Page 77 of Quiet Protector
After adjusting my phone so he can see me better, I shrug. “Yes and no. It’s cheap to stay here, and since I’m not technically working right now, affordability must be considered.” When Julian grumbles, annoyed I won’t accept his many offers of help, I talk faster. “But I also like it here. It’s…” I stop talking, unable to find the right word.
Julian doesn’t face the same dilemma. “Home.”
Smiling, I nod. “Yeah, it is.”
A stretch of silence spans between us. It isn’t awkward. More comforting than anything.
The same can’t be said when Julian asks, “Have you heard from Nichole?”
“Yes.” For how short my reply is, it shouldn’t seem as affirmative as it is. “Proceedings will commence February twenty-third.”
Julian’s sigh is so strong I feel it on the other side of the country. “Can I ask you something, Mel?”
“Anything.”
“It could be hurtful.”
I smirk, appreciating his honesty. “I’m okay with that. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.” That’s one of the biggest steps I’ve taken the past week. I had to learn that it’s okay to stumble as long as you get back up. Today is Christmas Day. I should be feeling lonely and isolated, especially since Kwan left to spend the day with his family, however, I don’t. I’m finally growing comfortable with my own skin. “Come on, Julian, out with it before you’re dragged away for brunch.”
His chest deflates when he exhales. “You were raped by the Governor’s son… so why isn’t the media blasting the story? It would usually be front-page news.”
It dawns on me that I know Julian better than I realized when I unearth the hidden agenda of his message. As much as he appreciates my name not being splashed across the tabloids, he’s also curious if this is the norm. His family is uber-rich. Their wealth and stature already have them targeted by the media, so you can only imagine how bad the scrutiny would be if Leo’s disclosure had been to anyone but me.
“In all honesty, I had wondered the same thing. Then I remembered what Vincent McGee is like. He’s unscrupulous, Julian. He doesn’t care who he has to steamroll to get his point across. Not even his own blood is safe.” I take a quick breather before adding, “I also asked for the charges not to be publicly acknowledged. Although I was technically an adult when the assault occurred, so there was no reason for Nichole to grant my request, I’m glad she did. The people I count on know what happened to me. I don’t need anyone else’s sympathies.” I stare straight at him while saying, “If you’re not getting the support you need from the ones you love, you need to get a new support network, Julian.”
He only nods, but I feel like I’m getting through to him. “Can I call you later?” He nudges his head to the party-like atmosphere happening behind him. “When that dies down.”
“Of course, you can. I’m not going anywhere.” My response has a double meaning. I have no plans to leave the ranch any time soon, but even if I did, I can still be there for Julian as he was for me for years.
Julian mouths his thanks before he shuts down our chat window. I’m still smiling about our friendly conversation when my phone receives a text message. I am hoping it’s from Brandon but am left disappointed when I realize it’s from the shipping company I used to return Brandon’s BMW to him. It was supposed to take two weeks for delivery, giving me plenty of time to work up the courage to tell Brandon his generosity wasn’t necessary. The Hellcat was his, so no payment was required, but the company’s text message advises they’re in the process of dropping his car off now. Christmas Day of all days. Even the Grinch knows that’s poor form. Brandon won’t see it as me saying payment for the Hellcat isn’t required. He’ll think I’m cutting him off and being ungrateful.
God, I need to fix this.
After returning a text to the shipping company, I leave a message on their voicemail begging for them not to drop off Brandon’s car today.
When another three attempts to contact them fails, I dial Brandon’s number. It rings and rings and rings, remaining unanswered until the sun is no longer visible in the sky, and my hopes are dashed.
I thought returning his car would shine a little bit of light into the darkness surrounding us. Now I’m worried it may have shrouded us even more.
33
Brandon
After silencing Melody’s fifth call for this morning, I slide my cell phone into the pocket of my jeans before stuffing my arms into my winter coat. It doesn’t get as chilly here the day after Christmas as it does in Saugerties, but the iciness of my veins makes it seem much cooler than it is.
Ignoring the keys of my BMW sitting on the entryway table, I snatch up my house keys before hotfooting it outside. My legs are a little wobbly when I gallop down the stairs. Alcohol is known for step impediments, and I’ve had more than my fair share the past few days. Isabelle was found safely. Isaac was touted as being her hero, and I was informed by Phillipa I had failed the mandatory psych evaluation to be officially signed on as a consultant with her team.
Me.
I failed.
Part of me thinks Phillipa is making out I didn’t pass so I’ll be forced to attend the counseling sessions she suggested after Hugo’s shooting. She made out I was a part of a ‘traumatic incident,’ but I have an inkling Grayson told her about my quip about being suicidal.
I’m not suicidal. If I were, would I be looking into the death of a man who took the easy way out? Bar the handful of times Alex and Grayson have mentioned him, I don’t know Dane Liberman, but I couldn’t stop playing Regan’s response to his death through my head while I laid in bed, doing nothing. Instead of wasting time, I either went on an eight-mile run or combed through Dane’s file.
While I pop down to the shop to grab some supplies, my computer is downloading the many video logs I found on Dane’s personal computer when I hacked in via an open banking app. I doubt it will lead to anything, but I’ve got nothing better to do, so it’s worth a shot.
When I reach the footpath at the front of my apartment block, I raise the collar of my trench coat, effectively blocking out both the wind whipping off the ocean and the view of my BMW parked in my assigned bay. With my Hellcat being impounded yesterday for being illegally parked, I’ll have to walk to the store for supplies—regretfully.
