by Emma Louise
This morning was amazing. Let me know how today goes. I love you.
I have to refrain from hugging my phone to my chest and doing a happy dance like a lovesick teenager.
“Well, isn’t that quite a smile.” Tony says as he opens the door for me.
“Looks like someone is getting some,” Calvin adds, causing Tony and I to stare at each other with wide eyes.
“I know you’re sixteen now, boy, but we don’t speak to ladies like that. Not ever. You get me?” Tony says gently, but with enough gravity for Calvin to know how serious he is. His cheeks flush a deep shade of red as he looks down at the ground.
“Sorry, Ms. Brooke,” he mumbles as he stares intently at his feet.
“Apology accepted.” I try to keep my voice even, though a big part of me wants to laugh. Growing up with two younger brothers and a hoard of boy cousins, I’ve heard a lot worse in my time. But this is a lesson he needs to learn, so I don’t brush it under the carpet. “You can help me carry these into the back room.” I pass him the new paint and brush supplies I brought with me, watching as he sulks away with his head bowed and shoulders slumped in defeat.
“That boy.” Tony shakes his head, and I lose it. I have to cover my mouth as the laughter bubbles out, and it’s not long before Tony is doing the same. We finally get ourselves under control, just in time because the door swings open, and a very happy Jared comes running in. I feel my tense muscles relax as I see his smiling face.
“Ms. Brooke!” he shouts when he sees me. “Guess where I went today!” he calls out again, bouncing on his toes in front of me.
“I don’t know.” I pretend to think about it. “Did you go to school?”
“Nope!”
“Well, you’re looking pretty excited so it must be ... the dentist?”
“No!” He giggles, and the sound is like music to my ears. “I saw my mommy!”
“You did?” I look over his head to Awilda, the counselor that was with him during the visit. She gives me a warm smile and nods. It’s her way of telling me it went well. We’ll get a full rundown on how it went later, but for now, that’s all I need to know.
“I can’t wait to hear all about it. Come on, you can tell me everything while we do some painting. Sound good?” He takes off for the studio that’s set up in the back room, leaving me with a huge smile on my face and my chest feeling full of contentment.
My life is wildly different from how it was just a few short months ago, and there’s not a single part of it I would change.
CHAPTER TWENTY
BROOKE
The small bus is full of chattering kids, the noise level making it virtually impossible to hear what Awilda is saying from the seat beside me. To say the boys are a little over excited would be a gross understatement. They’re on a day trip to visit the Team Donavan training track and I, of course, couldn’t say no to tagging along when there’s a very real chance I’ll get to see Tucker there. It doesn’t matter that we woke up together a few hours ago; I’ll take any chance I can get to be near him.
“Okay, kids!” Tony shouts, clapping his hands together to get everyone's attention. “Remember the rules. One!” he calls out, holding up a finger to which there is a collective groan that reverberates around the bus. “You do not wander off on your own. We arrive as a group. We stay as a group. We leave as a group.” The boys all join in on that last part; obviously this isn’t the first time they’ve heard this.
“Two!” He continues. “We will be polite and courteous at all times. And last but not least, my favorite rule.” He draws in a deep breath before he holds up a third finger. Everyone joins in as he bellows out, “WE ALL HAVE FUN!”
I can’t help but look around, hoping to catch sight of Tucker as we pile off the bus, but the parking area is empty. The kids have all been here before, so I follow them as they filter through to the front doors and find the room where they can leave behind their coats and bags. I’m surprised at how comfortable they all are here, but I probably shouldn’t be.
The day passes quickly, the boys each getting a turn at riding around the track in some of the test cars. Tuck finally joined us, just before we came downstairs for some lunch. He greeted me with an entirely inappropriate kiss, garnering a round of ‘ewwws’ and ‘that’s gross’ and even a couple of cheers from the kids. Not even getting razzed by them could keep the huge smile from my face.
