tate. Though she couldn’t see any injuries, he seemed flushed and unhappy. “Hey.” His whole body projected stress, and his expression was almost blank with anxiety.

“The pasta was wonderful, Martin. I just wanted to return the dish,” she said. “I’d love the recipe.”

“I’ll write it out and bring it over to you tomorrow. You’re going out?”

She held back an audible sigh. Why wouldn’t he break away from this asshole? Probably for the same reasons she’d missed the red flags waving the entire time she’d been with Chad. Love, or the hope for love, made you do stupid things. Being manipulated by a controlling bastard did as well.

She couldn’t leave Martin without backup if Tate was already on a tear. If something happened to Martin…

“Is it the hunky scuba instructor?” Martin asked.

“Yes. He’s invited me to dinner.”

“Again? That’s great. You need to go. You don’t want to keep him waiting,” Martin said.

Would he urge her to leave if he was worried that Tate was going to erupt into violence?

God, she didn’t know. Men’s egos were so mixed up with their sense of masculinity, even gay men.

“So, our young Brynn is on the prowl,” Tate commented as he leaned against the door in an artful pose he’d probably learned from Martin.

She bit back the words, I’m not a house cat, and said, “I’m testing the waters.”

Tate’s expression changed, and he chuckled. “That’s clever. A scuba instructor, and you’re testing the waters.”

Martin laughed, but it sounded forced.

“Well, I’m not sure I want to get in over my head yet, but I have to start somewhere.”

Tate laughed again, and she attempted a smile. He seemed to be more relaxed now and less confrontational.

“I could keep going on like this indefinitely, but Tucker will be waiting for me. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, Martin. I have some ideas for the photo shoot Natalie has planned for next week; I’d like to go over them with you.” There was no shoot, but she needed him to know she was there for him and for Tate to know she would check on Martin.

“That sounds good. Have a good evening.”

She nodded and started to walk away. Tate closed the door, and she stood to one side out of range of the peephole for a few minutes, listening for any sounds of trouble. All she could hear was the soft rumble of male voices.

She drew a deep breath and tried to release her worry. Martin was a grown man. She’d offered him help and support numerous times but couldn’t force him to take it any more than the people in her life could have forced her.

She’d given him a key to her apartment to provide him a safe place to escape if he needed one. She hoped he use it if Tate got out of control.

The elevator opened, and she looked back down the hall one last time before stepping in. She could only interfere so much before she became a target for Tate’s anger, too. She couldn’t take that on.

One quick stop along the way and forty minutes later, the female voice droned from her GPS, “Turn right in eighty feet onto Olive Tree Drive.”

Brynn sighed. How could anyone know what eighty feet was in a moving vehicle? But once she’d made the turn, she recognized some of the houses and gave a sigh of relief.

“You have arrived at your destination on the right.”

She pulled into Tucker’s driveway and parked. After she’d been here a few more times, she might even learn the route.

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