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  Before she could mutter anything in response, Johansson asked, “Who writes these questions? Surely you’re not this dumb?”

  And with that, he walked away. Her eyes widened more as she looked to the camera. She sucked in a deep breath, her cheeks reddening with color. “I’m Brie Soledad, wishing you a wonderful night.”

  And she prayed to God the fans of the Assassins had one, because she knew from that moment on, she wouldn’t.

  After waking up with the headache of all headaches, Brie decided that the half of a bottle of vodka she drank the previous night wasn’t her smartest move. She had no choice, though. She had to forget that interview, the ass-chewing she received from Russell, and then the phone call from Elli Adler. Apparently, according to Russell, it was her job to control Vaughn Jo-FuckFace, while Elli Adler apologized for Vaughn’s blowup and promised it wouldn’t happen again. It made her feel a little better, but at the same time, she just couldn’t stand that dude. He was such a prick. Yes, the questions sucked, she agreed, but where was his professionalism? Was he raised in a barn?

  Goodness!

  Pinching the bridge of her nose, Brie closed her eyes as the eerie silence of the exam room made her want to scream. Rod sat beside her, playing on his phone as she had a mini panic attack. She wasn’t worried she would lose her job, Elli Adler had promised she would not only speak with Russell but Jo-FuckFace too, but she hated looking ill-prepared on camera. It was hard enough being a woman in an all-male sport, where male reporters got ahead because women apparently didn’t know shit about a man’s sport. It didn’t matter that she grew up in the rink, that she loved hockey and knew everything about it. That she went to the best journalism school, Syracuse, where she was top of her class and was almost always the lead anchor for their channel. She covered all the sports because people loved to listen to her talk. And she wasn’t a dumb blonde like he made her out to be. She was amazing, damn it!

  Vaughn Jo-FuckFace wasn’t going to ruin her.

  “Hey, Brie. I need to talk to you.”

  She exhaled loudly before looking to her baby brother. Like her, he had bright blue eyes that sparkled so sweetly. His light blond hair was shaggy, into his eyes, though she begged him to cut it. His face was round and full of life, and boy, did she love him. So damn much. “Yes, Rodney.”

  “Rod. I’m a man.”

  “Yes, of course, Rod. What’s up?”

  “I want to talk to you about moving.”

  She groaned, letting her head fall back. He hated the assisted living place she had him in, but she couldn’t afford anything else. Yes, that was her fault, but there wasn’t anything she could do about it. She made great money, but she was still paying off all her mother’s debts and her hospital bills. She had been concerned about having enough money to cover the new rent she was about to owe. But with the building Elli Adler had just bought for her players, she insisted Brie take the discounted rent too. Really, she’d be stupid not to. She was paying one-quarter the actual rent of the apartment she was about to live in. And she prayed, she prayed so hard, that maybe Rod would get well enough to move in with her. Or that she hit the lottery and could hire private care.

  Either would be great.

  “Rod, we’ve discussed this. I can’t afford it, and you need the extra help.”

  He held his hands up, much larger than her own, as he nodded exaggeratedly. “I know, but this place… I can get a sponsorship. At least, that’s what the guy said.”

  Her face scrunched up. “What guy?”

  “The guy who came to visit me at my home. He was cool.”

  “When? Who?”

  “I don’t know. His name is Nate Way, and his place is called NateWay. He said he can get me a sponsorship to live there. It’s like my own house. I need this, B. I need to get out of the old folks’ place and with my kind of people. I’m dying in there—”

  Suddenly, the door opened, and the doctor walked in. Thankfully, because Brie needed to do research on this NateWay place since she hadn’t heard a thing about it. She also needed to call and talk to the director of the home because who was this dude coming in and seeing her brother? Wasn’t there a privacy law? What the hell? Annoyed, she looked to her brother and nodded. “We’ll talk about this later.”

  “When?”

  “Later.”

  He threw his hands to his thighs in frustration as he whined, “Brie—”

  “Rod, I promise, later,” she stressed before looking back to the doctor. “Hey, Dr. Miller.”

  “Hello, Brie. Rod, how ya feeling, buddy?”

  Rod was upset. It was visible as he mumbled, “Fine.”

  “What’s wrong?” Dr. Miller asked as he listened to Rod’s breathing and then his heart.

  “My sister doesn’t listen to me.”

  “I do listen, Rod, I promise. I’ll look into it.”

  “I have a pamphlet!” he almost yelled before digging it out of his pocket and handing it to Brie. She took it, but she knew in her heart it wouldn’t work out. She had looked into those private neighborhoods for Down syndrome adults, and none of them ever had a sponsorship. She hadn’t even heard of this one, and she swore she was going to kill the person who planted this seed in her brother’s brain.

  “Thank you,” she said, taking it and looking at the front of it as Dr. Miller continued his exam. It was a colorful ad, something designed to catch the eye of someone like Rod. It looked great too, just like the others. Little, individual houses, and it even had nurses on site. It would be perfect for Rod. He’d love it, especially since it was only three minutes down the road from her new apartment. But she assumed the living cost was way out of her budget.

  She folded it up, her heart sinking because she knew he would ask more about this, and there was no way she would be able to afford it. As she went to tuck it into her purse, she noticed a handwritten number and the name Nate. She wasn’t sure what that meant, but she wouldn’t be finding out. She wasn’t sure if what Rod said was true. He sometimes didn’t listen all the way, only heard what he wanted. She wouldn’t call, asking for something that wasn’t offered. She just couldn’t.

  “So, we have a problem,” Dr. Miller said, stealing her attention. She looked up, her eyes widening as she held his gaze. “The echocardiogram didn’t show what we wanted, unfortunately.”

  “It didn’t?” she struggled to ask.

  “No, the electrical conductivity isn’t working properly, so we’ll need to put a pacemaker in.”

  Her heart dropped once more. “Another surgery?”

  “Regrettably, yes.”

  Rod groaned beside her. He had already had two of them in his adult life, and they weren’t something he bounced back from quickly. Plus, they stressed Brie out to the extreme.

  “When?”

  “Soon, probably before the new year, and he’ll be down for about a month.”

  Rod groaned once more as Brie slowly shook her head. “How long will he be in the hospital?”

  “A week.”

  She closed her eyes as Rod complained beside her. “But you said we could go to Harry Potter World after New Year’s.”

  She nodded as she met his gaze. “I know, bub, but I don’t think we’ll make it this time.”

  As her brother’s shoulders dropped and his little bottom lip popped out, failure washed over Brie once more. She was starting to think that was the only emotion she would ever feel, and that alone gave her no good outlook on the new year.

  But then, that was the theme of her life.

  Bad luck.

  “Dude! Tricksie ate my shoes!”

  Tricksie’s ears perked up as Vaughn looked over to his best friend who was coming out of the back bedroom, holding said pair of shoes that were obviously mangled to hell. While his girl was a good three years old, they had found she had a bit of a chewing issue. “They were ugly anyway. She was helping you out.”

  Jensen glared. “I love these shoes. She needs to be locked up when we leave.”