Chapter 92

One morning, I’m walking through the common room, when Beau catches my arm and forces me to sit on the couch. It feels like an intervention, with me sitting, and the four brothers hovering over me, glaring down.

Archer is holding Mia. She claps as she looks at me, so at least someone is happy to see me.

“What’s all this about?” I ask.

Beau frowns the deepest. “The state of you.”

I glance down at myself. I look the same as always.

“You’ve been wearing those same clothes over and over again,” Steven says, sounding somewhat worried.

“So?” That’s what people do with clothes?

“They’re worn,” Neil says.

I wouldn’t call them worn, I’d call them comfortable. Sure, the elbows and wrists and wearing a little thin, but that happens over time.

“We can’t buy her new clothes,” Beau says. “Not after what happened last time. She’ll just sell them again.”

“I don’t need new clothes,” I say. “But I wouldn’t sell anything again.”

Beau huffs a sharp exhale. He doesn’t believe me.

“Let her wear rags,” Archer says.

“That would make all of us look bad,” Neil argues. “She is part of the Hayes Council and therefore should dress as such.”

Great, so the only reason rags didn’t win out is because they don’t want me to embarrass them. I want to roll my eyes but I stop myself, worried I won’t be able to stop once I start.

“Maybe I could pick out my own clothes this time?”

Four pairs of eyes snap to me. Five if you count Mia, though she quickly becomes distracted with the zipper on Archer’s hoodie.

“Hell, no,” Archer says.

“The purpose is for you not to humiliate us, Nanny,” Beau says.

Neil frowns. “Maybe if one of us went with her, to oversee her choices.”

Archer and Beau immediately turn their dagger eyes to him.

“Are you out of your mind?” Beau asks.

“You are being too nice,” Archer says.

Steven rubbed a hand along the back of his neck. “We may be able to trust her if she has some investment in the clothes. If she likes them, she’ll be less likely to want to get rid of them.”

That makes sense to me so I nod.

“It’s something to consider,” Neil says. They’re all differing to Neil. It seems he is the one who gets to make the final choice.

“What the hell happened to you, Neil?” Archer snaps. “You’ve gotten soft.”

It’s not soft to actually care about something! I want to shout, but I bite my tongue. Defending Neil will only make things worse for him in this crowd.

Neil doesn’t need me to defend him, though. He can be intimidating all on his own. As I watch, he straightens and stares down each of his brothers, as if daring them to challenge him.

“My decision is final.”

Archer grumbles as he sharply turns and carries Mia away.

Beau shrugs. “Your funeral.”

Steven gives me a small smile.

Neil sighs. “Get ready, Chloe. We’re going shopping.”

With the way he stood up for me, I can’t help but wonder if this is his way of apologizing. But I quickly push the notion aside.

He’s just worried about being embarrassed. That’s it.

Later, Neil leads me into a store with white walls and floors. Full body mannequin, with wigs and even fingernails, dot along the showroom floor. There are clothing racks but not many items are hanging on them.

I pick up a simple white sweater and search for the price tag. It has a designer tag, but nothing that displays the actual price.

I know what that means. If the price isn’t marked, it’s always something outrageous.

I carefully place the sweater back down.

“Maybe we can go somewhere else?” I suggest.

Neil ignores me. He walks up to the counter. A salesclerk looks up from the shirt she’s folding. A smile immediately stretches her red-painted lips. Her nametag reads Donna.

“Neil Hayes! A pleasant surprise. How may we help you today, sir?”

She looks at Neil like she has money signs in her eyes and is already counting her commission. I can’t blame her, but I do feel a stir of discomfort in my gut.

For better or worse, I kind of like Neil. I’m not super thrilled about someone only seeing him for his deep pockets.

“My companion…” Neil waves to me.

I’m standing uncertainly in the center of the floor, afraid to move too much and somehow dirty something. I’d take me years to pay for anything in here.

Donna looks at me. I wave a little, awkwardly. Her smile wavers for only a half-second before returning full blast. She really is a professional.

“She needs new clothing,” Neil says. “Shirts, sweaters, pants, the works. Whatever she wants. But, she has to like it.”

“Oh, I can guarantee we will have plenty of clothes she will adore.” Donna rounds the counter and comes closer to me. She sizes me up some. Hopefully she’s just mentally taking my measurements and not judging me for being such a fish out of water.

She’s nice enough, I guess. If she notices my discomfort, she doesn’t draw any attention to it.

She claps her hands together. “Okay. Let’s see what we can do for you, dear. What kind of clothes do you usually prefer?”

“Uh… jeans and t-shirts, I guess.”

Donna stares at me blankly.

Neil clears his throat.

I force a laugh, like I told a joke. “Just kidding!”

Donna laughs too. She looks relieved. “Very funny, dear. You are a quick one. I’ll have to keep my eye on you!”

Neil runs a hand over his forehead.

“Um,” I say. “Maybe we can just try to keep it simple?”

“We can do that! Follow me!” Donna says.

I follow Donna through the store. Occasionally, she plucks something from a shelf and turns it for me to see. I either nod or shake my head. If I shake my head, the item gets returned to the shelf. If I nod, another employee appears out of the woodwork, takes the garment, and disappears into a side room.

Knowing Neil is nearby and judging me, I try to select nicer things than I really need. If this is an apology, I don’t want to be a dick about it, especially with the scorn he’s getting from his brothers to do this.

I follow Donna through the entire store. Honestly, after a while, I can’t even remember what I said I liked or didn’t like anymore. But I must be doing okay because Donna doesn’t even blink an eye.

As we reach the far end of the showroom, I glance back at Neil. I expect him to be on his phone, working as usual, or casually perusing the men’s selection.

Instead, his eyes are on me. I can’t read his expression from this distance, but I feel the weight of that gaze as firmly as if he was physically pressing into me.

I shiver.

I wonder what he sees, when he looks at me following Donna around. Does he immediately notice our differences? Her in high heels, with her highlighted hair done up. Me, in flats and worn shirts, with my hair loose and a bit wild.

I’m not self-conscious. I’m cool with how I look.

But… I still want to look good to him.

I groan at my own pathetic nature. What Neil thinks about me shouldn’t matter in the slightest!

But it does. And I fucking hate it.