He just sighs.
“Come downstairs,” he says, turns, and walks away.* * *“—so she hates me now,” I say, my half-empty tea mug between my palms. “She hates me. She must have hated me all along, because apparently none of it mattered.”
I take another swig of the peppermint tea Daniel made me. I wish it were bourbon.
“She didn’t even want to date me,” I say, mostly to myself. “I should have known. What the hell is wrong with me, Daniel?”
Daniel just watches me. He’s spent this whole time listening, nodding along without saying much, but that’s fine.
“I’m sorry,” he says.
“Finally, there’s a girl I like — really like, for fuck’s sake — and she’s an asshole,” I go on. “She thinks I sent that picture to her boss. She thinks I would fucking show anyone else that picture of her. That’s insane. Every time I imagine him opening that email I just — ugh.”
“That’s rough,” Daniel agrees.
He’s calm as ever. When he was twenty-three Daniel found out he had a one-year-old daughter, and two months later he had full custody of a child he barely knew, so he’s pretty much impossible to freak out.
“Can you prove you didn’t do it, or is that not the point?” he asks, drinking his own tea.
“That’s not the point,” I say. “The point is —"
I stop. I don’t even know what the point is, any more. The point is that I’m hurt she could even think that and I’m hurt she wouldn’t listen to me for one second and the point is also I’d probably take her back in a second if she walked in here right now.
“—well, I also can’t prove it,” I say.
I tell him about the kitchen cameras being pointed at the wrong thing. I tell him about Martin and what a shitweasel he is. I tell him about the cranes, the oysters, everything he tried to ruin this summer. I tell him about the mechanical bull and the deleted files.
“Okay,” Daniel says, pointing at me. “That. Right there. I don’t know shit about relationships but this, I got.”
“What?” I ask, mystified.
“Deleted files. You can get those back.”
There’s a glimmer of hope. It’s small. It’s fragile. But it looks like Martin’s head on a platter and even if Violet never speaks to me again, I want that.
“Rusty once managed to wipe everything from the computer at the brewery,” he says. “It’s a long story, and the moral is that we should have been doing regular backups, but we managed to recover all our files.”
I sip my tea, mind already racing.
“You can probably do it yourself, honestly, but we called one of Silas’s military buddies who does IT stuff now —”
“Do you still have his number?”
“Probably.”
I pat my pajama pockets, looking for my phone.
“Eli, it’s three in the morning.”
“I need that number,” I say.
“I’m not giving it to you if you’re gonna call now,” he says, sounding irritated. “Wait until morning.”
“I will if you give it to me,” I say.
“You also will if I don’t give it to you,” he points out, standing and taking our mugs. “My phone’s in my room, can you make it that long?”
“I guess I’m waiting until morning,” I say.
Daniel puts the mugs into the sink, then sighs, turning to me.
“C’mere,” he says, and holds his arms out for a hug.
I step in. I don’t hug my brothers that often but he’s firm, solid. He pats me on the back, his short beard just barely tickling my ear.
“This sucks but it’s gonna be okay,” he says. “Try to get some sleep, you look like shit.”
“Thanks,” I say, and for once, I’m not even being sarcastic.
“You know what I mean,” he says.
“I do.”
We hold each other for one more second, and as we separate I tousle his hair. He makes a face at me.
“Go the fuck to bed, Eli,” he says, but he’s smiling.Chapter Forty-ThreeEliThere’s some contraption on Silas’s head. I stand next to my Bronco, arms crossed, and watch as he and Grady get out of their vehicle, and try to figure out what in the blazes Silas is up to.
They’re both wearing all black. Grady has on cargo pants, and Silas, in addition to the head contraption, has on something that looks like the cargo pants of fanny packs.
I finally walk over to them.
“Hi,” I say to Grady, holding out my hand. “I’m Eli. Thanks for coming.”
“Happy to help with your problem,” he says, shaking my hand. “Hope you don’t mind that I brought Silas along, he can be very useful in a tight spot.”
I glance around the Bramblebush employee parking lot, wondering what tight spots exactly they think we’re going to get into. There’s one nighttime security guard, and so far tonight, he’s spent most of his time watching The Office on his phone and occasionally walking around the grounds.