Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 89658 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 448(@200wpm)___ 359(@250wpm)___ 299(@300wpm)
“Why isn’t she answering her phone?” I ask, my voice cracking, when I’ve finished talking to Miller.
“I’m going to do what I can. Maybe we can call the resort and have them track her down,” Caleb suggests, already typing on his phone before placing it to his ear. “Yes, I need to be put through to Josephine Henderson’s room, please,” he tells whoever answers. He pauses. “Thank you.”
I stand from the bed and walk toward him, but he holds up his hand to stop me. “Joey,” he greets, and I sag in relief that he finally has her on the line. “Hey, don’t cry,” he says, and I feel my world shatter as I drop to my knees. I never wanted to hurt her. I never wanted my career to cause her pain and to think that it’s all at the hands of her mother.
“I need to talk to her,” I say, climbing back to my feet and reaching for his phone.
“Brock.” This time it’s Caleb’s tone that’s a warning. “I know, Joey,” he says, his voice softer. “You don’t have to talk to him, but you do have to listen to me.”
CHAPTER
TWENTY-FOUR
Joey
I sniffle. Again. I hate crying, and ever since I got up this morning, I feel like I’ve been doing just that. I can’t even imagine what my face must look like right now. I’m supposed to be downstairs with my new team, having breakfast before our first round of team-building events, but here I am, crying over tabloid drama once more.
“Are you listening to me?” my brother says gently.
Sniffle. “Yes.”
“It’s all bullshit, Joey. Every word. I was there. I watched it happen and heard everything said.”
I close my eyes, relief filling my entire being. Not because I believed what was printed. I simply don’t trust the woman who gave birth to me, the one who has used me as a pawn to get more from my dad my entire life, to do whatever she can to keep herself front and center in the prying eyes of the media.
The one who has made it more than clear she takes what she wants and screw who she hurts.
“Why is she there?” I voice the question I’ve had since I woke and saw that horrid photo on my screen.
“I don’t know,” he replies honestly. “She was drunk and stumbling near the elevator. She practically fell into Brock and then started hitting on us. It was vile.”
I can’t even process the words he’s saying. “She hit on you too?”
Caleb snorts. “Like a groupie backstage at a Whitesnake concert.”
I close my eyes, embarrassment washing over me. “I’m sorry.”
“No,” he practically demands. “You don’t apologize for her behavior. I’ve heard it my entire life, Joey, and I won’t hear it anymore. You did nothing wrong. You’re not responsible for how she acts, what she says and does. Your whole life, you’ve done everything you could and should to make that woman happy, but enough is enough. I don’t want to hear any more apologies from you, you hear me?” His tone is much softer as he asks that last question.
“I hear you.”
“Good. Now, are you okay? Really?”
I take a deep breath and flop back on the bed. “I think so. I’m just sad that this is my life, you know?”
He doesn’t say anything for a few moments before he finally replies, “I know. This isn’t what you’ve ever wanted.”
“I don’t want to be in the news, Caleb. I don’t want to have my picture taken everywhere I go. This is too much.” I feel the tears welling up again, but I quickly blink them away.
“I know, sis. I know.”
We don’t say anything for a few minutes, but it doesn’t matter. I’m comforted by having my brother on the other line. “Listen, I need to get downstairs. I have a whole day’s worth of activities I’m supposed to be a part of, and I’m sure they’re wondering where I am.”
He sighs. “Do you want to talk to Brock?”
Do I?
Yes. I need to hear his voice more than I need my next breath of air, but isn’t that the problem? I’ve become completely focused on him. A man. Something I swore I’d never do, not after witnessing my mom’s antics growing up.
“Not yet. Tell him I’m okay, but I really need to get down to my meeting. We’ll talk when we get home.”
“Joey,” he says, getting ready to argue.
“Please, Caleb. I just need… a minute. To think. To breathe. If I talk to him right now, I’ll be crying and sad he’s not here, and I just don’t have it in me right now.”
“I understand.”
“Just tell him… tell him I love him, and I’ll see him tomorrow night when he gets home.” My throat is thick with emotions and unshed tears.
“I’ll tell him.”
“Thanks, Caleb. I’ll talk to you later. Good luck tomorrow, okay?”