by J , Louise
All accept for the ones which focused on her getting injured. Even then, when I didn’t know she’d be mine, I didn’t want to see that girl in any kind of pain, physical or emotional.
“That makes me feel better,” Joe says, smiling. “Not so freakin’ weird.”
“I’ve checked out Callie’s blog myself, several times. She’s still a part of our group until she confirms otherwise. It’s more like a time out or something.”
“Right?” Joe says. “And that’s the other thing. I don’t feel like we’re totally done. Maybe I’m deluding myself, but I don’t. It can’t all have been for nothing. That’s why it was never gonna work with Emily. It wasn’t fair to stay with her knowing that.”
“You did the right thing trying, though, Jack deserved for you to at least give it a shot. I’m one hundred percent sure Callie will be back. There’s no way she doesn’t still love you, even if she is with another man right now. It all comes down to her being ready.”
“You meeting Brooklyn’s not for nothing, either. In fourteen years, and after fuck knows how many women, she’s the only one who’s come along and smashed the shit out of your defenses – and that’s without her even trying. No way is it for nothing; she’s yours for keeps, brother. Work through this stuff, her insecurities and your worries. Do what you have to do, and be together.”
****
In the drive, by the open garage door, I’m standing with Ray’s Roadmaster in front of me, upright and supported by the kickstand. It’s tan colored with two brown leather seats, the one at the rear fitted by his own hands, specially for me. Not a hint of wear and tear about this antique. You could easily believe it was only just built. Even in the current times, people are customizing and restoring these motorcycles, so they’re still around, but not many look like the one in front of me. I’ll make sure it stays this way.
“You did it,” Elizabeth says, coming to a stop beside me.
I gaze down at her. The smile on her face washes away the years. Whenever I look at Elizabeth I see someone who’s conquered all that life has thrown at her. I never see age, but right now she has a vibrancy about her that I haven’t seen since … I guess the first time she saw Nathaniel, minutes after he was born.
The amazing woman standing beside me is the greatest example of pure, unconditional love. I don’t even like to imagine what mine and Saffron’s lives might’ve been like if she and Ray hadn’t stepped in after we lost our parents. They really were the next best thing.
If I’d known fixing the bike would’ve put a smile like that on Elizabeth’s face, I’d have done it a long time ago. It never occurred to me that she might want it fixed; she’s never given me that impression. So selfless, and I wish I had been more selfless.
“I’m sorry it’s taken me so long.”
“I’m happy you finally allowed yourself to do it. I always knew you would when the time was right. How have the past couple of days been?”
“Busy with work.”
Beth doesn’t say anything. That isn’t what she was asking.
“I’m dealing with it. Will you ride with me?”
“I would love to.” She slips her arm through mine, and I lead her into the garage, to the closet at the rear.
Five minutes later, Elizabeth’s all kitted out in the stuff she used to wear when she rode with her husband. With that helmet, those goggles, the gloves, and the scarf around her neck, she looks like something that’s just stepped out of a 1970s movie. Beautiful.
Forty Six: Brooklyn
In my hotel room, I’m tucked up in bed, but too restless to sleep. It’s just after eleven, and Leona’s fast asleep. Dane and I have spoken a few times today, so I’m not going to bother him. It’s Tuesday, our second night apart.
Picking up my Mp3 player, from the top of the bedside table, I scroll through my playlists and select my mix of favorite tracks. I out the side light and close my eyes.
Forty minutes later, I’m still awake. My mobile flashes brightly in the dark room. I pull my ear buds out, grab the phone and race into the bathroom, answering the call the second the door closes. “Hello?”
“Hey, you,” the loveliest, sexiest, smoothest voice in the world says. If sex had a voice, it would sound like Dane.
“Hey yourself, you okay?” I sit up on the counter and lean back against the wall, crossing my legs.
“Yeah, I’m good. I didn’t wake you, did I?”
“No, I was unsuccessfully trying to sleep. Have been for the past hour.”
“Why didn’t you call me to keep you company?” I wanted to.
