I got up, went to the bathroom, and belatedly took out contacts that had been in way too long. I left the bathroom and grabbed one of Brock’s flannels, pulling it on to cover my nightie, thinking I might need either to break my vow not to go to the mall or hit a computer to buy a robe to leave at Brock’s since the only one I owned at home was warm, fluffy, and I’d had it since before Damian and therefore it was ratty-assed.

I needed a Brock’s Place Robe.

I dashed downstairs, dug my glasses out of my purse, slid them on my nose, ran back upstairs, and sat down on the bed closer to Joel than he sat by me and I let out a silent sigh when he didn’t move away.

Then we waited for a decade (slight exaggeration) while Brock paced, or, more aptly, prowled the room, his pissed-off energy filling the air.

Joel and I both jumped when Brock’s cell rang.

Instantly, he flipped it open and put it to his ear.

“Detective Lucas,” he answered, then, “Yeah.” A pause before another “Yeah.” Then more listening and scarily a “No shit, this is my life.” Another pause, then, “Yeah, cryin’ wolf, won’t happen again.” Finally, “Yeah, thanks,” and he flipped his phone shut.

He turned to Joel.

“No sign of intruders, buddy. Your mother is perfectly fine and the officer reports Dade answered the door. Dade reported his alarm system is comprehensive, inside and out, and it was set. Anyone gets within two feet of the perimeter of an entry into the house, including a window, a signal sounds inside the house, goes to the security company, and if one of the windows or doors are breached, a message is sent direct to police dispatch. Did you know that?”

Head tipped back to look at his dad, Joel shook it slowly while his lip trembled.

God, God, God, I fucking hated Olivia McManus-soon-to-be-whatever-the-fuck.

“The alarm did not signal,” Brock told him.

Joel nodded, lip still trembling.

Brock held his son’s eyes. Then he sucked in a heavy breath.

Finally, he held out an arm and said gently, “Come on, buddy, I’ll walk you to your room.”

Joel nodded again, got up, muttered a “ ’Night, Tess, sorry,” without looking at me and scurried out of the room.

Brock followed him without looking at me either.

I scooted into the bed, arranged the pillows behind my back, rested against them, legs crossed, and I pulled the covers up to my waist. I noticed that my happy-cosmopolitans-with-the-girls buzz was long gone and my other happier-having-fun-with-Brock buzz was way gone.

Yep, totally fucking hated Olivia McManus-soon-to-be-whatever-the-fuck.