“Do you ever go home, Henry?” I ask. It seems like he’s here every time I show up.

He smiles softly, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “My wife had a stroke recently, so I work to pay for her medical care right now.” He shrugs. “They offer me the extra hours, so I take them.”

“I’m sorry to hear about your wife,” I say. “Will she be all right?”

His eyes skitter away from mine. “I certainly hope so.” His chest fills with air as he sighs. “She’s at a nursing home temporarily.” He smiles. “I saw her at lunch, and I’ll go there to sleep tonight.”

I squeeze his shoulder. If there were ever a man who needed a hug, it’s Henry. In Bro Code, a shoulder squeeze is the same as a hug. “You should go home. You might rest better there.”

He smiles and says, “I can’t sleep without her, so I might as well sleep at the nursing home. I’d rather sleep in a recliner holding her hand than sleep in the biggest, softest bed in the world.” He shakes his head. “Someday you’ll know what it’s like to wake up with one woman every day for almost forty years.” He points toward the elevator. “You’ll have the pitter-patter of little feet in the early years.”

I point to my ears and laugh. “I can’t hear a pitter-patter, Henry.” He looks slightly chagrined. “But I get the idea.”

“Miss Madison, she’s the one for you, isn’t she?” he asks.

My heart swells. “The only one.”

He claps my shoulder this time. “Then go get her.” He shoves my shoulder, pushing me toward the elevator. “Go on now. You don’t have to keep an old man company.”

I smile and wave at him, going toward the elevator. I turn back at the last minute. “If I can help with your wife, Henry, please let me know. I have a lot of brothers, and they’re really good for moving furniture and stuff. When she’s ready to come home.”

He grins. “I’ll take you up on that.”

“They’re not good for much else,” I shout as the elevator doors close. Except for supporting me in everything that I do. Except for loving me unconditionally. Except for when they kick my ass for being stupid. They’re useless, all right.

I smile all the way up the elevator. I don’t knock when I get to Emily’s door. Instead, I use my key.

Emily

Trip gets in the elevator behind me and has the nerve to try to back me into a corner. His arms go to each side of my head, trapping me. I turn my face, because he’s had too much to drink. His breath smells like straight-up Jack Daniels.

He was really quiet in the limo coming home, but I have known him long enough to see all the signs. I put my hand on his chest and shove. “Move back, Trip,” I say.

He leans down, breathing into my face. I turn my head and close my eyes. Fighting with Trip when he’s drunk is like kicking a puppy. A rabid puppy who won’t stop foaming at the mouth and trying to bite you. It’s the only kind of puppy I wouldn’t mind kicking in the teeth.

“I don’t want to move back,” he says, slurring as he talks to me. “You used to like it when we were close like this. You said I didn’t show you enough affection.”

He runs his meaty hand down the side of my face. “Back up, Trip,” I warn him again. All it would take is one big push, and he’d be flat on his tail. I’m sure of that.

The elevator dings, and I duck beneath his arm. He groans and follows me to the door. “Hurry up,” he grouses. “I have to piss.”

I shake my head, let him in, and he runs by me, heading straight for the bathroom. He doesn’t close the bathroom door, and I can hear him. There’s no need to even try to talk to him about respect and his lack of it. He’s too drunk.

I look longingly at the front door. Now that he’s inside the apartment, I can catch a cab and go to Logan’s. My heart warms at the idea of it. I turn toward the door. There’s nothing I need here. My bag is still at Logan’s apartment. And so is my heart.

Trip grabs my elbow and says, “Where do you think you’re going?” just as I reach for the door.

“I’m going to Logan’s,” I say. There’s no need to lie to him. “Get out of my way.”

He stands between me and the door with his arms folded, his feet spread wide. Shoot. I should just go to my room and wait for him to pass out. I turn to walk in that direction, but he grabs for me again. I jerk my arm from his grip. That hurts.

“Stop it, Trip,” I say. “Just go to bed.”

He grabs my hips and pulls me to him, grinding himself against me. “I will if you’ll go with me.”

I wouldn’t go to the store with him, much less to bed. “You’re drunk, Trip. Go sleep it off.”

“I’m not so drunk that I can’t get it up,” he says.

Yes, I can feel that much against my stomach where he’s pressed against me. I take a deep breath and take his face in my hands, looking into his eyes. “Go to bed,” I say softly. “We’ll talk tomorrow.”

He bends his head and presses a kiss to my neck. Then he bites down, sucking hard on my skin. I shove him back, covering my neck with my hand. “What was that, Trip?” I shout. “God, what’s wrong with you?”

“It’s just a little love bite,” he says, grinning. “You used to love for me to nibble on your neck.”