Page 26 of My Brother's Enemy
I tried not to rush as I got ready, because when I did, I got worked up and forgot something, and I couldn’t let that happen. Cool, calm, and collected. That’s what I needed to be.
I was having a heart attack.
He wanted me to go to the hospital with him. Why? I should get out of it, make something up.
I didn’t.
I finished showering, dressed in black leggings, my little sneakers, and one of my favorite hoodies. I didn’t want my usual purse, so I put a few things in a crossbody bag. I’d never been one to spend an hour on my hair. Put in some product and it would dry just fine. I was lucky in that aspect. A little makeup, and I was ready to go.
My palms were sweaty as I rode down the elevator, questioning everything all over again.
His sister would be there. His niece. And he wanted me with him? I couldn’t make sense of it. God. I knew his sisterhad suffered a brain injury, and I knew how she’d gotten it. I didn’t think that was common knowledge. I should not be going with him. Anyone but me. And yet—I laughed, feeling a little unhinged as the elevator doors opened—here I was.
I stepped off and turned toward the lobby.
Tyler was there, surrounded by a bit of a crowd. He was signing autographs and chatting, but as soon as he saw me, he excused himself and pushed through the group to head my way. As soon as he was beyond them, he dropped the public smile and his face hardened. He nodded as he passed me. “Ready?” His knuckle grazed my arm, sending a tingle through me.
I croaked out, “Ready.”
If I was going with him, it should be in business mode, but I glanced at him sideways as we walked to the parking lot. I considered that, tried summoning the professional inside of me, and it wasn’t there. A part of me wilted, or melted, because that was gone. I wouldn’t be able to go back to being his sport psychologist. Then again, maybe I never had been, from the beginning? Our past had already condemned that, even though he hadn’t a clue about how intertwined our lives had been at one point. I could consult with him, be his equal, but even before accepting this job, I knew Tyler Griffin didn’t need any help from me. He already knew how to win. No. I was here in a totally different capacity, one a lot more private and personal, and my mind was yelling that I should stop and go back to my hotel room. But my body had no intention of turning around. We were going with him.
“Is this a rental?” I asked as we settled into his truck, my voice cracking a little.
“Mmmm? Oh, no. It’s mine. A buddy drove it out for me.”
“That was nice of him.”
He pulled out of the parking lot. “Yeah,” he said.
After that he was quiet, focused on merging onto the interstate.
He drove fast, but he was controlled. My brothers used to drive like bats out of hell. Daniel had been the worst, and if I cringed, he’d ridiculed me. It’d been hell anytime I needed a ride from him. I learned how to use the public bus system as soon as I could.
I stiffened, being in a vehicle with Tyler now. I couldn’t help it. Some memories would probably never leave me.
Tyler didn’t seem to be paying attention to me, though, so the closer we got to the hospital, the more I relaxed.
He finally looked over at me before getting out of the truck. “What are you wearing?”
I looked down. It was my favorite football team. “I’m pretty sure this is a sweatshirt.”
He rolled his eyes and reached into the backseat, producing two different sweatshirts. He pushed one against my chest. “You can’t wear an NFL sweatshirt.” He shrugged out of his jacket and put on the other one.
“Why not?”
“Because hockey is better.” He said this as if explaining basic math to a two year old.
I flushed. “I worked with this team. There’s nothing wrong with this sweatshirt.”
“And the optics? You’re with me. There are Grays fans here. They will notice. You know the sport. You know the fanbase. They’ll blow a gasket.”
I groaned. He was right. I wasn’t going to say hockey fans were entitled, but they weren’tnotentitled. The nicer way to say it was that they were passionate.
Very passionate.
I rolled my eyes, but changed, trying to ignore how the sweatshirt smelled like him. I eyed the hoodie he was now wearing. “You can’t wear that either.”
“What?” He looked down and cursed.
