Page 130 of Collide
We stare at each other, neither of us moving. Holding the silence between us like it might crack if we breathed too loud.
“Do…you want to talk about it?” he asks, voice low and steady as his hand finds mine.
It’s warm. Solid. Not searching—just there. Soothing in the way that sneaks up on you, like background music you didn’t realize was calming you down until it’s gone.
I shake my head.
“We’ve got a lot more to cover,” I say, trying to keep my voice even as I straighten up, bones shifting into place like armor.
I can’t let him in. I shouldn’t.
I don’t pull my hand away, even though I should. Even though it lingers too long, saying more than I want to hear right now.
“Okay.” He lifts his hand, fingers brushing lightly as they leave mine, and turns back to the tablet.
The absence is instant. Cold rushes into the space where he was.
We settle back into a quiet rhythm, crossing items off the list one by one. Room assignments, scheduled activities, catering services, logistics, welcome bags—the works. Each tick of the checklist loosens the weight between us.
“We work pretty well together.” He slips his tablet back into his bag.
“That we do. I hope Andrew and Pip have a great time.” I sigh, stretching my arms overhead.
The movement pulls my shirt tight across my chest. I notice, but more than that, I noticehimnoticing.
His gaze lingers.
Brief. Sharp.
Then his eyes flicker, jaw tensing slightly, and he shakes his head once. Like he’s brushing something off. Like he’s reminding himselfdon’t.
So he’s not completely immune.
The thought flares and fades just as fast.
“So, Broderick.” I stretch his name out, shifting in my seat. “Can I ask you something?”
He leans back, one arm draped casually over my chair. “Sure. What do you want to know?”
“When did you andMr. Montgomeryget so…cozy?”
He doesn’t flinch. “He’s a business acquaintance. We’ve worked on a few projects and initiatives together. I’ve worked with Phil, too.”
He shrugs like it’s nothing. Like it’s normal.
“So you work for The Montgomery Group?”
“Not exactly.” He shifts slightly. “I’ve got my own company—Goodman Enterprises.”
“Wait,youown Goodman Enterprises?” My jaw falls to the floor. He’s in his early thirties and owns a billion-dollar company.
He shrugs like it’s nothing. “But some of the work I do aligns with The Montgomery Group. It’s good business.”
He pauses, then adds, “Your father’s been somewhat of a mentor. He sits on our board.”
My brain scrambles to catch up. Broderick owns Goodman Enterprises. My father mentoring Broderick. Sitting on his board?It doesn’t compute. Or maybe it computestoowell.
And I don’t like it.
