Chapter 18

Brynley

“Pass the pen, dick breath,” I huff, palm facing upward, hovering right above my mom’s blanket covered lap.

“ That’s yours ,” taunts J.T. from the chair stationed on the opposite side of her bed.

“This,” mom loudly sighs as she swings her stare to me, “ this is why I only had one of you.”

“Because you achieved perfection the first time?”

“Because you clearly don’t play well with others,” she playfully fusses causing Wes to laugh loudly beside me.

“Considering my morning activities-”

“And the one at lunch,” Puppet Boy slyly interjects during the pen transferring from his grip to mine.

“-I would have to strongly disagree.”

“How do you know what happened at lunch?” my boyfriend unhappily ponders in his best friend’s direction.

“Because anyone with ears in a two-mile radius knows what happened at lunch,” he chortles in return, word search booklet being given to me next. “And it wasn’t cleaning up her résumé.”

Redness instantly blooms in his expression prompting him to snip, “I don’t think we should be discussing such things in front of Lauren.”

“Then perhaps you shouldn’t have left such marks on my daughter for me to see, ” she flippantly jeers. “Were you kissing her neck or trying to snorkel with it?”

Amused cackles cause my head to momentarily drop forward.

Wes’s face further cherries alongside his whispered investigating, “ Is this an inappropriate subject to discuss with your mother of all people? ”

“ Puh-lease ,” I effortlessly brush off while beginning my hunt for an unfound word. “Who do you think I told first about losing my virginity?”

The gasp that escapes Wes isn’t any sort of shock.

In private?

Absolutely an apex… everything.

In public?

I wouldn’t be surprised if he was wearing a chastity belt rather than those expensive boxer briefs, he prefers.

“Seriously?” J.T. leans back in his seat and crosses one leg over the other. “ Your mom? ”

Circling something on the list occurs in tandem with me clarifying, “We’ve always been open with each other. You know…minus the whole has a hot mega billionaire for a boss thing.” Passing the object over to Wes is done with a salacious wink. “And you are hot. Explosive hot.” The wiggling of my eyebrows deepens the crimson color. “ USS Kelvin vs Narada ship explosion hot.”

A mixture of awe and hunger amalgamate in his gaze seconds prior to the other man in the room heavily sighing. “Dude, why can’t I find a woman to compliment me like that?”

I toss him a mirth-ridden smirk. “Because the chances of you finding her at a Tuesday charity brunch for underprivileged camels is slim to none.”

“It wasn’t for camels,” he needlessly argues, hands folding in his naval blue suit colored lap. “It was for addax, but point… noted. ”

Mom giggles, leans over, and delivers a loving pat to his leg.

Fuck, I can barely believe this is the same woman I was worried I’d have to figure out how to beam out of here to get her to a hospital for proper care. The woman I arrived to see two weeks ago wasn’t this lively or energetic.

She damn sure wasn’t walking around tidying up the room because she just couldn’t stand seeing so many things out of order any longer.

Hamilton keeping her in a clean room for almost a week then integrated back here – which postponed us seeing her face to face an extra day – seemed to be exactly what she needed.

Her vitals are not only stable, they’re completely normal.

Her appetite has entirely returned.

And more importantly, so has her cheeky spirit.

“Is everyone done working for the day?” Mom questions during the taking of the word search to have a turn. “Don’t let me keep you here if other things need to be done.”

“ They can wait, ” my boyfriend declares and adjusts his arm that’s draped around my black tank top having shoulder. “ You are more important.”

“See,” J.T. juvenilely kicks his chin in Wes’s direction, “ see what your daughter is doing to him?” Giggles get my frame shaking as he adds, “First, letting her stay in the main house, then taking her to work, then visiting her there, and now blowing off work to play games with her favorite people.” Impishness expands into his entire expression. “I mean what’s next for the Bat? Hm? Not wearing his cape in public?”

“Do you have any idea how fucking heavy those things are?!” I squeak in disbelief, sparking laughter to spread throughout the room. “Who the hell is out there fighting crime in that?!”

“He let you wear one?!” Puppet Boy scoffs just slightly louder than Mom laughs. “What kind of shit is that?! I’ve been asking to do that since he got them!”

“Look better naked,” Wes unexpectedly states, sending the face of his company’s jaw to the floor.

Additional rounds of chuckles bounce around encouraging me to lean in closer to him.

Relax in his arms.

Enjoy his guard being down.

And it is.

