Hidden Away
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Synopsis
Most people consider Dr. Isaac Brandt to be old-fashioned, stodgy, and prone to lecturing. Certainly, Delilah Fitzpatrick does. Isaac doesn't know how to get on her good side, to show her that he could be the man for her. His friends try to push the two of them together, but Delilah wants nothing to do with him that doesn't involve work.
Lilah Fitzpatrick is intimidated by Isaac's genius. She admires his work and is excited to be collaborating with him on a graphic novel series, but she keeps her emotional distance, preventing even the shallowest of friendships. She has enough on her plate, and dating is at the bottom of a long list of priorities. When Isaac declares he wants a relationship with Lilah, she doesn't know what to think. What she does know is that he would be better off with a woman as smart as he is, and she is not that woman.
But fate steps in and hidden dangers from Isaac's past find him and threaten his chance at happiness. And puts Delilah in the crosshairs of a killer. Isaac has no choice but to tell his friends the secrets he holds, secrets he's held for fifteen years, and take steps to keep Delilah safe. Even if that means sacrificing his budding relationship with her.
Note from author: “This is the third book in the Cantwell Quartet four-book series, approximately 53,000 words. Please note this is an open-door romance. I hope you enjoy.” – Lizzy Castle.
Release date: March 6, 2024
Publisher: In The Air Publishing
Print pages: 207
Content advisory: Open door romance.
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Hidden Away
Elizabeth Castle
Chapter One
Dr. Isaac Brandt was not having a good day. It had started when he knocked his coffee over and the porcelain cup splintered and spilled everywhere. Then he had somehow managed to kick his big toe into the stool at his kitchen counter. While cursing and trying to clean up the mess, he had cracked his head on the overhang of the island counter.
Then because days that start like that continue like that, his laptop died and wouldn’t restart, he accidentally bleached his favorite pair of jeans, and burned his dinner. So it was with the house smelling like smoke, the kitchen floor still sticky from the coffee, his laptop in pieces at his kitchen table, and wearing bleached jeans that he opened the door when it rang.
“You look like hell.” Nash Camhion came in, and he glanced toward the kitchen. His black brow rose.
“Don’t ask.” Isaac shut the door behind his friend. He knew how he looked. His hair was disheveled, his glasses were askew, and his usually impeccable appearance was marred by the untucked shirt and bleach-stained pants.
“Have to. Did you burn something?”
“Dinner.”
Nash headed toward the kitchen, staring at the burnt mess. “May I ask when the last time you burned a meal was?”
Isaac shrugged as he scraped the rest of the burnt food into the trash and set the pan to soak. “I don’t know. Six, maybe.”
Nash took a seat at the island while Isaac set about making a replacement meal. Nash watched as Isaac deftly chopped a pile of vegetables. “I would have loved to see the look on your dad’s face the first time he caught you hanging out with the cook.”
Isaac set a pot to boil. He and his father had been at odds for as long as Isaac could remember. Dr. Theodore Brandt looked down on everyone, and that included his wife and son. Isaac had learned at an early age what type of man his father was. And he knew even as a child that he didn’t want to be anything like him. Instead of studying and reading, in his youth Isaac had spent most of his free time with the cook, the gardener, or one of the ladies who came in to clean. It hadn’t been by design to anger his father that Isaac had come to enjoy cooking, gardening, and cleaning more than he did studying, but by the time Isaac was old enough to want to defy his father, he’d already succeeded by excelling in tasks his father thought beneath him. His father had been horrified. His father had called him a plebeian, a commoner, ordinary, and every other word he could think of in his anger to put him down.
Isaac didn’t spend much time thinking about his father, but Nash’s comment did make him smile. “Horrified is a mild word.”
Nash accepted the beer Isaac handed him and pointed it at the disassembled laptop. “So, get any work done today? You said you’d have the first book ready.”
Isaac rubbed his forehead where a headache was forming. “Laptop crashed. Won’t restart. I was trying to figure out why it wouldn’t turn on. I have the first draft done, but unless you want to read it on your phone, I can’t show you.”
“Did you order another one?”
Isaac just looked at him.
Nash held up a hand. “Right. No laptop. You know, you could get with the times and get a smart phone. It’s embarrassing when you pull that old flip phone out of your pocket.”
Isaac laughed. He’d heard it before, but Isaac didn’t have a love for technology. His laptop made writing easier, but he still took notes by hand, graded papers by hand, read a physical book, and preferred to indulge in a game of chess or do a crossword puzzle rather than gaming on his laptop. His students at Georgetown called him a relic behind his back. But that didn’t bother him. Eventually even his most tech-savvy students came to appreciate his teaching methods, and he liked to think he was keeping the traditions of books and literature alive one student at a time.
