Brooke pulled into her spot and let the engine tick quiet. She'd dropped Ashley at her parents' house and now her own body felt used up. It had been a long day, coupled with the news of her being at a pharmacy.
She knew the picture had been photoshopped as she was the one who did the buying. Another push alert lit her phone. She didn't open it.
The elevator doors slid, and Neville was there, leaning on the kitchen island like he'd been listening for the sound of her keys.
"Long day?" he asked.
"You have no idea." She set her bag down and tried a smile that almost stuck.
"Please tell me there's tea."
"I made something better." He held up a bottle. "Half pour. You're going nowhere."
She huffed a laugh. "I'll allow it."
He poured like he wrote briefs: clean, neat, no waste. He slid the glass over, then fixed one for himself.
His hands were steady. It helped.
"Do I get the headline-free version," he said, "or are we doing the full broadcast?"