Whenever he’s in one of the offices – or his mobile office aka his phone is within reach – he’s in some full-on Wolf of Wallstreet shit. It’s always something. Calls. Emails. Contracts. Designs. Acquisitions. Accounting. Charities. I mean you think it, and it’s somewhere on his task master list of shit to handle. And when he’s in business mode, he’s in business mode. There’s no room for fun or games or even food sometimes.

But when he gets out of it?

When I can seduce him away to his comic lair or bedroom or the backstairs – which is where our afternoon tryst took place – he’s a different man.

The workaholic beast is subdued, and the nerd prince rules all.

I honestly like both.

I really do.

I just prefer the one that isn’t afraid to not take life so seriously a little more.

“What is next, Weston?” Mom questions after passing the booklet back to J.T. “Taking my daughter out to dinner? The movies? Perhaps a play?”

“Please, don’t take me to a play,” I plead, face swiftly swinging towards his.

“What about a Star Trek one?”

His challenge prompts my brow to crinkle in confusion. “They don’t make those.” Pausing precedes me shooting a curious glance to my favorite T.V. partner. “Wait. Do they make those?”

“Not to my knowledge.”

“Musicals?”

He doesn’t bother lifting his head. “Not those either.”

My hand gestures that direction to reiterate my point persuading Wes to chortle. “Understood. No plays.”

“Or musicals.”

“Or musicals.”

“Then what are you taking her out to do?” Mom smoothly steers the conversation once more. “This is the first time you’ve left the estate for more than just delivering flowers in years , so you are not to even consider pumping the breaks now, young man.”

Wes beams bright enough for me to need sunglasses inside. “It’s obvious where Bryn gets her negotiation skills from.”

“This isn’t a negotiation, Weston,” my mother clarifies without missing a beat. “This is non-negotiable. ” She pulls the blanket up a little higher towards her stomach. “She will get you out of the house. You will not get her staying stuck in it. Understood?”

There’s no hesitation for him to agree, “ Yes, ma’am. ”

It’s his turn to receive a loving pat on the leg. “Now, what do you have in mind? A long drive down to the coast? She loves the ocean.”

“That’s where the sharks live,” I childishly retort under my breath and take another turn with our word game.

“I am actually in the process of arranging something for Thursday night. ” His thumb delivers a gentle stroke between statements. “I prefer leaving and engaging in activities outside of the estate where I can use the cloak of night to my advantage.”

“Now say it with a rasp ,” Puppet Boy playfully pokes again. “ The bat rasp. ”

Before my boyfriend can bite back, I redirect my attention to him. “I can’t Thursday night. I have to work.”

His glower is instant. “ Since. When? ”

“Since I asked to be added more on the schedule.”

“Why would you do that?”

“The weirdest shit keeps happening to me. These…random… people keep asking me for money that they swear I owe them for like my phone…my car insurance…my student loans…”

The levity in my tone sparks a smirk. “ Villains. ”

“That’s what I said!”

Laughter spreads throughout the room and for just a second I let it.

Relish it.

I’ve never had this.

I’ve never introduced my mom to someone I’m dating – not that there has been a long list that have made it longer than a month – and I’ve just sat around with her and my friends – not that there’s many of those either – laughing and joking around.

For so long, I swore she was the only person who would ever understand me.

Want me.

Be there for me.

The one person I knew I could always count on.

Trust.

It’s been her ocean I’ve learned to survive in, but I’m beginning to believe Wes’s is where I will thrive.

Post the humor fading, I suggest, “Can we do something tomorrow night instead?”

“Can’t. Monthly meeting with J.T. and both our assistants to review changes and new additions to next quarter’s calendar.”

“Which I go to in person at the office and have takeout delivered for us,” Puppet Boy proudly proclaims. “Aivy will probably always be a basic redshirt in business, but her taste ability to find the newest and tastiest restaurants is definitely that of gold.”

An impressed expression precedes me slowly nodding. “ Damn. ”

“What the fuck does that mean?” Wes huffs his confusion. “And why do I feel like you’re speaking a secret language?”

“That would be Klingon …” my snarky smile is flashed at him, “ and you’re invited to our study sessions if you think you can keep up.”

He shoots his best friend an amused yet horrified glare. “You’re studying fucking Klingon?!”

“Could you just… focus on finding a time to do more than fuck your girlfriend?!”

Mom snickers and takes the booklet, skipping Wes’s turn entirely. “I agree with J.T.”

Another exasperated sigh escaping occurs at the same time he finds my stare again. “Monday?”

“Or…” A single digit is raised in the air. “We could do next Tuesday, like an anniversary celebration.”