“I didn’t want to bug you.”
“I want you to bug me.”
“Be very careful what you say,” I warn teasingly, but I’m mostly serious, because I would bug him until I drive him crazy. The only time I don’t miss and crave Dane is when I’m performing. Every single moment that exists outside of my performances belong to him.
“So what are you up to? It’s after midnight, you not tired?” I ask.
“A little, but I wanted to bug you.” I guffaw and quickly cover my mouth with my hand. “What’s up with the echo, are you in the bathroom?”
“I am. Leona’s sleeping. I didn’t want to wake her.”
“Shit, I didn’t even think of that.”
“It’s okay, my phone was on silent. How did you know I’d be awake?” I ask, mildly curious.
“I didn’t think you would be, I was gonna leave you a message. How was your show tonight?” I’m so glad I couldn’t sleep.
“Brilliant, loved it. It feels so good to be doing it again – I sort of wish we were here longer than a week, but at least we have New York to look forward to. What did you get up to after work? More smoking weed with Joe?”
“Nah, I went to Elizabeth’s.”
“Did you? How is she?”
“She’s good. I fixed Ray’s bike and took her for a ride. She looked like she was in her thirties again with her scarf blowing in the wind. She brought vintage chic to my riding experience. It was awesome.” I can hear him smiling and I have no idea whose smile right now is the biggest, but mine is huge. I feel so proud of him.
“Wow, that’s so great.”
“I figured it was time. I shouldn’t have left it so long in the first place. You know what this means, right?”
“I do. I’m shitting myself at the thought, but I’m up for it.”
“I’ll keep you safe, baby.”
“I know you will.”
“So why can’t you sleep?” His tone is more serious, but not over-intrusive.
“I just can’t, not sure why. I’ll get there eventually. I wish I could listen to music with you and dance with you.” I’m shattered, so maybe not the dancing part. I am actually sleepy, but I can’t seem to sleep.
“No reason why we can’t. Make yourself comfortable.”
Sitting on this counter is surprisingly quite comfy. For a short time we say nothing, but I can hear movement down the line. He’s fiddling with the stereo.
“Close your eyes, sweetheart,” Dane says with his voice softer, slower. Sensually hypnotic. “Stand close to me like you always do. Press your cheek to my chest.”
I do as requested, and slide my arms around his midsection. Suddenly I can feel Dane’s arms tight around me, holding me close, his chin resting on the top of my head. He’s shirtless, in only his jeans. I have only my bra and jeans on, so I can feel him flesh-to-flesh. His body is strong, solid and warm. His skin is the softest skin I’ve ever had the pleasure of feeling. With a deep inhale, I take in his scent, his comfort. The safety he offers.
The sound of the needle making contact with vinyl comes through the phone, followed by the rasp as the record rotates. A saxophone starts to play. I hold my breath. The smooth sound causes a shimmer to glide across my skin, goose bumps rise to the surface. Slowly, I start to breathe.
More than aware of how we’d move, keeping my eyes closed and connecting with what I’m hearing, that’s what I do. Our
bodies flow with the rhythm. The sax quiets. Moments like this are when I can hear and feel Dane’s heartbeat. That’s why I press my cheek to his chest. He starts to stroke my back with one hand. The fingers of his other hand lace through my hair and gently close into a fist.
As the sound of the sax picks up again, a lady starts to sing. So tender, yet poignant. A voice filled with passion, I can feel it to my core. A voice that sings with the sax, entwines with it. They become one.
Words about expressing love through ways other than saying it; simple caring touches, the warmth of an embrace, the emotions present within easy words, eye contact that says … “I Love You”, and, of course, music.
A song between a man and a woman who were so obviously deeply in love with each other.
Nathaniel and Martha Sinclair.
My closed eyes sting with tears. My throat tightens. Dane doesn’t need to speak to show that he’s still with me, I know he’s here. We continue our slow dance.
The singing stops. The sax continues alone. And starts to quiet.
“Can we do that again?” I whisper before it ends completely.
