Page 17 of The Hang Up

Then he started to cry. Again.

CHAPTER6

Brock

Could this get any worse?

First, I admitted my crush on my best friend’s dad tomy best friend’s dad. Admitted that I jerked off in his bathroom to thoughts of him during family get-togethers. Admitted—not aloud—but through the blush on my face that I had a boner just thinking about it with him right here. And now? I was crying like a baby. Fuck my life.

“Brock,” he said, moving beside me. I wanted to run away. Hide from him. But his closeness was intoxicating, and I leaned into his strength. He was several inches taller than me, and when he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me out of the seat, I didn’t have the energy—or strength—to push him away. “I’ve got you.”

That made me cry even harder because I believed him. Everything about this situation was wrong, but this…thisfelt perfectly right. He rubbed my back and kissed the side of my face. The pressure of his lips against my temple anchored me, stilling the worry and the anxiety, and for a moment, I felt at ease. I leaned back to show him I was okay—that he’d made everything better—but the affection in his eyes caught me off guard. Affection for me? I reached up to kiss him, and he turned away.

“Brock—”

The rejection hurt. Which seemed stupid since it wasn’t the first time he’d rejected me. Would I never learn? I tried to pull away, but his arms tightened around me. “Please let me go.”

“Wait. Just give me a second.”

“I get it, okay—”

“No,” he growled in my ear, “you don’t. Stop squirming for a minute so I can explain.”

“You really don’t—”

Another growl, but this time it was followed by Joshua picking me up and carrying me into the living room. I clung to him. How was he this strong? I was shorter than him but stocky. Yet he’d picked me up like I weighed nothing. When we reached the living room, he put me down long enough to get settled on the couch, and then he pulled me onto his lap.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Taking care of you.”

“I don’t need—”

He pressed his fingers against my lips. “I’ve got you, sweetheart. Tell me why you needed someone.”

So I did. I told him about Angel. About the cancer being gone and the fear it could return. The radiation treatments and how awful they made her feel. About Mom and how hard she’d been trying. “And I can’t do anything to help her.”

“You’re doing it. You’re being strong, which gives her permission to fall apart. That means so much, Brock.”

I’d laid my head on his shoulder as I talked, and I pulled back to look into his eyes. “You think so?”

“I do.” He brushed my hair off my face. “And now I’m here…giving you permission to let go.”

“I think I did that. All over your shirt.” The T-shirt he was wearing had wet spots from tears, and—oh God. I pulled back, and another sexy growl escaped him, and damn, that was hot. “Just a second.” I grabbed the box of tissues from the table and wiped my face. Grabbing a few more, I tried to clean his shirt.

He grabbed my hands. “I don’t care about that.”

“I do,” I said with a nervous laugh. Once that was done, I let him cradle me in his arms like a baby. I felt safe and realized I hadn’t felt that way for a while. Not since Angel had been diagnosed and my life had turned upside-down.

“What happened tonight?”

“Sean was an asshole—”

His arms tightened, but it wasn’t in a reassuring way like before. Then he took a deep breath and relaxed. “Go on.”

I didn’t want to tell him the rest, but using Sean as a diversion made me feel guilty. I couldn’t do that. “My mom called. She was crying.” My words were soft, barely whispers between us.

“Is the cancer back? Is Angel worse?”

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