Page 82 of Crossing the Brooklyn Briggs
We’ve been cleaning up for hours, and we’ve hardly made a dent.
“Seriously, just hire a cleaning company,” I beg him. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve said this over the last few hours, and I should really be going through my potential new client list.
Houston rolls his eyes and pulls yet another murder painting out of the crawl space under the stairs. It’s the fifth one, just as gruesome as the first four, and it will be going straight into the dumpster I rented this morning. Who knew there could be so many different naked death scenes to paint?
I fold my arms, refusing to touch the painting. The blood looks way too real for me to be comfortable. “Dude, I know you like doing things yourself, but this is borderline ridiculous. You have money. You can pay other people to do this for you and stop stressing yourself out.”
“Ha, that’s funny.”
“Why is that funny?”
Grabbing a sixth painting and stacking it with the others—why didn’t they take any of these with them?—Houston straightens up and then folds his arms. “Do you know why I canceled all of your appointments today?”
“So I could help you with this nightmare. I’d better get paid, by the way.”
He shakes his head. “No. I mean sure, I’ll pay you, but I didn’t find out about the renters until this morning.”
Well, now he’s not making any sense. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the fact that you haven’t texted me since Saturday.”
I pull my eyebrows together. We’ve literally gone months without texting before, so I’m not sure why he’s making such a big deal out of this. It’s not like we have to have nightly chats to share hot gossip and talk about girls. Anymore. “I don’t know what you’re getting at, but—”
“I know you, Jordan. And I know how you can get when you’re overwhelmed with work.”
Ah.
Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I duck my head so I don’t have to feel his piercing gaze. I don’t know what it is about the Briggs blue eyes they all have, but they’re intense. All of them.
“Rick told me about Wednesday,” Houston continues. “And I’m sorry. I knew you were wanting more business, but I didn’t think about how much attention I would draw. You can pay someone to—”
“I can’t.” Wincing, I settle myself on the paint-splattered couch that is definitely going to go into the dumpster before the weekend is over. “The profit margins are too tight right now.”
Houston rolls his eyes. “They’re not. Besides, if you hire someone to do the scheduling, that will free you up to do the actual consults and lock in new clients. You have to spend money to earn money.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Do they teach business classes during spring training or something?”
“You forget I lived with Lloyd for half my life. My stepdad is the king of business, and I swear every dinner conversation involved him spouting off business advice like he was Gandhi.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I know. I’m exhausted.Someonewoke me up after I had a five A.M. flight.”
Chuckling, I give his arm a gentle punch. He really is the best friend a guy could ask for. “Just be glad Tamlin Park isn’t seeing you like this.”
He shudders. “Let’s pray I never have to face that woman again. She’s even more terrifying in person.”
“I’m sure she’s lovely.”
“She’s a shark who smells blood and is waiting to close in for the kill.”
The conversation wanders to highlights of the final Series game as we jump back into our cleanup, and we don’t talk much the rest of the day. I want to bring up the idea of me dating Brooklyn, but Houston is way too tired and stressed for that right now. I’ll let him settle in, and then I’ll gauge his ability to handle a shift like that. His arm isn’t going to help anything, but I’m feeling hopeful.
I just have to hope Brooklyn is as invested in this as I am. If she’s not willing to put in the work to overcome her fears and the obstacles her past relationships have put in her way, I don’t know if this is going to work. I can only tell her so many times how unbelievably amazing she is, and if she can’t learn to love herself the way I love her…
I can’t be her only support, as much as I want to. I’ve clearly got my own issues to work through—Houston knew I was working too hard when he wasn’t even in the state—and I’m terrified of what would happen if I slipped and wasn’t there for Brooklyn when she needed me. Another Natalie situation would kill me, and Brooklyn as she is now isn’t strong enough to handle my problems.
She shouldn’t have to be, but I won’t risk hurting her more than she’s already been hurt.
