Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 52319 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 262(@200wpm)___ 209(@250wpm)___ 174(@300wpm)
"Don't curse at me, Brantley Hill."
"I'm not cursing at you, Ma. I'm just saying, you aren't paying his bills. I'll handle it. He's taken enough from you. You aren't paying for more," I murmur, my tone gentle. "You need your money. Creditors don't."
She huffs at me. "You shouldn't be paying his bills, either."
"Technically, his company will be paying them since I get my salary from it," I murmur, splitting hairs.
She glowers at me.
I hold up my hands, backing away to go get the bills. I find them in a stack on the kitchen island beside her medication. "Did you take your medication this morning, Ma?"
"Yes, Brantley. I took my medication."
I smile at her exasperated tone. It annoys the fuck out of her when I try to look after her. She still thinks she's the one who should be looking after me. But hell, I haven't needed her to baby me in years. It's my turn to take care of her for once.
I tuck the stack of bills into my breast pocket to look at when I get to the office and then cross back to the living room. "I've got to get going. I've got shit to do today." And then I pause. "May bring someone by to meet you soon."
"Who?"
"You'll see."
"Brantley Eugene Hill, if you're talking about a girl and you don't tell me right this second!" she practically shouts, making me chuckle.
"Yeah, Ma. It's a girl." I swallow. Is it too soon to think she's the girl? Christ, I hope not because I'm pretty goddamn sure it's the truth. Isla Sterling is the girl—the only girl.
How the fuck am I going to help her bring her sister home? I need to figure something out. Otherwise, she'll put herself in danger, and I can't risk that. I can't risk telling her father what she's up to, either. Not when it might mean him sending her away, too.
I've never needed much, but I need her.
"Who is she? How did you meet? What's she like?" Ma demands, practically shouting at me again.
"Her name is Isla. We met when she came to see me at my office, and she's fucking incredible, Ma. She's so damn sweet," I murmur. "You're going to love her."
My mother stares at me, eyes wide. "Brant," she says, her tone soft. "I've never heard you talk that way about anyone."
"Never met anyone like her before," I mutter, shrugging. "She's… Hell, you just have to meet her."
"Bring her to see me," she orders, picking her cup up from the marble table beside her. "I need to meet the girl special enough to make you fall."
"Who says I've fallen?" I ask, brow arched.
She narrows her eyes on me, a 'don't bullshit me' look on her lined face. "Do I look like I was born yesterday? Bring the girl to meet me, Brantley Eugene."
"Yes, ma'am."
"And you treat her right, you hear me? Trust yourself to be what she needs. And trust her too. Enjoy what's happening between you and believe that you deserve it. You do, sweet boy."
I jerk my chin in a nod, my heart pounding. "I'm working on it, Ma."
"Good," she says softly. "You've punished yourself long enough for things that were never your fault. It's beyond time you learned to let yourself be happy, Brantley. Maybe now that he's gone, you'll finally let yourself reach for it."
Fuck. Is that what I've been waiting for all along? For him to finally be gone so I felt like I was free? So I could finally breathe?
It's a grim thought. But…I think maybe it's accurate too.
I barely make it into my office before Daniel strolls in, massive arms crossed and a scowl on his face. He plants his big ass in the chair across from me, kicking one booted heel up on the corner of my desk.
"You didn't check in last night, motherfucker."
"Shit." I grimace, dropping the stack of bills I picked up from my mother. "I forgot."
He eyes me silently, his disapproval coming across loud and clear. It's impossible to operate in this business without spending time in bars and clubs. It comes with the territory when you're in music. But he and I have a longstanding agreement. If I have to do business in a bar, I check in with him afterwards. In the beginning, he went with me. It helped keep my head on straight. I'm past needing a constant babysitter most days, but checking in ensures I don't fuck up. It's accountability to someone other than myself because I've never trusted myself not to slide over the edge if left to my own devices. Self-destruction was a hell of a lure when I spent every day working beside the man who still haunted my fucking nightmares.
"You forgot," Daniel says levelly.
"Isla was there. I had to take her home."