Page 95

Moving to the US at eighteen taught me pretty quickly that I don’t have the freedom to make the same mistakes everyone else does. What kept me safe through the years was learning fromotherpeople’s mistakes and avoiding lots of pain and trauma.
I can’t believe I forgot all the lessons I learned. What would have happened had I just let the wave of events carry me forward into a relationship with Big T? What if he’d hurt me or Josiah?
“You need some help?” Big T asks.
Cullen’s grip on my arm tightens.
“No. My fiancé is here. I have all the help I need.”
Big T remains in our way, glancing between me and Cullen. Cullen curls his fingers into fists as the air becomes thicker and thicker with tension. A fight is pretty close to breaking out and I start getting antsy.
Cullen is taller than Big T, but he’s also more frail. Plus, I doubt the reclusive millionaire who codes for a living and has an obsession with germs has ever been in a street fight.
There’s no way I can let this become a brawl.
I get Big T’s attention. “Is there a reason you’re blocking the door, Big T?”
“Nah,” he says tersely.
“Then can you step out of the way?”
“I want to talk to you.”
“Nardi’s tired and needs rest,” Cullen says. His voice isn’t hard or scolding, but it is firm and matter of fact. Somehow, his frank tone seems way more masculine than Big T’s puffed out chest and overly aggressive mannerisms.
Big T scowls at Cullen and, for a moment, I’m afraid he’ll swing. Cullen doesn’t flinch, despite knowing he would one hundred percent lose that fight.
Finally, Big T backs off. “Let’s talk later, Nardi.”
A frown etches into Cullen’s face, but he doesn’t push the issue.
Guilt niggles at me when I think of how that conversation could have ended. I’ve been awful to Cullen all day, but he put himself between me and Big T and stood his ground. Why is he insisting on taking care of me? What does he really want? Is he still only hanging around me to make Josiah his legal legacy?
I ignore those thoughts and focus on the long journey up the stairs. With every step up, we move slower and slower. By the time we get to the apartment, all of us are winded.
Josiah and Cullen head back down to bring our stuff from the car and I pull my little brother aside, advising him to keep Cullenfrom the heavy pots. He valiantly lifted me and carried me to the car after my accident, but I saw him on the stairs. Cullen exerted a lot of energy today and it’s starting to take a toll.
Once they’re done with the task, Josiah flings himself into the sofa. “We need an elevator.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” Cullen breathes out.
The spike of guilt sharpens, digging in like a splinter when I tilt my head up and see the redness of Cullen’s face. The truth is that his illness is way more severe than mine. He’s definitely been stretched to capacity today and I haven’t once told him ‘thank you’. Even worse, I’ve been distant and testy all day, to the point that Josiah had to call me out.
My behavior is going to weigh on my conscience and regret will most likely rob me of sleep. I have no other choice but to make up for it, if only for my own peace of mind.
Josiah lumbers to his feet. “Later, Cullen. I’m going to my room.”
“Night, buddy.” Cullen tries to draw me to the sofa. “Sit here, Nardi.”
I move my elbow out of reach. “I’ll warm up some food.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Have you eaten lunch?”
“It doesn’t matter. You heard the doctor. You’re not to do anything with that wrist. I’ll order take out.”
“Don’t waste your money. We’ve got food here.”