The Elements Series Complete Box Set

by Brittainy Cherry

  I arched an eyebrow.

  “I called Brooks, and he sounded pretty wasted when he answered. He wouldn’t talk to me for long, but I think he’s in bad shape. I know he told you he needed space, and I know you were only giving it to him because he gave you your space in the past, but this is different. I get him needing time to collect his thoughts, but I don’t think that’s what he’s doing. I think he’s doing the complete opposite, and I was hoping you could go check on him.”

  The answer was yes. If Brooks was lost, I’d be there for him. In a heartbeat. Sometimes, when people thought they needed space, they really needed anything but.

  Drive me up there? I asked my sister.

  She nodded. “Of course.” She rubbed her stomach. “Can we stop for tacos, first? Because—tacos.”

  Raindrops fell over the small town of Messa as Cheryl and I pulled up to the cabin. We unloaded my suitcases and went to the front porch. I’d knocked on the door a few times, receiving no reply from Brooks. My stomach was in knots, thinking the worst thoughts possible. I was thankful that Mrs. Boone gave me a spare key when she heard I was coming up to stay with Brooks for a while.

  Turning the knob, the front door opened, and Brooks was nowhere to be found, which was odd, because his car was sitting parked out front.

  Maybe he walked into town.

  I took out my board. You can go, Cheryl.

  She raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure? I don’t want you here if he’s nowhere to be found…”

  I’ll be fine. I promise. I’ll call you if I need anything.

  She was hesitating to go, but after some convincing, she drove off. I waited in the living room, sitting on the couch for Brooks to return, but he didn’t. After some time, I grabbed an umbrella and headed outside to walk into town as the raindrops kept falling. When I reached the local library, I hurried inside, taking my writing board with me.

  The library was huge for such a small town, and made me feel as if I were back in my bedroom, surrounded by my favorite stories. As I walked in, a woman sitting at the front desk smiled my way. She had a sweetness to her, with her chocolate eyes and short gray hair. Her nametag read Mrs. Henderson. “Hi, can I help you somehow?”

  I began writing. I’m looking for someone, and not sure if he’s been seen lately.

  She snickered. “Honey, I know it’s a library, but you don’t have to be that quiet.”

  I grimaced, and tapped my throat, and shook my head back and forth.

  She frowned. “Oh my, you can’t speak? I’m so sorry. Okay, well, who are you looking for?”

  Brooks Griffin.

  She narrowed her eyes. “Now don’t come up into this town playing the sweet card, and then turn out to be a stalker of that poor boy. He’s been through enough already. The last thing he needs is someone coming up to bother him for an autograph or something.”

  I’m a friend.

  “Prove it.”

  Reaching into my pocket, I pulled out my cell phone, and showed her pictures of Brooks and me cuddling together.

  She smiled. “Seems like you both are close friends. Okay, well, it’s raining so he can only be in one place. Come on, follow me. I’ll show you. But if it turns out that those pictures are Photoshopped, so help me I’ll call Lucas. He’s not only the town cop, but he’s my husband, too.”

  She grabbed her umbrella, then walked me out of the library and across the road to the coast of Lake Messa.

  “You see him?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “There.” She pointed out to the water. “That tiny speck is him. Him and his tiny canoe,” Mrs. Henderson said, staring in the same exact direction in which I stared. Brooks was seated in the middle of the lake in his solo canoe. The rain was hammering against him, but he seemed unfazed by it all. “He only goes out there when it rains, never on the sunny days.”

  I cocked my head to Mrs. Henderson, filled with wonderment, and she shrugged before speaking again. “A lot of the townsfolk think he goes out there during the storms trying to drown.”

  I knew better, though. I knew the best place in the world to try to breathe was beneath the water.

  35

  Brooks

  As the rain let up I started paddling back toward the cabin. It was late, around eleven at night when the rainclouds decided to move on to their next town. I tied the canoe up to the dock and ran my hands through my soaked hair, shaking off some of the excess water.

