7 Months (Time for Love 8)

“You need another shelf,” I said with a small laugh.

“Yeah, I keep meaning to get one,” he replied, then led me down the hall to the final bedroom.

His room.

Brady took a deep breath, then seemed to almost shrug to himself before opening the door and letting me in.

It was messier than the rest of the house, and I’m sure he’d figured no one from the party would come into his room, so why bother cleaning it like the rest of the house.

The bed was large, probably a California King, and was dressed with dark-blue bedding, which was still unmade. There were clothes on the floor, right next to the hamper, and a wicker basket full of assorted balls. Basketball, football, Nerf baseball, soccer, and a few just blown up bouncy balls. Finally, there was a large TV mounted to the wall.

“The balls are for Dec, he loves to play,” Brady said quietly from behind me.

I turned to look at him, taking in his embarrassment as I took a couple steps to bridge the gap that had appeared between us.

“This is me … not out there, that’s Victoria. I’m kind of a slob.”

Laughing softly at his words, but touched that he was worried I would somehow view him differently after seeing his bedroom, I ran my hands up his chest and wrapped my arms around his neck.

Stretching up, I placed a soft kiss on his chin before saying, “This doesn’t scare me.”

“You’re very neat,” he said, and I realized this had been something that had been on his mind for a while.

“Beds can be made and clothes can be picked up,” I replied, kissing his full bottom lip. “The balls are very sweet.”

Brady visibly let out a sigh of relief and curled his arms around the small of my back and pulled me in tight.

“Will you stay here tonight?” he asked, and my stomach fluttered deliciously. “I promise to make the bed.”

“No point in making it when we’re just going to mess it back up,” I murmured, and when he smiled beautifully down at me, I figured I’d died and gone to heaven, because this is certainly what that would look like for me.

“Text me when the party is over, or I’ll text you when my meeting at Brandt’s is over, whichever comes first.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Have fun, and if my thing runs later than yours, just make yourself at home.”

We walked back out and I said jokingly, “I promise not to snoop through your stuff.”

My heart soared when he replied seriously, “I’ve got nothing to hide from you, Ming.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven ~ Brady

I was feeling good and actually anticipating my return home to Ming when I walked into Brandt’s building, and was caught completely by surprise when I was grabbed by the shirt and pulled off to the side of the lobby.

My first instinct was to strike out, but Brock caught my fist before it could connect with his face.

“What the hell?” I asked as I scowled at my brothers.

“That’s what we want to know,” Brock said, his face conveying that he was very pissed. “Why do we have to see on the news that you’ve been in a shootout at the bank? You can’t fucking call your family to let them know you’re okay?”

“Ah,” I stuttered, my stomach dropping as I looked from Brock to Brendan, who looked sullen.

“No call, no fucking text, nothing … Victoria heard from Bronagh, who got it from Ming, that you were all right, so I held off from storming your house and beating the shit out of you. But just barely. Victoria made me wait until I saw you today to confront you about it, so I had time to calm down … It didn’t work.”

Shit, Brock is scary when he’s angry, I thought, then felt horrible that they’d all been worried.

“I’m sorry, man, everything happened so fast, I didn’t do anything but react to the situation. Then, Doobie was hurt, so I wanted to be there for him … I didn’t even have my phone on me for the most part.”