Page 13 of Brood

Chapter Nine

I don’t stop, not even for a second, as I rush toward my car. It’s only when I reach the door and pull at the handle do I remember one key piece to my travels. My bag. “Crap,” I utter and shove myself into the car. My bag is still at Iris’ home just down the road from here. I know she and Eagle have already left the clubhouse, and I dread running into her while I take my chance to leave. She will no doubt try to talk me into staying just like Brood tried to.

tap tap tap

Knuckles rap along the outside of my closed window, making me jump slightly before turning to see who is standing next to my car. “I’m not staying.”

“I see that.” Brood’s voice is muffled from the closed door.

“I just need to get my bag from Iris’ house, then I’m leaving,” I explain to the brooding man, still not moving from my vehicle.

“You’d be best to wait until morning, there’s a storm coming.” Shaking my head, I’m about to tell him he is full of shit when a crack of lightning breaks the silence of the night. “See.” The universe is really kicking me in the ass.

“Fine.” I grit my teeth together. Driving in a rainstorm wouldn’t be so bad, except I hate storms. I push away the thought of Brood, knowing that little piece of information. “I’ll stay the rest of the night. But I’m leaving in the morning.” I reach for the ignition only to find the keys are missing.

“Keys are in the shop. It’s locked up for the night. You can stay at my place. Eagle and Iris are most likely celebrating tonight.” It’s more of a statement than an offer.

Swinging my door open, I say, “I’m not sleeping with you.” It falls out of my mouth without a second thought, and instantly I cringe.

“Wasn’t expecting you to, besides you aren’t my type.” He reaches into his pocket to grab something then looks down the street. “My truck is over there.” He nods in the direction of a black truck that I will have to use a ladder to climb in to. I’m about to protest when he pops something into his mouth and walks away from my car, right to the vehicle he was referring to. I sit there, debating on whether or not I will follow him as he starts up the deafening motor. I could just walk to Iris’ house, grab my bag and leave. I made sure to have a backup key in the bag in case of emergencies. I could be halfway to the coast by morning. Small drops of rain start falling across my windshield, and I already know what I’m going to do.

Accepting my fate, I get out of my car and walk over to Brood’s now running truck. It’s almost loud enough to drown out the cracking of thunder in the distance, only I still hear it. I try not to let it bother me, I’m not a child anymore, and there is no reason for me to be scared of storms. It just that, with each passing second, I find myself ten years old all over again, like I do every time I have to sit through a storm.

“Don’t like storms, do you?” he asks when we reach our destination.

“What? Why…why would you say that?” It’s a lame attempt to hide my feelings as we get out of the truck and make our way inside his home.

“Because you are about as pale as a ghost and shaking like a leaf. Come on.” Brood beckons me further into the house, leading me into a kitchen where he proceeds to turn every light on, along with some music that he turns up extra loud. “You a tea or coffee drinker?”

“What?” My eyes dart around the room, not hearing a word he asked. The small home is cozy and clean. Cleaner than I might have expected.

“What do you want to drink Jordyn?” Oh, he asked me a question.

“Nothing.”

“All right. Sit down then.” He gestures for the table placed to the side of the outdated kitchen and starts grabbing things from the cabinets. I don’t pay him any attention until he drops down into the chair next to me, placing two glasses and a bottle of bourbon in front of us. “I doubt you are legal to drink, but I think you could use one.” I watch as he unscrews the white cap then pours a small amount into both of the glasses before replacing the cap. He picks up the glass closest to him then pushes it against the other glass, making it slide along the table, closer to me. “Drink it, Jor,” he instructs. I grip the glass in my hand and swallow it down in one gulp, much like Brood does. We sit there while some country song croons about long lost love and second chances. Brood doesn’t ask any questions; he just keeps pouring more bourbon into my glass. He was right. About me not being of legal age to drink, but I’m no stranger to alcohol. I know it doesn’t go unnoticed. Brood still doesn’t question it.

“I got a spare bedroom upstairs. I’ve been renovating it up there, so it’s a little bit of a mess, watch your step.” He stands from his chair, taking the bottle with him as he goes. “You’ll be safe here,” he assures me, and I know he is talking about much more than just spending the night in his house. “Night Jordyn.” He doesn’t spare me a second glance as he shuts off the music and walks past me then down a hallway. I hear a door close then suddenly realize it’s quiet. The storm has passed, and I hadn’t even noticed.

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