Ask Me Why(72)

Kathy’s steps are dipped in molasses. A growl threatens to claw up my throat. She’s shaking worse than an autumn leaf. It’s hot as a furnace in here so the temperature isn’t to blame. Damn, she better not be getting sick. That would be a cherry on top of this shit sundae.

Her eyes bulge when catching sight of the disaster my office has become. “Uh, sir?”

“What?” My voice snaps through the silence between us.

“Is, ah, everything all right?”

I whip a hand across the shit decorating my floor. “Doesn’t it look okay to you?”

She gulps audibility. “Um, no.”

I steeple two fingers in front of my sneer. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

Kathy is wringing her hands together so hard that the skin is turning white. “I’m not aware, sir.”

“Then why ask the damn question?”

She clenches her eyes shut. “Is t-there something you needed?”

My sigh is loud, unnecessarily so. But I seem to be on a D roll. “Where’s the Hueltsen file?”

She points a trembling finger toward a heap of garbage in front of her. “There, sir.”

I glare at the offending mixture of contracts, client briefings, depositions, and other court proceedings. Some help she is. There’re at least twenty different cases thrown together. It’s obviously down there somewhere. Now I have to sift through this trash.

With a flick of my wrist, I dismiss Kathy. She hovers in my peripheral. I lift my narrowed eyes to her pale face.

“Do you have more stellar wisdom to enlighten me with?”

She shakes her head. “No, not really. But I hope whatever happened to make you upset gets better.”

I groan into my fist. “I don’t pay you for emotional support, Kathy.”

She shuffles backward toward the door. “I didn’t mean to overstep, sir. My apologies.”

I wave her off. “Get back to work.”

Kathy nods and scurries from the room. I push away from my desk and stand. The chaos I created isn’t going to clean itself. I scoop it all into a cluster and start sorting.

I’m shoving contents into the final folder when my phone rings. With a grunt, I reach up and grab the receiver. “Stone.”

A familiar tsk greets me. “Is that how you answer at work?”

“Hello, Mary. What a pleasant surprise.” My tone suggests anything but.

“Yeah, I’m sure. Listen, we need to talk.”

I snort. “Oh, really? I wouldn’t have guessed based off the fact you called me.”

“Don’t be a smartass. I’m serious.” The steel in her voice has me sitting up straighter.

“What’s going on?”

Mary clears her throat. “Ollie is pretty down, Brance.”

“Okay?” I drag the word out until it’s stretched five seconds.

“He’s not himself, you know? I can’t get him to smile. He’s not interested in going to the park or swimming in the lake. I’m at a loss.”

A hot iron stake drives into my chest. “Where are you?”

“Maple Street.” She doesn’t need to say more.

I drag rough fingers through my hair. “Why did you feel the need to contact me at this specific moment?”

“Ollie doesn’t want to leave.”

“Great. Feel free to let him stay until that place is out of his system. Is that all?”

I can practically hear Mary’s composure thin. “Pull your big head out of your stubborn ass. Your child is sad.”

“And that’s very upsetting for me. I’m unclear what you’re expecting me to do about it while at work.”

“Listen to me.” She says this in the same manner one would scold a disobedient toddler.

A rumble fit for a lion rises from my gut. What is it with women lately? They’re all grating on my nonexistent tolerance.

“I am,” I spit.

She makes an approving sound. “Good. Cut him some slack. You’re not the only wounded party in this breakup.”

“We didn’t break up.”

“No?”

“No. There was nothing to split. It was fun. Now it’s not. We just ended our part of this… agreement.”

Mary crows down the line. “That’s a good one. Very clean cut transaction. But Ollie gets stuck in the middle.”

“I specifically told her to maintain the relationship with him.”

“She’s trying. He wants more. The transition is tough on him.”

I choke down a curse. Ollie and his tender heart. “Most life lessons are. Hell, I’m still getting my ass handed to me on a regular basis. Shit doesn’t seem to get easier.”

That couldn’t be more true after this recent experience with Braelyn. I never went through a custody battle. Veronica’s one gift to me was leaving in peace. But this feels an awful lot like what I would have dealt with. Maybe worse because I actually give a shit about— Nope, not going there. Thinking about Braelyn is worse than jamming toothpicks under my fingernails. That woman stole any decency from me. Not that there was much to begin with. She’s the exact reason why I never form relationships.

Mary murmurs something to someone else. I assume it’s Ollie. She comes back on the line with a resigned sigh. “What do you recommend I try next?”