I glanced at my phone and considered texting Cam, but I fought the urge. I had to stop hovering so much. He was getting older. It was just hard to accept.
Once I had my food on a plate and a glass of wine, I headed back to the living room. I was going to try streaming television this time. No chance of seeing Dean and getting my head in a mess. I decided on one of my comfort shows and dug into my food while I started season three ofDownton Abbey.
thirteen
dean
Kiro’s attempts to get me to stay in Beverly Hills had been futile. Ten days there, and I was ready to head back to the East Coast. I’d shown my face at several events and done my duty to the band.
Now, I was back in Florida, where the sun was hotter and life moved slower.
It had been two weeks since I’d seen Brielle. The space had been good for me. Fucking Helena didn’t help, but it was a distraction for a moment. The strippers that Kiro brought home were entertaining as well, but in the end, it was just a shallow, pointless release. The kind my life had been full of and I no longer desired. It was why I’d left California. I wanted normal.
Passing by the college that Brielle worked at was tempting. I could pull in there and walk into the office. She’d be there, unable to run away from me this time. I’d get a chance to explain or apologize for Maegan, but that was behind me. I was putting Brielle behind me. That had been a terrible idea anyway.
I parked in my private garage, then headed up the elevator that took me into my penthouse. Rush had been by to check on things, and he’d hired a new building manager for me. It wasn’t a man, but it was a female Rush had assured me wouldn’t be interested in me sexually. She had a wife, who worked at the Kerrington Country Club, and they lived in Rosemary Beach.
Everything was clean and in order. It was also quiet, and I embraced that after ten days of living with Kiro again. My gaze, however, went to the hallway. The one I’d eaten Brielle’s pussy in while she screamed my name. It felt like unfinished business, and I hated that feeling. She was going to haunt me in my own damn place. But getting her back up here to finish it and move on with my life didn’t seem like a great idea either.
I stood there, staring down the hallway, remembering how good she had tasted, how sexy her sounds of pleasure had been, and I wished there were some way I could wash it from my memory.
“Fuck it!” I said in frustration and pulled out my cell phone, then pressed her number.
It rang three times, and I thought it was going to be sent to voice mail when, “Hello?” came over the line. Except it wasn’t a normal-sounding hello. Something was wrong.
“Brielle?” I asked.
There was a pause. Silence. I began to think I’d called the wrong person or maybe she’d changed her number.
“Yes,” she said, followed by a fit of coughing.
“You’re sick,” I stated.
“Yeah,” she said, and then I heard a rattling sound in her chest.
“Have you been to the doctor?” I asked, getting more concerned by the second.
“Yes. Clara took me yesterday,” she replied.
“Did they give you meds? What’s wrong?” I asked her as I began walking toward the door.
“It’s COVID. I’m on meds. It sounds worse than it is,” she said, then coughed again.
“Are you alone?” I asked her, pressing the elevator button.
“Yes. I’m quarantining.”
“Fuck that,” I muttered into the phone and pressed the third-floor button.
“Excuse me?” she asked.
“I’m coming down there. You need someone to take care of you,” I said to her.
“Dean, I have COVID. You can’t come here, or you’ll have to quarantine too. Clara wore a mask around me and still has to quarantine for five days at her place.” She stopped talking and started coughing again.
It sounded like she couldn’t breathe.
Damn, why is the elevator taking so fucking long?