Now, the boys are finishing up the pizza that Colton brought down, and Tucker is under the hood of one of the cars showing Calvin and Jared something on the engine.
“Uh, excuse me, Tucker.” Zander appears at the side of the car, interrupting right as he is about to answer whatever question it is Calvin has just asked. The smile I’ve been wearing slips from my face at the panic I can hear lacing his tone. I get a look at his face, and the way he’s trying so hard to keep his expression blank has a chill racing down my spine. Tension radiates from every inch of his large frame. “Can you come up to the office real quick?” he asks, but I think all the adults realize he’s not leaving room for Tuck to say no. Both Tony and Awilda look at me, confusion etched into their features.
“What’s going on?”
There’s a commotion from outside the doors, and before anyone can do anything, a furious looking Colton Donavan comes storming in.
“Tony, get the kids back to the bus,” he all but growls as everyone stares at him in a stunned silence. “Now,” he adds when nobody moves right away.
“Tucker—” He stops speaking and draws in a long, deep breath. “Tuck, I need you to listen. Stay calm, and don’t say a word. We'll fix this, okay?” My eyes bounce between Colton and Zander who is now standing to the side with his hands on his head. He looks like he’s straining to hold himself back from losing his temper.
Tony and Awilda are ushering the last of the kids out the doors, but I can’t move; my feet are frozen in place. “Are you going to be okay?” Tony asks, but all I can do is nod in return. I have no idea what’s happening right now, but I have this feeling deep down in my bones that I’m going to be far from okay.
“The cops are here,” Colton announces as soon as the kids are gone. “They have a warrant to arrest you.”
“What?” Tucker’s face pulls into a mask of confusion. “What the hell for?” his voice raises into a shout.
“Fuck! Dad, this is bullshit, and you know it.” Zander’s voice booms out, startling me so much that I jump.
“Losing it isn’t going to help him. Let’s all just keep our heads a while, and we’ll get this fixed.” I watch Colton speak, but even I can tell he’s struggling to follow his own advice. The tension from all three of them bleeds into the air, suffocating me. “As soon as you can, you tell them you want a lawyer, and don’t say another word; you hear me?” He’s in Tucker’s face, hands on his shoulders as he tries to make sure Tucker really hears what’s being said.
The door slams open, and two men I’ve never seen before storm in, both wearing jeans and sports jackets. I can guess they’re detectives by the badges they have clipped to their belts. There’s a couple of uniformed cops behind them, both standing sentry at the door, hands hovering over their holstered guns.
“Give me a minute.” Colton’s face contorts into anger as he turns to stand in front of Tucker.
“You had your minute already, Donavan,” the bigger of the two detectives sneers. “Tucker Neal, I’m arresting you on suspicion of rape and assault.”
The room explodes in to a flurry of activity. Voices shout over each other. Tucker is grabbed and handcuffed. Colton has to hold Zander back as he tries to get past him to shout at the cops.
But all I see is Tucker. His beautiful, tortured face looks over at me, pain etched deep. His lips are moving, but I don’t hear a word over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
Rape. That vile word spins through my mind on repeat.
Scalding hot tears course down my cheeks as Tucker is pushed forward. He plants his feet, the stubborn fool not let
ting them take him away.
“Brooke, I’m sorry. It’s not true. I swear—” His words are cut off as he’s pushed forward and marched toward the door.
The sound of the door slamming jars me out of the trance I’m in. My feet become unglued, and I run after him. My head spins with dizziness as I struggle to catch a full breath. I need to see him. They can’t take him. They’ve made a mistake. This whole thing has to be some kind of sick joke.
I’m too late. He’s already in the back of the car, his head bowed, eyes trained down toward his lap.
The detective climbs into the driver’s seat, and they take off immediately.
Tucker doesn’t look up. Not once.
I feel warmth at my side as Zander wraps an arm around me.
