Huge Working Hero (Hard Working Hero 3)

“Please don't say that again. I never want to wash your back.” I grab him by the shoulders and push back toward the door. “And on that note, I'd like to get some sleep.”

“I bet you would. It stinks in here. . . What is that that I smell?” He lifts his nose in the air as I push against his shoulders, and he digs his heels into the floor.

“Just get the hell out of here. We have a deal, let's leave it at that.”

“Fine. I'm going down to the restaurant. I'm starving.”

“Good for you. Maybe you can get lost on your way back.”

Seth chuckles. “Nice try, but you can't get rid of me that easily.”

My phone dings on the nightstand, so I give my brother one last good shove. “Get out,” I say while laughing. He makes a funny face, sticking his tongue out and crossing his eyes.

I shake my head, and use my shoulder to push the door closed, locking it so he can't barge back in. Peeping through the small window, I watch my brother knock on my parents’ door. My dad opens, the two talk for a minute, and then my brother leaves.

My phone dings again, fully grabbing my attention. I swipe the screen and see Brand's name. Instantly, butterflies swarm my belly and I'm smiling as I flop onto my stomach on the bed.

He asks me if I miss him yet, and of course I tell him yes. We flirt back and forth, eventually moving our conversation to childhood stories. Brand tells me all about how his father would spend hours working on his car to fix it. He said that by the time his father was done, the only thing on the car that wasn't replaced was the body itself.

He didn't grow up with much, and what little his family did have went to bills and food. His father had to decide between new sneakers for Brand or paying the electric. Between going to the movies or putting gas in his car to get to work. Choices my family never had to make.

Brand lived a different life than I did. And because of that, he appreciates what he has and what he earns. He's proud of where he is, and he damn well should be. Nothing's been handed to him; he's worked his ass off.

I love that about him. I love that he knows what it means to work hard. I love that he doesn't take for granted the small stuff. I love that he understands what it means to struggle and doesn't look down on anyone who might have less.

My life has been so much different, but despite not wondering where my next meal is going to come from, I've always had compassion for those who do. It's why I work at the community garden. It's why I do anything I can to give back. Because people matter, especially those that need a helping hand.

Maybe that's why I'm so drawn to him. Brand isn't broken, but he's been close, so close, that he saviors each day. He looks for the good in people. He's real. He's scars and rainbows that have somehow come together to form a beautiful, colorful sky.

The night slips away, and before I know it, it's almost one in the morning.

I yawn, my thumbs moving slowly across the keys as I text. I need to go to bed, I'm falling asleep.

All right, beautiful, I'll see you in the morning.

I'm barely able to read his last message before my lids lower and sleep take holds.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

My head snaps up off the pillow, hair spilling over my face. I brush it away and call out, “Yeah?” I lick my lips and clear my throat, trying to hide the fact I just woke up.

“You almost ready?” my father asks.

“Uh, yeah, I just need a few more minutes.”

“Well, let's go, we don't have all day to sit around and wait for you.” He grumbles something else through the door under his breath, and I hear him yell to my mother across the hall. “No, we don't have plenty of time, Claudette!” His voice trails off, and the door to their room slams shut.

I'm exhausted. I half roll and half slide out of the bed. My feet hit the floor, and my knees buckle as I try to stand up. There's a fog hanging over my head, and I didn't even drink last night.

As I flip the switch on in the bathroom, the light is blinding, turning the fog into a slamming headache. I turn on the warm water and rub my temples for a second. I splash my face a few times and wipe it dry.

I don't even bother putting on any makeup or doing my hair. I know I don't have much more time before my father is banging on the door again. For all I know, he has an extra key card and could come storming in any second.