Seeing his mismatched gaze light up causes butterflies to flutter around in my stomach. “I love having an anniversary with you.”

And against all top of the food chain instincts, I love him.

Not gonna say it though.

That’s just bait, I’m not even going to sniff.

I bashfully tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. “Does that work for you?”

“ I’ll make it work ,” is swiftly followed by his mouth crashing against mine.

Unfortunately, no more than a single stroke is delivered due to the older woman in the room warmly cooing, “Well, would you look at that. The most stubborn people I know can compromise.”

Snickers send us our separate ways, yet the opportunity to jab back is robbed courtesy of an unexpected knock at the door. It’s then opened just enough for a face to appear between it and the frame. “How’s my patient feeling?”

“Content,” Mom sweetly announces.

“Good.” Hamilton offers her a polite grin before asking, “Do you mind if I come in? I have some important matters to discuss with…well…all of you.”

She waves him inside, and the second he shuts the door behind him, he leans against it. “Let me start by saying, this is a difficult topic to broach; however, it is my duty as a medical professional and more importantly, as a trusted member of the Wilcox estate to inform you of my findings.”

Angling myself his direction is instantly done. “Which are?”

“It’s poison.”

“I knew it!” leaves me while grumbles of disagreement dart out of Wes.

“We can’t be back to this again.”

“ We are. ”

“You have to be mistaken,” my boyfriend bites, arms retreating to his body. “There has to a be better explanation.” He clears his throat to allow a more professional tone to take its place. “What about the possibility of a reaction caused by the new additions to J.T.’s lifestyle?”

“You say that like I’m keeping a drum of acid in the back of my closet.”

“Reese’s latest environmental changes are irrelevant. The items he ordered were still in their unopened packaging-”

“I’ve been… busy. ”

“-and the ingredients of said items were then checked against things in this building in an effort to spot possible similarities. The results were negative.”

“Which is why it has to be poison!” I squawk in outrage.

“ Yes. ” Hamilton folds his arms across his scrub covered chest. “I believe it’s a created compound that has a very high metabolizing rate. One that’s hard to pinpoint and hard to detect and doesn’t require a large dose to be effective.”

“ Ohmygod! ” Momentarily cupping my mouth occurs prior to me shouting, “Someone’s trying to kill my mom!”

“Mmm,” the doctor hums in obvious objection, “ not exactly. ”

“What the fuck do you mean not exactly?!”

“I don’t believe the intention is to kill her,” he swiftly proceeds. “If it were , she’d be dead by now.”

“Oddly comforting,” Mom mutters under her breath.

“It’s basic science. If murder were the intention, after the first dose didn’t accomplish that, you would increase it and continue to increase it until you achieved the aforementioned state.” A small head shake is presented between explanations. “You wouldn’t only deliver enough to keep causing her discomfort that has her in and out of my care.”

“Unless the goal is to create discomfort,” J.T. casually point out.

“Precisely.”

I can’t stop myself from throwing my hands into the air. “Why do I feel that’s worse?!”

“Because it implies that none of this was an accident. Your mother is the target of someone’s rage or unhappiness.”

“ But why? ” she softly squeaks. “ Why me? ”

“You’re reaching, Hamilton,” Wes defensively chomps. “ Significantly. ”

“I’m not.” His refusal to back down blatantly continues. “The chances that someone is accidentally infecting my patient are slim to none, a conclusion gathered through hours of reviewing patient data – such as symptoms, start dates, stop dates, durations – and comparing it to known popular ingestible toxins.” He maintains his even demeanor. “ Because of the way her body responded and mine , I believe I’ve been able to narrow down the list.”

“Of suspects?!” I fly to the edge of my seat at the same time I snap, “Because I’ll get ‘em to fucking talk! Believe me. My bite is much worse than my bark!”

“There aren’t suspects ,” the man beside me seethes and rises to his feet. “I’m sure this is all just some sort of major misunderstanding.”

“You’re right , Mr. Wilcox,” is sarcastically tossed over my shoulder at the same time he begins to slowly pace. “I’m sure someone trying to kill my mom is just a ‘major misunderstanding’.”

“No one is trying to kill her!”

“You don’t get to make that call!”

“Like I said ,” Hamilton stresses, summoning our stares back to him, “I don’t believe murder was the intention. Just… discomfort. ”

“Why would someone want me uncomfortable?”

“Motive is not my area of expertise,” the doctor gently reminds. “However, accessibility may at least help Park in his search for answers.”

“How so?” Puppet Boy quickly investigates.