“Breathe. You need to calm down, Brooke,” he says, and I realize I’m sobbing uncontrollably. That awful sound that’s been ringing in my ears has been my cries all along. My body heaves as it struggles to get enough air, and the weight on my chest is crushing me.
I’m picked up and carried upstairs into one of the conference rooms. Zander drops me into a chair and right away presses my head forward so it’s between my knees.
“Get her some water,” he barks to whoever just walked in. It takes long minutes, but I finally start to feel like I can breathe a little. My body aches from head to toe, and I feel like I've been hit by a bus.
“Brooke.” Zander crouches down in front of me. “I swear to you, we’ll fix this. We’ll get him home.” Anger fires his words. All I can do is nod jerkily.
I need to get it together. Tucker is going to need me to stay strong.
Whatever happens, I’m going to be by his side.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TUCKER
My fucking hands hurt.
Red welts itch from the cold metal digging into my flesh. The damn cuffs were so tight. Rubbing the sore skin, I try to ease some of the tension from how tightly I’ve clenched my fists all day.
The loud clunk of the metal door slamming shut vibrates through my shivering body. It’s so damn cold in this cell.
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I try my best to push away the cold fear that still lingers on my skin. It's just another nightmare. The same one that’s woken me up every day for the last week.
You’re home, Tuck.
You’re home, not in a cell.
Rolling to my side, I find what I already expected to find. A cold spot where Brooke should be sleeping. Looking at the clock I see it’s just past four-am. Kicking the sheets off my legs, I go straight to where I know she’ll be.
I don’t knock. Pushing the door to the guest room open, I lean on the frame so I can watch her for a while. Her hair is tied up in a crazy tangle at the top of her head. She’s lost in thought, staring at the canvas she’s standing in front of. The brush in her paint-stained hand hovers; she’s poised, ready to add a stroke at any moment.
After an administration error kept me locked up for five days, part of me expected her to run. Who would have blamed her? It's not every day your boyfriend gets arrested and charged with rape and battery.
Just thinking those words has my heart sinking.
Shame.
Embarrassment.
Anger.
Fear.
I’ve felt every single emotion this last seven days. It’s like being on the worst possible rollercoaster that I just can’t get off.
The only spark of hope? My Brooke. She was there, waiting to run into my arms as soon as those doors opened. It felt wrong, holding her when the filth of the days prior still clung to me. But those feelings didn’t stop me from accepting her affections. It was the one thing I craved more than anything while I was locked up.
“What do you think?” she asks softly, not turning to look at me. Moving closer, I get the first look at what she’s been working on for endless hours.
From this angle all I see is dark. Solid black bleeds into a deep blue, bleeds into gray.
It's so dark.
That thought alone is enough to have bile rising in my throat. Brooke isn’t dark.
She’s bright.
She’s shining stars in an inky dark night sky.
She’s hopeful sunshine after a rainstorm.
She’s not this mass of black and gray brush strokes.
“Do you see this?” She grabs my hand and pulls me closer, pointing to the center of the canvas. The closer I get, the more the picture begins to emerge. The dark slashes soften into misty swirls of blue. Getting my first glimpse of the full picture, I see the gray middle is softened into a pure white center.
“What is it?” My voice is grit. A rough croak that doesn’t hide how the last week has affected me.
“It’s us.” Her fingers squeeze around mine, and I cling to that feeling. She’s an anchor in the storm of my life right now.
“Us?”
She nods. Dropping the brush, she leans forwards and taps her fingers on the white center. “This. This is us.” It’s a whisper. “All of this”—she waves her hand around the darkness—“none of this other stuff touches us. Me and you. We're all that matters.”
It’s too much. It's all too much. The shit of the last few days. Having Brooke here holding me up despite it all is too much. I lose it for the first time, and tears fill my eyes.
I like to think I’m a strong man, but faced with the very real possibility that everything is going to be ripped away from me is suddenly too much. Wrapping her arms around me, I let myself have this moment. Burying my face in her hair, I let the fear win for just a few minutes.