  “Shit,” I mumbled to myself, freezing my ass off. I wanted nothing more than to walk into the cabin, change my clothes, and crawl into bed. Yet as I dragged myself closer to the cabin, my chest tightened, seeing someone lying on the porch swing, sleeping. Damn paparazzi. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d tried to camp out at the cabin to get information from me, but normally the town sheriff, Lucas, was good at getting them to stay away.

  After hours and hours of solitude in the water, I couldn’t handle some creep sitting outside the cabin, taking photos of me.

  I marched over to the porch and huffed. “Listen, you asshole. Don’t you have something better to do than take fucking pictures of—” My voice faltered off as a sleepy Maggie started to wake, alert and alarmed. She jumped in her seat a bit, startled, reaching for her neck. When her eyes locked with mine, her hands eased back.

  “Maggie?” I choked out, almost doubting my words. My chest tightened more. “What the hell are you doing here?” I barked, a little confused, a little mad, but happy. Mostly happy.

  So damn happy to see her.

  She scrambled around her back, searching for something. When she came back up, she held a board in the air, and I began reading my own hand writing.

  Someday you’re going to wake up and leave your house, Magnet, and you’re going to discover the world. Someday you’re going to see the whole wide world, Maggie May, and on that day, when you step outside and breathe in your first breath, I want you to find me. No matter what, find me, because I’m going to be the one to show it to you. I’m going to help you cross off your to-do list. I’m gonna show you the whole wide world.

  She stood up and her clothes were soaking wet as if she too had stood in the rain all night long. She sneezed and started shaking from the cold.

  Maggie stood there staring at me, waiting for me to say something more, anything. So many thoughts passed through me as our eyes locked, but they weren’t thoughts I deserved to think. I didn’t think I deserved to miss her. I didn’t think I deserved to hold her. I didn’t think I deserved to love her.

  All I did was drink and sleep in my self-pity.

  She deserved more than my sadness. How could I show her the world while I was doing my best to avoid it?

  “Come inside to dry up,” I said. I saw the small tinge of sadness wash over her as she nodded. It was almost as if she hoped I’d pack up my bag and join her on the journey to complete her to-do list.

  It was the first time I felt as if I truly let her down.

  We walked into the cabin, and I noticed suitcases in the living room. “Yours?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll be right back.” I walked into my bedroom and darted directly toward the bathroom, where I splashed my face with water. “Jesus, Brooks. Pull yourself together.”

  Seeing Maggie shook me. Being reminded of something so beautiful when all I felt lately were ugly moments was a hard transition for me. Seeing her made me want to breathe, when for the past few weeks all I’d been able to do was hold my breath.

  “How did you get here?” I asked, coming back out to find her drying her hair with a towel and sorting through her suitcase for pajamas.

  She scribbled. Cheryl.

  I sighed. “It’s late, and I’m a bit drunk, so I can’t drive you back home until tomorrow. You can stay one night, but then you have to go. I’ll show you a room.”

  She did as I said, and I took her to the European bedroom.

  “You can stay here until the morning, then I’ll take you home. First thing in
the morning, Maggie. There’s day-old pizza in the fridge if you want it and some sodas. Night.”

  I kept things short. I didn’t want to dive into any kind of conversation with Maggie that night, because she had a way of making things better. I didn’t want to feel better.

  I didn’t want to feel at all.

  Turning to leave, I shut my eyes as I felt her fingers fall against my forearm. “Maggie,” I whispered then hesitated, but she pulled me back toward her. I met her blue eyes, and she gave me her perfect smile. “I can’t do this right now,” I told her, but she didn’t let me go. I broke my hold from Maggie, turning away. “I can’t. I’m sorry, I can’t do this.”

  I left her room before turning back to see her reaction. Slamming my bedroom door as I entered the room, I grabbed my bottle of Jack Daniel’s, and tried to forget what it felt like to feel again.

