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“I need to leave Chicago by tomorrow.”
A pause. Something banging. “What did he do?” His jaw was clenched.
“He humiliated me. I don’t want to see him. I need to be gone before he’s back from Boston.”
Another pause. Clanking that sounded like weights. “I’m coming. I’ll be there tonight. In the meantime, I’ll arrange movers and my assistant will book us a flight for tomorrow evening. Have you resigned?”
This was why I’d called Elliot. Not for his warm caretaking. Elliot was no-nonsense, all-action. That was what I needed. Action. Movement. Removing myself from this pitiful situation as quickly as possible.
I licked my dry lips. “No. That’s my next plan. And so you’re not alarmed, I’m going invisible.”
He cleared his throat. All business. “Changing phone numbers?”
“Yes. I have to.” Blocking Patrick wouldn’t be enough. Not for me. I had to extract myself from his life completely.
“All right. That isn’t a problem. I’ll have a new phone couriered to you this afternoon. Is that soon enough?”
“Yes, I can’t imagine you could have one to me any sooner anyway.”
He scoffed. “There are ways.” That, I believed. Elliot rose to challenges.
A man’s voice was in the background. Someone familiar. I tried to block it out. I had enough to think about. He was demanding to know what was going on. My brother told him.
“It’s Elise,” Elliott murmured. “She’s coming home.”
I couldn’t hear the other man’s response, but then, I was actively trying not to.
We talked for another few minutes, which was rare. Elliot was more of a brief texter. Checked in a few times a week, made sure I was alive and well. We cared about each other but weren’t siblings who chatted about the weather. Well…I could have. It wasn’t Elliot’s style.
Today, though, he didn’t rush off the phone. He used his compassion, which he normally kept tucked away, and let me talk. He assured me I would be taken care of. I would stay with him until he found an acceptable apartment for me. Then he told me there was nothing for me to worry about anymore. He could shoulder my burdens until I was ready to take them on again.
My brother.
God.
Sometimes, I forgot who he was, but he always reminded me.
“Elise.”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me the truth. I’ll be angry if you don’t. Did he hurt you physically?”
A loud grunt in the background. Another clang. That same man’s voice, whispering viciously. I couldn’t close my ears, so I shut my eyes instead.
“No. Not physically. I don’t want to relive it. I’ll send you the screenshots.”
His intake of breath was sharp. “Will I need to hire someone to take him out?”
“Is that—you know how to do that?”
“Elise.” An admonishment. Like I was stupid for asking. Of course Elliot knew how to do that. He knew how to do everything. If he didn’t, he’d find out.
“Elliot, you’re not hiring a hit man.”
“It would look like an accident.”
In the background, there was mention of taking out his kneecaps. I told myself the sound came from the television—nothim.