Isaac turned to protest when he heard Nash on the phone.
“Hi, Lilah. Tomorrow, I need you to get Isaac a new laptop. You can take it out of the company’s expense account. And could you have it delivered to his house? Yeah, his died, and if we don’t get him a new one, he’s liable to start handwriting his new book. Thanks. See you tomorrow.”
“Why did you do that?” Isaac began sautéing the fresh pile of vegetables he had cut up.
“You have the worst handwriting. And Lilah is a woman of many talents. She’ll get you fixed up with the perfect laptop.”
Isaac pointed at him with the spatula. “You know how to order a computer as well as she does. And you know exactly what to buy. I wish you would stop.”
Nash was all innocence. “Stop what? You agreed to let Lilah work on the art for the graphic novels to complement the game. That means you need a laptop.”
Isaac went back to assembling dinner. Isaac and Nash, along with two other friends, Gideon and Trenton, had started a company called Cantwell. Cantwell’s first project was a video game based on a novel Isaac had written two summers ago. Nash had taken the idea and fast-tracked a role-playing adventure game based on the characters and story in Isaac’s book. Fantasy and romance were a departure for Isaac; he preferred science fiction when he tackled fiction, but the book had come to him, and he had written it during a two-week binge during summer break.
The story featured four men, four brothers, though not by blood. At its core, the book was about the four of them. They called themselves the quartet, and they had been friends since junior high. Each of the four men in the book described one of them: their looks, their personalities, their loves, and their fears. And while Isaac didn’t see them as knights in shining armor, the tale of four men fighting for the women who haunted their dreams was somewhat autobiographical.
Nash was the leader, both in life and in the book. In the book, the dark-haired prince is seeking revenge for the murder of his father, then his fiancée. He starts the quest to find the man responsible. In real life, Nash lost his grandfather, who had been murdered by the man who had kidnapped Nash. Years later, he lost his fiancée to drugs. Grief had drawn them together, but Maggie’s grief had been more than she could bear.
Gideon was the oldest, though not by more than two months, and very much the protector. Gideon thought of himself more as a sword than a shield, but Isaac saw both in him in equal parts. The character in his book bore the scars that Gideon bore and was the first into battle. On the surface, Gideon was a cop. The sword, as Isaac saw it. He sought to enforce laws and hunt down those who broke them. But inside there was insecurity and a reservedness. In that, Isaac saw him as a protector, a shield. Often his first instinct was to protect those smaller and weaker than him. It was almost a year now since Gideon married Penny, Nash’s younger sister. He would protect Penny with his life. And he wouldn’t hesitate to put himself between himself and any danger to those he loved, including the quartet. As a child, Gideon had saved Nash from the hands of his kidnapper.
Trenton was the youngest, and as Gideon was wont to point out, the shortest. Trenton was the comedian of the group, but beneath the humor was a very serious soul. These past months had done much to alleviate the shadows of the past that he had lived with his whole life. And his wife, Ginny, had brought a new spark to the humor. And Ginny’s daughter, Gwenny, had brought out a new level of love and protectiveness. There was lightness in him now, a true embrace of happiness and love.
Isaac, well, he thought of himself as the glue. If their life were a book, Nash was the book cover. The one that would draw you in. Gideon was the book spine, the one that kept the book standing. Trenton was the pages, with the words that enticed the reader to turn the page. And Isaac was the glue; the one that held the pieces together.
Gideon said he was the voice of reason. Nash said he was the professor. Trenton called him a stick in the mud. And he was. Isaac was studious like his father. When he’d gotten older, despite not wanting to love anything his father loved, he’d learned to love to read. Not the boring dissertations that his father read, but stories of space and time, stories of survival and discovery, and stories of the heart and strength that lived inside of people. Isaac loved history; he loved literature. That was what he taught. He loved language and found a whole new world by reading, in their original language, books from around the world.
But what Isaac really loved to do was write and cook. There was something satisfying in the creation of both a book and a perfect meal. And when Nash had asked him when the last time he’d burned a meal was, six was probably accurate. He’d started hanging out with the cook at five, and when he’d turned six, the cook had finally given in and let him help. The cook had called him an old soul. Young Isaac had been delighted with the description and could only agree.
Isaac took the meal off the burner and set it to cool. “Why don’t you clean up the mess I made with the laptop, and we can eat?”