  “Why are you cooking? We have to go,” I barked at Maggie the next morning as she stood in the kitchen cooking pancakes. I didn’t understand it. I was short with her the night before. I made it clear that we were leaving first thing in the morning.

  She didn’t turn to acknowledge me. She kept cooking.

  “Maggie!” I shouted, and still, no response.

  I rolled my eyes, went to the fridge, and opened it for a beer. But, there was no beer to be found. “What the…” Fine. I moved over to the liquor cabinet and opened it wide, to find nothing. “Are you shitting me?” I grunted. “Maggie, where’s my alcohol?”

  No reply. “Jesus, Maggie. You’re mute not deaf!”

  She turned to me, narrowed her eyes, and gave me a look of death, which somehow forced me to apologize. “Seriously, though. Where’s my stuff?”

  She pointed over to the emptied bottles in the sink. My gut tightened, and I drew in a sharp breath. “You need to go home, Maggie. You need to go get your suitcases so I can take you home right now.”

  She walked over to me and placed a comforting hand on my cheek. Then her fingers lightly grazed over the scar across my neck. I closed my eyes. Too much. Her touch gave me too much comfort.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” I said, my hand falling on top of hers. I cleared my throat. “I asked you for space…” I swallowed hard.

  She slid her lips against mine and held up her right hand. Five minutes.

  I shut my eyes. “I can’t…”

  She pulled me closer to her, resting her hands against my chest. When I opened my eyes, she was staring up at me with so much hope.

  “Okay.” I shifted my feet and took her hands into mine. “Five minutes.”

  The first minute, I had the hardest time staring her way. She reminded me of everything I always wanted and everything I’d already lost. The second minute, she reminded me of the best days of my life. The third minute, I thought of music. Maggie always reminded me of music. She was my music.

  She moved in closer, and I stepped back, dropping our hold from one another.

  I shook my head. “No. You can’t comfort me. I’m sorry. I can’t be near you. I’m sorry, Maggie. I’m going to go into town for the day, and when I get back, please be ready to leave.” I turned to walk away, embarrassed by my rawness, and as my foot hit the doorway, I spoke my truth. “You can’t fix me, Maggie. You gotta let me drown.”

  36

  Maggie

  I wouldn’t leave, and that pissed him off.

  Each day that passed I received two different versions of Brooks Tyler Griffin. The first was the silent one, who’d walk past me without saying a word. In all my time of knowing him, he’d never once made me feel invisible until I came to that cabin.

  The second version of Brooks was the drunken, rude, asshole version. It was a side of him I didn’t know existed. He’d stumble home sloppy drunk so many times, and come my way, telling me how pathetic I was, and how I should’ve moved on with my life, because we’d never be together. We’d never have a future.

  “I mean, look at you. You’re sitting here, waiting for me. What’s the matter with you?” he slurred, stumbling side to side in my doorway at three in the morning one night. “Stop embarrassing yourself, Magnet. This isn’t going to happen. Don’t you have some kind of list to get to?” He snickered and fell backward against the wall. “Or are you too afraid to do anything on your own?”

  It was those nights when I wanted to leave the most. It was those nights when I wanted to throw in the towel and leave Brooks in his own misery.

  But then I’d hold onto my anchor necklace and remind myself of how many times he stood by my side.

  At night, I’d take baths, sink under the water, and remind myself. That’s not him. That’s not him. That’s not my love…

  If I walked away from him when things became hard, what would that say about me? How would I ever forgive myself if his mind went so dark and he slipped away? On the days I needed him most, he always stood by me, and I owed it to him to do the same.

  Being in love with someone didn’t mean you only loved them during the sunbeams. It meant you stood by their side during the cloudy nights, too.

  He didn’t love the person staring back at him in the mirror anymore. He didn’t see the fun, charming, goofy person he used to be. He didn’t laugh anymore, and I struggled to remember the last time he smiled.

  It was my job to remind him.

  It was my job to be his anchor.