“While you can flat out buy a number of poisons from people who specialize in selling it, it’s more inconspicuous when you are the one mixing the compound-”

“Which requires scientific knowledge!” I excitedly exclaim.

“Not necessarily…” J.T.’s cautious interjection warrants my glare. “Nowadays, it’s like building a bomb. Anyone with access to the internet, ingredients, and basic comprehension skills can do it.”

“That’s not fucking helpful then.”

“It is ,” Hamilton regains control of the situation, “because the easiest way for absorption is consumption in the form of food or drink.”

“Someone with access to the kitchen?” comes out as more of a question than intended.

“That’s everyone ,” Mom defeatedly announces.

“To create this type of homemade concoction, a person could possibly be using a variation of herbs-”

“Someone with gardening knowledge,” I verbally begin to list. “Like the gardening group? Or the tree trim dude?”

“Or they could use spices-”

“Culinary knowledge.” There’s no stopping me from snapping my stare to Mom’s. “Do you really trust Lucky?”

“ Of course she trusts him! ” my boyfriend barks. “ He’s trustworthy! ”

“Little redundant,” J.T. mumbles more to himself than us.

“Maybe it’s a long con!” It’s my turn to spring to my feet to face him during my panicking. “Maybe he’s been waiting for the perfect time to get my mom out of the way for…for…for…”

“ For what?! ” he aggressively yells.

“ Idontfuckingknow! ” Yet again my hands fly into the air. “I like just got here!”

“ Then I suggest you keep your baseless accusations about my staff. To. Your. Self. Miss Winters. ”

“ And I suggest you stop pretending you live in a perfect fucking fairytale, Mr. Wilcox. ”

“Enough,” Mom calmly declares causing the two of us to present each other with space.

Significant. Distance.

“It probably isn’t Lucky,” Puppet Boy pops into the argument, “however, didn’t you almost get one of his staff fired a few weeks ago?” Our attention all swings to my mom. “Shortly before all this started?”

“ Reprimanded. ” Recollection immediately lights itself up in her expression. “I got her reprimanded for chipping one of the China teacups. Penny told Clark what she saw. He reported it to me – because I’m Head of the Household – and I brought up the issue with Lucky who then handled it.” She shifts her gaze to meet with the man who employs her. “I do my absolute best not to micromanage the different departments, sir.”

He offers her a nod of understanding. “You have built an incredible system here.”

“And yet someone is trying to kill her,” I less than quietly remind.

“ Not. Kill. ” Hamilton unhappily snips. “Simply… torment. ”

“Yes, torture is much better than killing, Bones.”

“Logically speaking it is,” Puppet Boy cringes.

“Herbs and spices are the most likely candidates used for creating this sort of chemical mixture,” Hamilton struggles not to wince, “but there’s also another option.”

The unspoken possibility is one that’s already crossed my mind. “ Don’t say it. ”

“Certain types of aquatic creatures can and do carry natural toxins that can be harmful to humans.”

“ Knew it. ” Folding my arms across my chest is attached to an annoyed headshake. “I fucking knew you were going to say that.” More irritation glows in my glare. “One way or another ocean life always gets blamed for people’s mistakes like it’s their fault humans do stupid shit.”

“Not the time for that lecture, Bryn,” Mom firmly scolds, prompting me to shut my mouth.

“In my medical opinion ,” Hamilton speaks firmer and louder, “until we have definitive answers for the type of compound and a clear idea of the culprit, you, Lauren, are not to eat or drink anything that isn’t handmade and/or directly bought as well as brought to you by someone in this room.”

“I’m going to the grocery store right now,” I declare on a move towards the door.

“That’s unnecessary,” my boyfriend doesn’t hesitate to decide.

“Feeding my mom untainted food is not unnecessary!”

“ Assuming that all the food in the estate is compromised is idiotic. ”

“And assuming that all your employees are as virtuous as your sex life has been for the last decade is na?ve. ”

“Do not speak to me about people I’ve known longer than you’ve been able to hold down a steady job.” He takes a firm step forward. “And do not tell me how to handle my household.”

“How about you don’t speak to me. At. All. ” The definitiveness of my statement receives an undeniable rumble that I have no problem ignoring as I lock eyes with Hamilton. “ I am going to get my mom groceries – since I know I can trust me.” Another grunt of vexation is easily disregarded. “Please, have Park get in contact with me about the security measures he plans to put in place to insure her protection until the suspect is caught.” One last glare is given to the man I’m having second thoughts about dating. “And they will be caught, Mr. Wilcox, whether you believe they exist or not.”