Nash picked it all up and tossed it in the trash. “Done.”
Isaac glared at him. “We recycle electronics in this house.”
Nash left it in the trash. “Feel free to dig it out. I’m sure Lilah would be happy to recycle it for you.”
Lust and guilt punched him in the gut. He’d gotten used to the lust part. He’d known her for well over a year now. Nash had hired her to help develop and direct the graphic art for Cantwell. She was an incredibly gifted artist. She called herself an illustrator, but it was more than that. She’d helped bring Cantwell to life. He was as attracted to her mind as he was her body. She had long red hair that fell in waves to her waist. The freckles that were liberally sprinkled across her nose and cheeks enhanced her natural beauty. But her violet eyes were what drew him in. Lavender eyes, he thought.
She only hit his shoulder in height, and her clothes got baggier by the day. Lately he’d seen dark circles under her eyes. That’s where the guilt came in. In the six months since he’d been attacked, she’d run his errands, picked up his dry cleaning, ordered his groceries, and when his sight was at its worst, she’d helped him type up his work and even helped him pay his bills online. The past month, the vision in his left eye was good enough for him to handle the brightness of his laptop. And the tinted glasses he now wore every day also helped.
Isaac finished preparing the meal and brought two overflowing plates to the table.
Nash picked up his fork and dug in. “I don’t know how you make everything taste so good. And I still have never met anyone besides you who makes their own noodles by hand.”
Isaac didn’t answer. Homemade noodles were Nash’s favorite. Isaac refused to use electric mixers or devices to make his noodles. “Does Delilah seem okay to you?”
Nash’s arm stopped midway to his mouth. “No. I don’t think she is, if you want the truth. Between your ammonia burns and her being held at gunpoint by a madwoman, I don’t think either of you are doing well.”
Isaac didn’t want to talk about his burns. The attack had been meant for Trenton. The man who threw the concentrated liquid ammonia at his face had been hiding in the bushes. It was luck and timing that Isaac had even seen the man. And when Isaac saw the man coming at his best friend, Isaac had acted on instinct and put himself between Trenton and the attacker. The only thing Isaac remembered about the attack was the excruciating pain. His right eye was permanently damaged, and the doctors had told him there was nothing else they could do. His left eye had healed, but it had taken time and two surgeries. He had seen a plastic surgeon who said he could help reduce the scarring, but Isaac didn’t see the point. If his vision couldn’t be restored, what did a few burn scars matter?
Nash leaned over and put a hand on top of Isaac’s. “Trenton still blames himself. Ginny does, too. More Ginny. I know you don’t blame them. But I know how being a victim feels, Isaac. And if you won’t talk to professionals, then you should at least talk to your friends.”
Isaac had heard the same argument from his doctors. They said he’d experienced a trauma and that he needed to process it. “I know Trenton and Ginny feel guilty. No matter how many times I tell them I don’t blame them and that it wasn’t their fault. I can’t talk to Trenton about what happened.”
Nash squeezed his hand. “You two were always the closest of the quartet. But I’ve got a good ear, you know.”
Isaac closed his eyes. “I know you do. But you have your own demons to deal with.”
Nash released him. “Yeah, but my demons are twenty-six years old. Yours are new. And I didn’t lose my vision. You’ve been on leave from teaching for almost six months. You barely leave this house except for doctor’s appointments. It took you four months to write the first draft of our graphic novel. Something that I know you could have knocked out in a month before this happened. What happened will never leave you. Lilah, too. But she’s seeing a therapist that Gideon put her in touch with, and she’s trying to process what happened. Don’t let what happened to me be the reason you keep it to yourself.”
Isaac swallowed the lump in his throat. “I know. But I’m not sure what there is to say. It all happened so fast. And I barely remember anything after the initial attack and my waking up in the hospital. All I can think is that if the ammonia had hit Trenton straight in the face, we would have buried our friend. I guess for now, that’s enough for me.”
Nash nodded. “And me. I always thought Gideon was the one we had to worry about. The next pact we make, I think it needs to be no more crazies. Between my cousin Clara kidnapping Penny and trying to kill her, a crazed cultist trying to kill Trenton, and the crazed cultist’s mother trying to kill Lilah, Ginny, and her daughter Gwenny, I think we can all agree.”
Isaac laughed, even though Nash was dead serious. “I think we can all agree on that.”
They resumed eating. When Nash finished his plate, he sat back in his chair. “Man, that’s good stuff. I’m telling you; you’re wasted in academia. Next Cantwell venture is a restaurant, and I’m putting you in the kitchen.”
