Page 182 of Carnal Wagers

“Any problems with the order?” I answered.

“Is my brother with you?”

Caught off guard by the Irish-accented English, I double-checked the caller ID. Unknown Caller blared in white across the screen.

“Who is this?”

“Brody O’Leary,” he stated, clear-cut.

I waited for him to add something else, like a basic “How are you?” or “How’s your neck?” or even a little “I’m sorry,” no matter how truthful.

“Answer my question,” he bluntly demanded.

I scoffed. “Aren’t you missing something?”

“What?”

“Oh, I don’t know. A hello would be a good start. Wondering about my health after you tried to strangle me wouldn’t be bad either. Just some basic human decency.”

“This is more important.”

I doubled over in a fit of laughter. I couldn’t with him because, honestly, his lack of concern deserved even less respect than that. I put up with being belittled by those closest to me for decades, and it took me years of independence to see myself as more than the box they’d shoved me into. No one was forcing me back inside it, especially not someone who knew nothing about me as a living, breathing person.

“Fuck you, Brody. Fuck. You.” Because he was still my brother-in-law, before hanging up, I tacked on with grace, “And have a nice day.”

I assumed that was the end of it, but thirty seconds later, the same Unknown Caller lit up my phone again. My thumb hovered over Ignore, but unease niggled at me. Brody never called me. Not once in the month and a half since I moved in with Cillian. I certainly never gave him my number, and I doubted Cillian had either, which meant he’d gone looking for it to call me not once but twice. Me, not Cillian.

With an irritated grumble, I gave in.

“What do you want, Brody?”

“Cillian.”

“Call him if you need him.”

“I was talking to him. The call cut off, and he’s not answering anymore.”

“Maybe he wants to talk to you as much as I do.”

“No. No, he talks to me even when he’s angry.”

I threw an arm up in exasperation, and it fell back down with a clap against my thigh. “What do you want me to say?”

“I need to finish our conversation. It’s important.”

I tsked and gave myself a last check in the mirror. “If he’s not answering, he didn’t feel the same way.”

“Are you at home? Is he with you?”

“Yes, we’re here, but we’re having guests, so he’s probably—”

“Can you get him for me?”

“I’m not your relay girl. Look, this…has been interesting, but I have to go.” I crossed the bedroom to the door.

“Check on him for me.”

I paused, my hand on the door handle. “He’s a big boy, Brody, and I’m not his keeper.”