Forty Seven: Dane
Coming here like this isn’t totally rational, but right now I don’t care much about being rational. The elevator doors start to open. I go to walk out of the cab, conflicted, feeling like a weak-ass fool for being here while also feeling justified in the choice I’ve made.
The sound of something pounding and heavy, panicked breathing has me pausing and dragging my gaze up, just in time to see Brooklyn charging past. I’m out of the elevator almost quicker than I can register and collide with something – someone. I grab hold of Leona before she hits the floor. A door slams shut. I look down the hall and Brooklyn’s nowhere in sight. “What’s going on?” I ask Leona, as I start walking in that direction.
“Stephan was just playing and it went too far,” she rushes out.
I stop, unable to move with the sudden feeling of fury pulsing through me. “What the fuck did he do to her?”
Leona grasps my shirt at the chest, through my open jacket, her eyes going wide. “No, no, no, it wasn’t like that. He didn’t realize, he didn’t mean it.”
“Mean what–”
“Leona?” I hear, in a voice I know belongs to Kayla.
Fuck this shit. I turn away and keep moving. I stop outside room 201, which I know to be Brooklyn and Leona’s, who’s now right beside me. “Do you have a key card?” I ask with more aggression than intended.
After a hesitation, Leona looks at Kayla. “Babe, I put it in your bag.”
Kayla looks up at me, clutching the strap of her purse tighter. “You can’t go in there like that, you’ll freak her out. You need to calm down first.”
I hold my hand out to her, palm up. “I’ll calm down when I know why she’s such a mess.”
“You can’t go in there angry.”
“Here’s the deal. You can give me that card, or I can kick this door the fuck down. Either way, I’m getting in there.”
Leona lightly taps her elbow against Kayla’s arm. “You can give it to him, it’ll be fine.”
When I look at Leona, her lips form a small, concerned smile. Kayla glances at her friend and then passes me the key card. They link arms, turn and head back to wherever they came from. It’s obvious which one of those two trusts me enough with Brooklyn. If I gave a shit I’d try to reassure Kayla, but that’s not my priority right now.
I unlock and slowly open the door. The room is dark, but I enter and close the door behind me.
The sound of Brooklyn crying paralyzes me.
I’ve heard Saffron cry so many times I’ve lost count, mostly through grief and after all those nightmares she had. It tore me apart every single time. When Elizabeth was mourning Ray, she used to cry in what she thought was secret, unaware that I knew, and that killed me. It’s felt pretty bad when close female friends have cried in my presence.
When someone you love hurts, I swear to God it hurts you more than any of your own personal pain does.
Keeping my voice low, so I don’t startle her, I speak. “Baby?”
The crying stops. I think she whispered my name. Silence now and nothing more, I don’t even think she’s breathing.
“I’m gonna turn on the light, if that’s okay.”
My eyes have adjusted to the dark, so I can see enough to know where the switch is. I reach out, press and illuminate the room.
When I look to my left, Brooklyn is in the corner, sitting on the floor with her knees hugged tightly to her chest and her forehead pressed down between her knees. Her hair, caught up in a bun, is soaked and the tank top and skinny jeans she’s wearing also look wet, as well as her arms and feet.
Slowly, I approach and kneel down in front of her. I murmur her name, though all I want to do is take her in my arms and hold her so tight it’d probably hurt. I want to protect her from even a second of pain, emotional or physical. I want to undo whatever it was that led to this. “Tell me what happened, sweetheart.”
She starts sobbing again, and without even contemplating it, I’m sitting back on my heels with Brooklyn on my lap and in my arms. Her hands grasping my shirt, she turns her face to me, breathing deeply. The wetness from her clothes seeps through mine, to my skin, and the change from warm to cool with her breaths glides across my chest.
“You’re safe, baby. You’re safe,” I whisper.
I let her cry, and try to soothe with gentle words.
“Are you ready to tell me what happened?” I ask when she goes silent and still.
