Chapter 52：Mia

Or did Andy really belong to him in some way?

A dreadful thought struck me, and my heart raced. Oh God! What if Andy was in some sort of contract with Matt like I was with James? My body shook, and a fearful groan escaped my lips.

The door opened, and once I saw Andy, I flew into his arms and hugged him tight.

Andy gasped in surprise. Once he realized it was me, he relaxed and wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm so glad you're still here," I said, my face snuggled against his shoulder.

"Of course. I'm always here," he said. "Why are you so freaked out?"

I drew back. That was Andy all right. He always saw right through me.

He led me into the room as I said, "I thought you might have gone out to work or something." I wasn't sure what type of work it was, and I desperately wanted to find out.

He chuckled. "Yeah, I work. But not until the afternoon."

I dreaded this. "What type of work do you do?"

He was vague, as though he didn't really want to tell me. "This and that." He smiled cheekily, and I was once again struck by how gorgeous my brother was.

I sat down on the sofa and frowned at him. "What is this and that?"

He sat beside me and looked down at the coffee table, his brown eyes intense. "Mostly, I work as a waiter. The private club section."

"They have private clubs here?" I asked, wondering what that was.

He chuckled. "Yeah. The pay is very good."

The sound of very good pay for a waiter had me suspicious. "It's not dangerous, is it?"

Andy flicked his eyes to me for a brief second and then lowered them again. "No."

My stomach dropped. Shit! I knew he was lying. I knew Andy too well. But how could a job as a waiter be dangerous?

"Andy, you're really a waiter, aren't you?" I couldn't keep the tremor from surfacing in my voice. The thought of him doing anything remotely dangerous scared me. We'd been through enough of that shit to last us a lifetime.

He shrugged. "I am a waiter, Mia." He confirmed adamantly. "Now stop pestering me about my career. I know it's a bullshit job. But I'm working on it. When I'm out of this mess, I promise I'll go to college and study business and, you know, really change my life."

"How long will that take?" I asked, staring at him long and hard. I knew Andy could do it. He was intelligent. He had very good marks back in high school, jumping grades and everything. He even landed himself a scholarship. If only certain shit didn't happen with Uncle Herbert, destroying his self-esteem, then he would have been a college graduate by now and working in a proper company, earning a steady living. Maybe even with a nice girl to settle down with.

"I don't know. Maybe another three to four years," he said.

I smiled at him. "Are you looking forward to it?"

He looked a little lost at my question. He glanced away, and I saw the slight panic in his eyes. "I… I don't know."

I frowned. Surely he must be looking forward to a better future?

"You do want to leave this type of life, right?" I glanced around the place and thought actually, this was quite nice. The room, I meant.

I used that to encourage him. "Imagine this as your own place and not Matt's."

He smiled. "Yeah. That bastard. I'm going to get me a place like this myself, just to show him I can do it. Just to show him I mean business."

I laughed. "That would be so wonderful, Andy. You'll have a room for me when I come to visit, yeah?"

He pulled me into his arms and chuckled. "Are you kidding me? Visiting? No way. You're staying with me, sis. Once I get to that stage, you'll quit that pathetic job of yours and will be living with me."

I snorted. "What about your girlfriend or wife or whatever?"

I watched him closely and saw the dark look in his eyes again. "I'm not interested in that, Mia."

I licked my lips and nodded. "I guess you want to get your life sorted out first. I understand. I'd do the same. It's easier, isn't it?"

He sighed. "No, that's not what I mean. I'm never going to get me a wife. Or a girlfriend for that matter."

"Huh?" I sat up and stared at him.

"Do you hate me, Mia?" he asked, desperation in his voice.

My heart ached for him. I didn't know what he meant, but regardless of what it was, I'd always support him.

"I'd never hate you, Andy. You're my brother," I said, hugging him tight.

He stroked my back and nodded. "Thanks, sis. You're awesome." He leaned back and frowned. "And why the hell are you wearing such a big shirt?"

I smiled and shrugged. "Would you believe me if I told you a very tiny canine destroyed most of my clothes I brought along with me? Followed by a humongous canine who likes to rip my clothes for fun?"

He blinked and then burst out laughing. "What the hell!" He continued laughing merrily, and I loved that. I loved it when he laughed with such abandonment, as if he didn't have a care in the world. In a way, it signified to me that life for him was good, and I was happy and relieved.

Once he managed to stop, he said, "We have the worst of luck, eh? You and I?"

I agreed by nodding.

Andy stood. "Come on. Take that off. I'll lend you my shirt. At least we're pretty close in size."

"No, that's okay," I said, blushing. The reason I didn't want to take off the shirt was because of the bruises on my body, and also, I couldn't bear to part with James's shirt. I'd come to like it so very much.

Andy caught my wrist and pulled me up to him. "We're siblings, Mia. I know we're not the same gender, but what the heck? Better you wear my shirt than that humongous thing. It looks like you're drowning in it."

It was true. I looked ridiculous. I burst out laughing. "You're right."

"See?" Andy confirmed. Then he led me around the coffee table toward the walk-in wardrobe on the other side nearer the bathroom and bed.

Inside, I gasped at how immaculate the place was. Expensive, sleek suits, shirts, and pants hung neatly on the hangers. Ties were folded and placed in their slots. Gosh. Talk about a neat freak. Everything was clean and sleek and just so OCD.

"Wow! It's very immaculate in here," I commented.

"I keep my side nice and tidy too," Andy said, drawing my attention to him. "You know me."

Yes, I knew my brother. He liked his place clean and tidy, like me. But not to the extreme like this, and I knew it was Matt. I should call him Matt the clean freak! Or Matt the control freak! Matt the OCD freak!

"But, you know, sometimes I mess it up just to piss him off," he said, a hint of teasing in his voice. "And it really pissed him off." I noted he was shuddering slightly, and a smile crept across his lips.

"What type of relationship do you have with Matt?" I couldn't help asking. They were sharing a place and a wardrobe. And Matt certainly did not treat Andy like his friend.

James and Matt? Yes, they were definitely friends. But not Andy with Matt. There was something else, deeper and weirder, between the two that I couldn't put my finger on.

I watched Andy as his hands paused on one of the shirts. There was a long silence, as though he were struggling with the answer himself.

I felt uncomfortable. I loved Andy, but his relationships with other people were his business, not mine. I felt like I'd just overstepped my boundary and worked to rectify myself.

"I'm sorry, Andy. You don't need to answer that question."

"No," he said quietly. "That's not it." Another pause and then, "I don't know. I don't know what our relationship is."

He sighed deeply and unhooked that particular shirt. It was a light-blue-and-dark-gray-checked shirt. He handed it to me and then proceeded to find me a pair of jeans.

"Andy, no need for the jeans. Just the shirt will do."

He glanced at me and shook his head. "With that short dress, you're way too tempting for those lousy men on the streets, Mia. You don't understand men. You're too innocent, living in such a small town where no one knows you exist. I was innocent too. Until I came here."

He grabbed a pair of jeans from a slot in the corner and handed them over to me. "Here, change."

I took the offered pants and nodded. "Okay. Thanks, Andy."

He chuckled. "No problem."

I began to undo the button as he turned. He was about to head out the door when he stopped in his tracks and just stared at me. He looked sick.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "Andy?"

He didn't say a word, just grabbed my wrist and peeled the material of my shirt over my chest.

"What the hell?" he swore, his eyes dark.