"You know what, I think I'm going to head home."
"Good. Running when things get tough is a new look for you."
"Garret—"
He held up his hand. "Don't say anything else. It's just something else you'll have to apologize for later."
Brooks snatched his jacket from a living room chair, then bolted out of the house and into his car. As soon as he started the engine, his radio clicked to life and his own name buzzed out of the speakers.
"Brooks Adams, Dominic Del Rossi, and a whole lot of drama. The woman who started it all will be with us tomorrow to explain the good, the bad, and the ugly of what happened in the now-infamous billionaire brawl. Tune in at nine to hear all the details and to meet the Helen of Troy behind the story." The nasally female sounded so excited that Brooks could picture her salivating as she read the words.
He turned the dial down as far as it could go, then started his journey home, trying to ignore the ball of stress tightening in his chest.
Why would Natalie go on air and talk about him?
He didn't care what she said exactly. Lord knew she couldn't be the first to say whatever it was, but why would she put herself in the middle of it all?
Unless she truly was that upset with his lying and—okay—cheating and wanted to get back at him.
But even as he thought it over, he knew Natalie could never do something like that. If she was angry, she would have shown up on his doorstep and given him every piece of her mind that she could muster.
So what was it?
He slowed as he drove past her house. A soft light flickered in her living room window, and for a moment he considered stopping and dropping in. But it didn't feel like enough.
Besides, he didn't have anything to apologize for. He'd been fair.
A pang skewered him as he remembered Franco smiling down at her. The light in his eyes as he watched her. The way he held her hand.
How was Brooks supposed to react to that? And why wouldn't she have told him unless it was something real?
Oh, I don't know, maybe it had something to do with that psychotic ex...
But he'd made it right. He'd done to her what she'd done to him.
And how did that feel?
Did it make you feel better?
Did it make Debbie feel better?
Dammit. Debbie. He'd used her, even knowing how she felt about him. And the look in her eyes when he walked out of the police station...
He grabbed his cellphone from the passenger seat, then dialed her number. As usual, she answered before the end of the first ring.
"Brooks," she breathed.
"Hey Debbie. I wanted to call and apologize for the other night."
"It's okay. That kind of thing happens to me a lot."
"Fights in the middle of your evening?"
She trilled a laugh, then said, "No, no, no. I thought you meant Natalie."
"I, uh—"
"You were staring around practically the whole time I was talking to you. I know I've got a voice like a forth grader, but that doesn't mean I'm dumb."