One Chance, Fancy (Bear Bottom Guardians MC 5)

“Phoebe?”

I wanted to ignore him.

Really, I did.

But I also didn’t want to risk losing the job that I hadn’t even had for a full five minutes yet.

I turned and saw Brielle leaning against Bayou, Bayou’s arm around her shoulders. She was sneering at me while Bayou was staring at me with confusion on his face. “Can you be here tomorrow at eight?”

I nodded once, then turned, exiting out of the hallway, and then the building as fast as I could.

I barely restrained the urge to key Brielle’s stupid car that was parked right next to me.Chapter 2Been on a diet for two weeks straight. Proud to say that I’ve lost 14 days of happiness.

-Phoebe’s comment that Bayou has no idea how to respond to

Bayou

My brain was a fucking mess.

The last thing I wanted to do was cater to Brielle’s whiny questions, yet there I was doing it anyway.

“I don’t understand why I can’t have that job,” she persisted even though I’d already given her a logical answer that I thought might shut her up.

Emotions were not my forte. However, when it came to Brielle and her insecurities, I was more than capable of playing her game. I’d had fifteen years of dealing with her irrational anger, her jealous rages, and her incessant need for comfort.

But today, after talking to her for the last hour? I didn’t have anything left in me to offer Brielle for comfort. Not when all I could think about was Fancy.

She’d been a part of my life since she was a young teenager, and even though I hadn’t seen her much until the last several months, it still felt like yesterday when I’d first met her.

It was weird. It felt like I had a connection with the woman from the moment I’d first seen her. From the moment I’d disentangled her from the belt system in the helicopter. The one that she definitely shouldn’t have been in, yet was anyway.

Then again, Phoebe had never shied away from danger.

Over the time that I’d been in the Army as military police, Phoebe might have thought that I was gone, but I wasn’t.

I’d been exactly where I needed to be—there, but not there. Aware of the comings and goings of her life, but unseen.

I pinched the bridge of my nose and looked at the clock above Brielle’s head, mentally calculating the hours until I got to see Phoebe again. Seventeen. Seventeen hours, twenty-three minutes and sixteen seconds.

Fifteen.

Fourteen.

Thirteen.

Twelve.

“Are you ever going to answer me?” Brielle asked, anger rising in her voice.

Eleven.

Ten.

Nine.

Eight.

Seven.

“Bayou, seriously,” Brielle growled. “What the hell is your problem?”

Six.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Fifty-nine.

Brielle growled in frustration and stood up, walking around my desk and depositing herself on the corner so that she was less than a foot away from me.

She didn’t touch me, though.

She knew better.

Nobody ever touched me unless I wanted them to, and it was rare when I even allowed that.

Handshakes were fine.

Backslaps were also okay.

As long as they were by men.

I was a full blown adult and still learning new things every day.

Like the fact that Phoebe’s touch didn’t cause my mind to panic and freeze like it did with other women.

“Bayou, seriously, you’re starting to worry me,” Brielle pushed.

I got all the way down to sixteen seconds—where I’d originally started an entire minute ago—and finally answered Brielle.

“You can’t have the job because you didn’t apply for it, Phoebe did. She was the first one qualified for it, and she has a Bachelor of Nursing while you only have an Associate’s. Your expertise is all with pediatric patients, which we most certainly won’t be having here. You already have a job, and she doesn’t. She’s better qualified because she’s also more than capable of handling herself while you’re not,” I told her bluntly.

That was the only way I knew how to be, blunt.

I’d always been more than open with my thoughts and feelings. I didn’t beat around the bush. I didn’t explain myself. I also didn’t see the point in sugar coating anything. Who would want to be told someone died, but it was okay because God wanted it that way? Nobody, that’s who.

Death was hard. There wasn’t a way to sugar coat it.

“I won’t have a job for much longer,” Brielle tried. “I hate my job. I especially hate it since they merged with that new company. It’s incredibly hard to perform to their standards.”

I picked up the pen that Fancy had brought in with her and left, smoothing my finger over it and wondering if an inanimate object, like a pen, could capture someone’s scent.

The pen was yanked away from me and Brielle growled.

“You’re not even listening to me!” she growled.

I held my hand out for the pen. “Give it back to me now.”

“No,” she refused.

I felt anger stir in my gut.

“Give it back to me now.” I was getting pissed now.