I stay in my seat even when he pulls up outside my house. I’m not ready to go inside. Although it’s absolute torture, I’d rather sit here hurting with him than being alone.
“You need to hire another security team,” he says, his head turned, eyes focused out the driver’s side window.
The man can’t even stomach to look at me.
“I’m fine,” I tell him.
“The online atmosphere is hostile where you’re concerned, Archer. After last night, it’s only gotten worse. I don’t want you to get hurt.”
You hurt me worse than anyone else possibly could.
I swallow that thought, knowing it wouldn’t make any difference if I voiced it out loud.
“I’m not yours to worry about any longer,” I say instead.
His fingers clench the steering wheel.
“You need someone.”
The only thing I need is you.
A new level of self-hatred washes over me. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to become independent, and I saw being rich as the solution. Needing Brooks is one more slap in the face that in trying to make sure I have everything in the world, he’s just one more thing I’ve grown dependent on.
It has happened with everyone who has crossed my path, whether it be my manager, my fans, or the people I thought were my friends.
I hate the look in his eyes when he looks at me as I press my hand to his forearm.
Instead of saying anything, I press my lips to his. It’s what I did the day we met, and it seems we’ve come full circle.
I climb out of the car, hating that my mind is playing tricks on me because there’s no way Brooks reached for me when I pulled away. I can’t look back at him as I open my front door and disappear inside.
Crossing the threshold into the mess I’ve let my house become in recent weeks, I feel disgusted with myself.
I want to be a better man. I need to be who I pictured myself being when I was just a little boy terrified of the man that was supposed to love me.
After cleaning up my house and really thinking about all that I’ve done to become the man I am today, only for it to lead me right back to where I started, I formulate a plan, one that will give me everything I need rather than the materialistic shit that doesn’t matter.
I’m taking back control of my life.
I bet Dr. Kent will be ecstatic.
Chapter 31
Brooks
“Excuse me?”
“You’re back on the Bremen case.”
“There is no case,” I argue.
“There is. Mr. Bremen renewed his contract yesterday afternoon.”
My jaw clenches. I bet that asshole called the second he got out of my SUV. It’s a form of control, a manipulation. He only wants me around because it suits that manipulative part of him that just can’t stomach when he’s not the center of the fucking world.
“Is there a problem?”
“No,” I say, shaking my head for good measure. “Have any of the specs changed?”
“It’s a basic security contract,” my boss tells me, and this is actually surprising.
I figured Archer for the type to dive right back into the fake relationship that we performed before.
“Got it. Did he say why he wanted BBS back?”
I feel like I’m under a microscope when he looks up at me. “He said he’s less likely to get into trouble when you’re around.”
“Okay.”
I don’t guess Archer is lying about that point, but there were reasons he behaved when we were together. We were both distracted with each other, dancing around whatever I imagined was building between the two of us.
“Do you think that’s going to be different this time around?”
I press my fingers into my eyes, trying to ward off the headache that’s threatening. Just thinking of being around Archer these days makes me feel so many things. I’m going to want to touch him. Hell, I almost pulled him back into my SUV when he climbed out yesterday. Where I gathered the strength to pull back at the very last moment, I’ll never know.
I didn’t want it to be goodbye, but now the prospect of working for him again, the chance of ending right back where our fight started, makes my skin crawl.
“Possibly,” I mutter, knowing it opens me up to a million questions.
“How so?”
“We fought the last time I worked with him.”
“He’s a rock star. Aren’t they known for temper tantrums? He must not have a bad taste in his mouth where you’re concerned because he asked for you specifically.”
I’m not surprised with this news. The man can’t manipulate anyone else up here the same way he can me.
“We were… I… Archer Bremen and I were involved… Fucked… Deacon. We fucked.”
I feel like an asshole for narrowing down what really happened with Archer to that last word, but since whatever I was feeling was one-sided, I can’t really be too upset about how impersonal I make it sound.