  It was my job to stay and love him through it all.

  On the days Brooks was at his worst, I had to walk away. I’d go into town and explore the small shops, yet I hadn’t known how hard it would be on my mind. I noticed everything—every smell, every noise, every person. My mind was on constant alert, warning me of the dangers of the world. The idea of not knowing what was coming from around the corner horrified me.

  When a man accidentally bumped into me, I tripped over my feet and fell to the ground, cowering with fear. He apologized over and over again and tried to help me up, but I was too embarrassed to accept his help.

  Since I couldn’t go back to the cabin, I’d gone to the place that most reminded me of home—the library. Each day I’d visit the Messa Library and sit in a back corner reading to take my mind off of the world. Mrs. Henderson always came by to visit me and slid me a piece of chocolate, winking my way. “No food or drink allowed in the library, but since you’re so good at almost blending in with the walls, I think we can let this slide.”

  Thank you, I wrote.

  “You’re more than welcome.” She pulled out the other chair at the table and paused. “You mind a little company today?”

  I gestured for her to sit. Anyone who brought me chocolate each day was allowed to sit with me.

  “What are you reading?” she asked.

  I showed her the cover.

  “Ah, Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s one of my favorite pieces of her work. Second to only to Northanger Abbey.”

  I nodded in agreement, appreciating Mrs. Henderson’s wise opinion of Austen’s work.

  She went into her pocket, pulled out a piece of chocolate, and then popped it into her mouth. “I like to think that Persuasion is a perfect mix of profound moments stirred with wonderful entertainment.”

  This woman understood what made for a wonderful story.

  “So, I told you my husband was the sheriff here, yeah?”

  Yes.

  She smiled. “If you met Lucas, you’d think he was born from the sweetest piece of chocolate. His voice is so soothing and he has this rich personality that everyone instantly loves. He has a spark about him; when he walks into a room the energy shifts to a brighter place. He’s the love of my life, and I can tell that this Brooks is the love of yours, right?”

  He is.

  She popped another piece of chocolate into her mouth. “Ninety-five percent of my marriage has always been filled with happiness. Being married to Lucas was the best choice of my life, but there was a point in our story where that five percent showed up. We lived in an inner city, and Lucas was working nightshifts as a p
olice officer. He hardly talked about the kinds of things he saw out there, but I knew they affected him. He started smiling less, he hardly laughed, and everything I did was somehow wrong to him. He shouted at me and yelled about ridiculous things. The dishwasher leaking water; the delivery boy tossing the newspaper into the bushes by mistake. Those sorts of things drove him crazy, and he hollered at me about it. I placed his anger on my shoulders, though, telling myself he’d had a tough day. My sweet Lucas had a tough work life. He worked a job where death was more common than life. He walked into houses sometimes where he’d come across children who lost their lives due to getting in the crossfire of their parents arguing. He was tired, so I took on his exhaustion. I told myself I was his rock, therefore I had to hold down the fort for both of us.”

  I listened to her words, hardly blinking once.

  “But the thing about rocks is even though they are strong, they aren’t invincible. You can’t allow someone to take a sledgehammer to a stone, without expecting it to begin to crack. It took a lot of work, but we came through it after I stood up for myself, reminding Lucas that I was his partner, not his punching bag.” Mrs. Henderson leaned in closer to me and placed a piece of chocolate into my hand. “I see it in your eyes, sweet girl. The way you’re holding his pain in your chest. The way you’re breaking while trying to appear strong. I’ve read some of the articles about Brooks and they are beyond harsh. Brooks is a gentle soul. That’s probably why all of this media attention is so hard on him. Gentle souls hurt the most when the world turn its back on them. That’s why your role to him is so important. You’re his truth. So, help him, but stand your ground. Don’t be his punching bag, Maggie. Love him, but love yourself, too. Just because he’s hurting doesn’t mean he gets to hurt you,” Mrs. Henderson said. “Promise me you’ll take care of yourself?”