Her head moves from side-to-side. I want to know, I want to know more than anything, but fuck me if ever there was a time I need patience it’s now. The only thing helping that, beyond the fact that I can’t leave her like this to go find out, is that she doesn’t appear to be harmed physically. It’s only a marginal help, but it’s enough to stop me hunting down Stephan to find out what the fuck he did.
“Can we get you out of these wet clothes, at least? You’re getting cold.”
“Okay,” I only just hear her say as she speaks into my shirt.
Cradling her in my arms, I rise up from the floor and head for the bathroom.
For the first time, since I got here, I catch a glimpse of Brooklyn’s face when she turns to see where we’re going. Clinging to me desperately, she turns into me again. “Not in there, please, not in there.”
I stop, my heart starting to sprint from her sudden panic. “Brooklyn, tell me what’s wrong? What did Stephan do to you? If you can’t tell me, I’ll go ask him.”
“No, don’t do that. It wasn’t his fault, he was just playing.”
I clamp down on my mounting frustration, because I am so fucking close to pissed again; not at Brooklyn, it’s the lack of understanding how things ended up here. Sighing, I let my head fall back and I take a moment.
Keeping my voice low and as calm as I can make it, I say my next words. “I need you to give me something.” I carry her over to one of the double beds, I guess it to be hers from the pink sweater on it, and lay down with her, us both on our sides. Brooklyn presses her face to my chest. I know she’s hiding from me. I’ve come to find it cute when she does this, but not on this occasion.
“Are you going to answer me,” I ask, directly into her ear, keeping my voice super low.
Her damp clothes are cold, so I pull the right side of the comforter over us and tighten my hold.
She sniffs and clears her throat. “A group of us went into Stephan and Andrew’s room after eating. We were just supposed to have a couple of drinks and call it a night, but Liz, Stephan and Andrew got in the Jacuzzi together. I sat on the toilet. Then Leona went with Kayla to her room for her camera, and Stephan tried to persuade me to get in. I’d already said no, but he obviously didn’t take me seriously. I said no again and before I realized what he was doing, he was out of the tub, picking me up and … then he …” She starts sobbing again, and I’m even more confused and a hell of a lot more conce
rned.
“So I know why you’re wet, but why has it distressed you like this?”
“It’s my stupid fault. I panicked. They probably all think I’m an idiot now.”
“Fuck what they think. Stephan shouldn’t have put you in the Jacuzzi if you already said no. Why did you freak out?”
“I can’t do this Dane. I’m sorry, I just can’t. It’s bad enough that you’ve seen me cry.”
Keeping her in my hold, I shift my upper body back enough so that she can’t hide from me. I’m surprised when Brooklyn tilts her head up to meet my gaze, but it kills me that there are tears pooling in her eyes, which are already red and puffy and way too troubled. She seems determined not to let her tears escape.
“There’s nothing wrong with crying, baby. You’ve done a lot of stuff with me and in front of me that takes more guts than crying does.”
She shakes her head. “It’s not the same. We were equal then, and those were all good things. Great things.”
“We’re not only supposed to do great things together. Sometimes shit happens and we deal with that together, too. You shouldn’t try to hide your emotions from me, Brooklyn. We’re never anything but equal, no matter what.”
Her brows slowly draw together, her gaze lowering to my chin. “I feel like I’m failing myself if I give in. I already have tonight. I feel … like I’m being weak. I feel too vulnerable, especially in front of …”
With my forefinger, I raise her chin until she looks at me properly, so she’ll know I mean what I’m about to say. “Crying in front of someone who loves you doesn’t make you vulnerable.”
Her eyelids lower, closing, with a tear escaping and rolling across the bridge of her nose. I catch it with the tip of my finger. “I’ve wanted to say that to you so many times,” she says.
“I’ve said it to you so many times. You just didn’t know it.”
Though her eyes stay closed, her lips slowly curve. Shifting in close to me, Brooklyn buries her face against my chest again.
“Are you hiding from me?” I ask, lightly, hoping she isn’t – not if it’s a reaction to her need to feel less vulnerable, more equal.