Page 15 of The Hang Up

He laughed, and I wanted to hold on to that sound. Capture it. God, if I could sell it as a happiness-inducing drug, I’d make billions. But I already had billions. What I really needed was more of his laughter. The happiness shining out of his eyes, if only for a moment. What the fuck was wrong with me?

“Are you going to share it with me?” I asked as I cleaned up the mess I’d made.

He tilted his head and his eyes studied something behind me. He was a mixture of bold determination and nervousness that had me unsure of what to do next. Because kissing him wasn’t an option. I was here as his friend. Then his eyes returned to me, and he said, “Which version do you want? The lie I told myself or the truth?” My pulse jumped at his honest words. Did I want to hear them? When I didn’t respond immediately, he said, “I don’t have anyone else to talk to.”

I clenched my hands in my lap to keep from reaching for him. I wasn’t in charge here, and it was hard as fuck remembering that. “Is that the lie or the truth?” Again, I joked to put him at ease. The sadness radiating from him was shredding me. It had been a while since I’d felt this helpless. Not since—but going down that road wouldn’t lead anywhere good.

“It’s the lie, actually.” He smiled at my surprised look. “I mean, I don’t have anyone to talk to. Sean…he has enough on his plate right now—some weird stuff going on at work. And I can’t talk to my mom. Obviously not Angel.”

“What about someone at work?” Did I want him to go to anyone else? No. Absolutely not. But that was selfish-me talking, and this wasn’t about me.

“My friend, Nev. But she’s working.”

I nodded, spreading my hands out on the island. Afraid to ask the next question. “Then how was it a lie?”

His breathing was shallow. “I…” He swallowed. “It is true, but it wasn’t the reason. Even if I had a ton of people to talk to, I…” He blinked, biting his lips as he looked away.

My hand was back on his arm before I could change my mind. “Tell me.”

He didn’t move away, and I took that as a good sign. “The night you collapsed—when you had your heart attack—I thought you were going to die.” He shrugged, and it looked helpless. “After I realized you would be okay, I was still afraid to leave. What if something happened? I was there all the time, and no one seemed to mind. It wasn’t difficult since—” His eyes flew to my face.

“It’s fine, Brock. I’m aware that no one cared—”

“That’s not true—don’t shake your head, Joshua—people cared. Sean fucking cares. He’s just an idiot. Your daughter is too much like you. She stopped by, but then the company needed her, so she was off again. And Victoria…the hospital tried to call her. She said it wasn’t her problem anymore. God, she’s such a bitch.”

My lips twitched. “Don’t hold back on my account.”

His face heated adorably. “I shouldn’t have said that. God, just ignore me.”

“Impossible,” I said with such seriousness that he looked at me. “I like this Brock—saying what he means. Telling it like it is.” What I didn’t say—couldn’t say—is that I liked the other Brock too. The shy Brock I could still see glimpses of, who wanted someone to lead him. Show him.Fuck, fuck, fuck. Maybe some of what I was thinking showed because his blush deepened. Where was my poker face when I needed it? My stare-them-down-and-never-give-anything-away face that had been one of the reasons I’d been a successful CEO?

“The nurses thought I was your son. Some of them thought I was your boyfriend.”

This was news to me. “Why—” I cleared my throat. It was getting more difficult to swallow. “Why would they think that?”

He shrugged, but a tiny smile slipped through. “I held your hand a lot.”

“Thank you again for helping me. I shouldn’t have—” Told him to leave me alone? To go away? “God, Brock, I’m so sorry I was an asshole.”

Brock touched my hand as if remembering the way it had felt. “I had a painfully embarrassing crush on you. I should be the one apologizing.”

“Don’t. Please.” Brock started to pull away, and I grabbed his hand. “I don’t mean stop touching me, please, don’t stop that. I only meant you don’t owe me an apology.” His hands were strong. Yet somehow delicate. Just like him. “I love this trip down memory lane,” I said, sighing, “but I’m not sure I understand the relevance.”

“I feel a connection to you. It sounds stupid, I know.” He threaded our fingers together, and I gave him a squeeze of encouragement. “I felt it as a kid—it was innocent—I wanted to protect you and Sean, but when you grew apart, that became impossible.”

If Sean saw me sitting in his kitchen holding hands with his best friend, he would never forgive me. But weren’t we already there? “And then?” I prompted. I didn’t want to dwell on my son.

His blush flared back to life. “Teenage Brock definitely had a crush. How could I not? The few times you’d joined us swimming in your pool—”

“It wasn’t just me. The whole family was there.” I hadn’t thought of Brock like that. Not back then. I remember him having that impossibly fit body some teenage boys had without even trying. But I’d also been intent on saving my marriage and building an empire.

“I know. I didn’t mean to imply—” He tried to pull his hand away, but I held on.

Why was I making this about me? “Did you work out? Because if I remember correctly, you and Sean ate everything in sight. And you had a nice body…of course, I noticed, but I’ll admit, I only thought of you as my son’s friend. And a nice kid.”

“Wow. Nice kid.” He laughed. “The point is, Joshua. You were hot, and Teenage Brock noticed. It’s why I was a mess around you.”

Memories of those summer days—the few I was involved in—flooded back. The boys laughing and splashing each other. Victoria looking bored as she worked on her tan. And Brock—our conversations in the kitchen and outside swimming—I straightened in my chair and stared at him. “Wait. Was that why you were always rushing to the bathroom? I thought the food had gone bad. I had Esmy throw it all out.”

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