***
“What time are the lawyers coming?”
We’re back in bed, my breakdown from earlier finally locked down, and Brooke is curled tightly to my side. Trying to sleep is pointless now, so we’ve been laying here, watching the sun start to peek over the horizon.
“Around lunchtime, I think.” I’m dreading today. I have a team of ridiculously overpaid defense lawyers chomping at the bit to get started on building their fight against Karlyn’s claims. There’s not a tiny part of me that was surprised it was her who’s trying to decimate my life.
She went to the cops and told them I forced myself on her the last night we were together. That what started as us fooling around ended in me not taking her ‘no’ for an answer. Somehow, she has pictures of herself with bruises. Well, that’s what the police have told me anyway. With there being months in between when she says I attacked her and her reporting it, there’s no physical evidence. It's pretty much her word against mine.
Except, the real kicker, she’s somehow found herself a witness that claims they saw us at the bar that night. They saw me not only being apparently rough with Karlyn, but Brooke too. That fucking night I thought she was on a date, and I lost my mind.
While it’s not proof that I did what she’s accusing me of, it’s proof enough that I’m an asshole who treats women like shit.
I’ve wracked my brain trying to remember every detail of that night. I know I didn’t do the despicable things she’s accusing me of. I know it with a bone-deep certainty.
She cooked me breakfast the next morning for fuck’s sake! And not to mention the endless phone calls and texts she sent me these last few months.
But even if I get lucky and they find me not guilty, my life is in the toilet. That bitch made sure the press got ahold of the story right after the police did. I’ll be lucky to ever get behind the wheel again. My sponsors dropped me in a heartbeat. I’m beyond lucky to have Colton and all of Team Donavan in my corner, but with a likely conviction and a jail sentence, I can kiss my life goodbye. Hell, even if I somehow get out of the charges, nobody will ever believe me. There's no smoke without fire. I can see the tabloid headlines already.
“I can hear you thinking.” Brooke’s voice cuts into my little pity party.
“Why are you here?” I feel her body stiffen at my question.
“Where else would I be?” she asks
carefully.
“Anywhere but here would be better right now.” Her tiny fist lands square against my chest, shocking the shit out of me. Before I can ask what the fuck she’s doing, she swings her leg over mine and straddles me.
“Enough.” Gripping my face, she forces me to look at her. “We’re not letting her win.”
“She’s already won—”
“The fuck she has!” It’s horribly inappropriate, but I have the insane urge to laugh at Brooke’s heated declaration. This sweet, tiny thing who looks like a precious doll cursing and looking ready to go to battle is almost impossible not to laugh at. That urge dies on my lips as she keeps speaking. “Do you want to know why I left you before?”
“What?” I wheeze out, confused at the turn the conversation has taken. We haven’t really discussed the past. It didn’t matter to me. All that mattered was having her back in my arms where she belongs.
“You think it was because I hated you racing. You think I gave up on us, the future we had planned, because I was angry at you that night.” She swallows deeply, gathering whatever strength she needs to keep on. “I was scared. In the beginning, I was so damn scared every time I had to watch you get in the car, but I trusted you. I knew you’d always be as safe as you possibly could. But while my head knew all of that, I started to get these panic attacks.” She shakes her head as if the mere memory of them is enough to bring her pain. “I could control it most of the time, but the more it happened, the more I knew that one day you’d see. You'd see me lose it, and I couldn’t let that happen, Tuck.”
“Why the hell not?” I demand, pissed that she was feeling all of that without telling me. I should have known. I should have been there for her when she was going through it. Lifting her off my lap, I stand and start to pace around the bedroom. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”
"I knew that if you had any idea how I was feeling, you’d quit. I couldn’t do that. I just couldn’t.” Her huge eyes stare up at me beseechingly. “I walked away so you could have your dreams,” she adds softly.
“You were my dream!” the words explode from me on an angry yell.