Page 179 of Forever Never
Brick unhitched Cleetus from the post on the street and pointed him in the direction of home.
He was just jogging up the porch steps when his front door opened and a miserable-looking Kyle Olson stepped outside.
“Olson,” Brick said.
“Callan.” Kyle was dressed down in jeans and a hooded sweatshirt. An odd outfit for a trial lawyer on a Wednesday. He looked like he wanted to say something. Brick hoped he wouldn’t because he still felt pissed off enough to punch someone.
“I just don’t know what she wants from me, man,” Kyle said, shoving a hand through his thick blond hair, making it stand up on end.
Brick stifled a groan.
“When we were engaged, she wanted to be a mom and stay home and raise a family. She wanted to live here on this fucking expensive-ass island. So that’s what we did. Now, it’s not good enough. I became a trial lawyer because I needed the salary to pay off student loans and make everything else on Kimber’s wishlist happen. And now it’s not good enough.”
All he wanted to do was go inside and grab his girl.
“People change,” Brick observed.
“I get that. But how about a heads-up? How about giving me a shot to play catch up?”
Brick knocked his head back against one of the porch supports. “I don’t want to get involved.”
“My wife and kids and dog are living in your house. You’re involved.”
“I don’t want to get involved,butfrom the outside, she’s been giving you nothing but heads-ups for the past few years,” he said stonily. “You’re the one who ignored them. You’re the one who decided to be a lawyer first and everything else second. No woman wants to come in second place with her husband. No mother wants her kids to come in second with their father.”
“So what the fuck do I do?”
“Fix it,” Brick said and stomped past him into the house.
“Remi?” he bellowed from the foyer. Mega raced toward him, barking. When the dog reached him, he stopped, licked Brick’s hand, and then trotted into the dining room to collapse in a sunbeam.
“She’s in the studio,” Kimber called back from the bowels of the house.
He stuck his head in the living room. Kimber had taken over the round pedestal table next to the bookcases. She was frowning at her laptop, printouts and folders covering the tabletop.
“What’s all this?” he asked.
“A little project I’m working on,” she said, looking up from the screen. Her eyes narrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.”
“You look like something’s wrong.”
“I just ran into your husband on the porch.”
She shrugged. “Who knew all I needed to do to get him to take a day off was ask for a divorce?” she said grimly.
“Are you sure Remi’s in the studio?”
On cue, the music changed, and they heard Remi belt out a few Missy Elliott verses.
“Yeah. Pretty sure,” Kimber said. “What did she do now?”
“Nothing. Everything is fine. Why do you ask?”
“Usually it’s only my sister that can put that half pissed-off, half panicked look on your face.”
“Everything is fine,” he repeated.