Isaac finished off his beer. “Somehow I can’t picture Gideon in a waiter’s uniform.”
Nash laughed. “How about Trenton as the busboy?”
Isaac smiled. “Works for me. And I assume you’re the maître d’.”
Nash undid his belt. “Yep. I’m the one who will charm them inside.”
Isaac went and grabbed another couple of beers. “Cheers.”
Nash tapped his bottle to Isaac’s. “So speaking of charm, Lilah and I have a date on Saturday.”
Isaac choked on his beer. “You what?”
Nash smiled behind his beer. “A date. You keep saying you’re not interested in her. And Lilah and I spend a lot of time together. She invited me to dinner. I accepted.”
Isaac slammed the bottle onto the table. “She asked you out?”
Nash took a large swallow. “Yep. Figured why not. She’s a little young for my taste, but she’s cute, she’s smart, and when we’re not arguing about the game, she’s fun to hang out with. You don’t mind, do you?”
Isaac’s eyes narrowed over the beer bottle. “Mind? Why would I mind?”
Nash sat back in his chair. “Good.”
It took everything in him to clean up the mess, talk shop, and not punch the smile off Nash’s face. By the time he shut and locked his front door, his teeth ached from clenching his jaw.
Isaac passed a mirror on the way to the stairs. He wanted to punch his reflection. Delilah could date anyone she wanted. He wasn’t anything to her. She barely tolerated his presence. When they worked together, she barely said a word that wasn’t related to work. Even when she was in his home, she kept her distance, kept all chatter strictly professional, and said her goodbyes.
And so what if she liked Nash? Nash wasn’t as much of a playboy as the press painted him to be, not these days anyway. Being the heir to the Camhion fortune garnered him a lot of attention. Right now he was using that attention to his advantage. Word was already buzzing around Cantwell and the upcoming release of the beta version of the game. And women were always flocking to him. He had model good looks, a muscular and fit body, with black hair and smoldering gray eyes. Because he rarely went out with a woman more than a couple of times, his affairs were few and far between. The playboy persona helped keep people from seeing more than he wanted them to see. Why would Delilah be immune?
But damn it, why Delilah? He’d been trying to figure out a way to get into her good graces. But that was before the attack. He hadn’t come up with a good idea then. And now it seemed impossible. He might not be disabled, but now that he suffered from headaches and was physically scarred, he couldn’t burden her with that. She had enough to deal with when it came to her mother and her mother’s illness; he’d be nothing but a burden to her. He was also a reminder of the attack she’d suffered. These days she barely looked at him. And it made seeing her, wanting her, that much more difficult for him.
He supposed it was inevitable she’d show up the next morning. Her hair was covered in an orange knit cap, and under her open purple coat was a pair of denim overalls he found sexy on her and a bright green and yellow striped flannel shirt. She had a new laptop in her arms. Groggy from another late night, he answered his door with a growl. “What are you doing here?”
Lilah held up the box. “Laptop. Nash sent me.”
Isaac stepped back so she could come in. His heart ached watching her, her violet eyes wide with surprise at his tone. “He said to have one delivered.”
Lilah stopped halfway on her way to the staircase. “And what do you call this? I’m delivering it.”
Isaac tried to grab it, but she turned and quickly climbed the stairs.
Lilah’s back was to him when he came into the office. There were days when he would swear her smell lingered in the air after she was gone. It made getting work done difficult.
Lilah grabbed a pair of scissors and cut the tape on the box. She started to unbox it when Isaac reached over and took the box from her. “Thank you for delivering it.”
Lilah’s brows knitted as he walked to the office door and gestured for her to go.
She crossed her arms over her chest, her red hair swirling around her shoulders as she shook her head at him. “Are you okay?”
Isaac felt his temper fray. “I’m not an invalid, Delilah. I don’t need your help.”
Lilah’s mouth opened; her lavender eyes narrowed. “Excuse me?”
Isaac, now angry as her beautiful face frowned at him, came and took her arm. “I can do this myself. I don’t need or want you here.”
Before she could protest, he led her down the stairs, pushed her outside, closed the door, and locked it behind him.
Lilah knocked a few times and called his name. But Isaac just leaned against the door, eyes closed. He didn’t relax until he heard her car pull out of his driveway. Cursing her and Nash, he took the laptop upstairs, where it took him the rest of the day to set it up. No doubt Delilah would have had it done in no time.
But after the way he behaved, he doubted she’d be back.
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