“She doesn’t talk about them a lot.”
Howard chuckled softly. “That doesn’t surprise me. Her coming to stay with me was sort of an escape. After Neal died, her parents became overprotective of her. Which is natural. But the poor girl couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without them hovering. It wasn’t healthy for any of them.”
“That’s why you didn’t want her going to the desert alone to paint,” Owen commented.
“No. That just wasn’t safe no matter what. But I want her to paint—or be out in the world doing what she loves! She’s young and talented, and even if she doesn’t figure out what she wants as a career until she’s forty, it’s still okay!”
“But—”
“Brooke needed this time to gain some confidence and try to find herself. She was never allowed to choose. I know she has a lot of regrets about her relationship with her brother.”
“Why?”
“They were so opposite. But I think it would have still been the case without their parent’s interference.”
“Siblings do tend to be different and have their differences,” Owen observed.
“Not like this,” Howard said, his tone going serious. “Brooke was…well…she was a brat. There’s no other way to put it. She was a bit of a spoiled brat who took great pleasure in teasing her brother. Normally it’s the older sibling teasing the younger one, but that was just one of the ways the two of them were so different.” He shifted in his bed to get more comfortable. “I think once she went away to college, she grew up a lot and realized she had been a bit hard on Neal. I’d like to think that had he lived, they’d have learned to like each other and maybe even become friends.”
Owen couldn’t imagine what it would be like to not get along with his siblings. As it was, he was completely at his wit’s end over his argument with Riley. He’d never not talked to one of his brothers. Or Darcy. And even though they weren’t all always in constant contact, there was never such animosity that would make them enemies.
“After…well…after,” Howard said solemnly, “Brooke spent a lot of time volunteering at different schools and reached out, through her art, to a lot of the kids who were like Neal. Quiet. Shy. She wanted to do her part to show these kids that it was okay to be different and to show the ones who were being mean, the bullies, that they were wrong. It was a project she felt very strongly about. I think she’ll always take the side of the underdog because she’s witnessed firsthand the effects of what can happen.”
And then something hit him—was that what she was doing? Was he… Did she view him as the underdog? Was he a project for her? A way of assuaging her guilt over her brother? The thought had him feeling sick to his stomach, and then Riley’s words came back almost to taunt him.
Brooke is way out of your league.
She’s just going to mess with you and break your heart.
“Do you think she can make it as an artist?” Howard asked, snapping Owen out of his thoughts.
“Yes,” he replied, his voice confident and firm.
His answer seemed to please Howard. “I do too.” Reaching out, Howard patted Owen’s hand. “That’s why I knew the two of you would work well together.”
Guilt settled over him. Owen was many things, but he wasn’t a liar, and there was no way he could sit here and lie to his good friend now. “I care about Brooke a great deal, Howard,” he said softly.
“I know.”
Owen looked up at him and saw a serene smile back on his friend’s face. “It’s more than that. I…I’m in love with her.”
Howard arched a brow at him. “Is that so?”
Owen nodded. “I have to admit, this is all completely new to me. I’ve never… I mean… I know this is fast. We just met.”
“I’ve told you my story probably a dozen times before, Owen,” Howard said. His eyes were starting to droop, and he yawned. “I’m the last person you need to explain yourself to.”
With a shrug, Owen said, “Maybe. Or maybe I need to talk it out because this is completely new to me. Things like this don’t happen to me. And…” He stopped. As much as he wanted to share the revelation he was just agonizing about, this was still Brooke’s uncle and therefore not the most objective person he could talk to.
“I can see the wheels in your head spinning, Owen. We’ve known each other long enough, and we’re more than just colleagues. I consider you a true friend. What’s troubling you about this?”
And then as if his mouth suddenly had a mind of his own, Owen spilled the whole story about how his family had reacted to meeting Brooke and his subsequent argument with Riley.
“You don’t argue with your brother,” Howard said simply.
All Owen could do was nod.
“I think perhaps you’re looking at this the wrong way.”
“How is that possible? Riley told me exactly what his issue was with Brooke, and it was insulting.”
Rolling onto his side to face Owen better, Howard spoke, his voice stronger than it had been a moment ago. “Your brother may write songs for a living, but that doesn’t mean he’s good with words.”
Frowning, Owen replied, “I’m not following you.”
“Do you think it’s possible that Riley was more upset about you not coming to him first and not telling him about all of the things you were doing than about Brooke herself?”
“I…I don’t know.”
“Seems to me that you and Riley always talk about everything and he’s always been the one out living life and experiencing things. Your roles have reversed a little. Maybe he’s not comfortable with the switch.”
It made sense, Owen thought, but still…
“But that’s not the only thing bothering you,” Howard said as if reading Owen’s mind.
It was possible that, other than confronting Brooke herself on the subject, Howard was his best bet.
“The story you just told me—about Brooke and her project after her brother died?” he began. “What if…” Owen paused and took a steadying breath. “What if I’m a project? What if I’m here believing that we’re building a relationship, and she’s looking at me as some shy and awkward guy she’s trying to save?”
Howard studied him for a long moment—long enough that Owen started to feel uncomfortable. He was just about to speak again when Brooke came back into the room with the doctor.
Owen could tell immediately that she was stressed. She had a smile on her face, but it was forced. She was worried for her uncle, and he could sympathize with her. On the other hand, he wished she had been out of the room for another five minutes. Maybe Howard would have set him straight.
Or confirmed what was fast becoming his worst fear.
“Well, Mr. Shields, it looks like you’ll be staying with us for a few days,” his doctor began.
Owen stood, and Brooke immediately came to his side and clasped his hand in hers, and they both listened to the doctor describe what the coming weeks were going to be like for Howard.
* * *
“Do you want to stay here or go back to your hotel?” Brooke asked as they finished dinner back at Howard’s home.
“I need to go over and get some things. Like you, I’m out of clean clothes.”
She gave him a small smile. “Mind if I tag along?”
“Not at all.”
It was silly that she was relieved that he wanted her to. Ever since they had left the hospital, she had been getting a weird vibe from him, and for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out why. It could be that he—like she—was worried about her uncle. Either way, she certainly didn’t want to be alone here in the house, and as crazy as it sounded, the thought of sleeping alone was completely unappealing.
Wow. Funny how fast she got used to that.
She rose from the table, cleared away their dinner dishes, and loaded them in the dishwasher. T
he silence seemed to drag, but she wasn’t sure what to say to break it without having it sound forced or awkward.
“Do you want to stay there tonight or come back here?” Owen asked softly, tentatively.
“Would you be terribly upset if I wanted to stay here?” Brooke watched him shake his head and noticed the look of disappointment on his face. “We don’t have to,” she said quickly. “I’m fine with staying at the hotel too. I just thought maybe we should stay here and watch the house for Uncle Howard.”
“Oh,” he said with a sheepish grin.
“What? What’s that look for?”
“I thought you were saying you wanted to stay here. By yourself. That you didn’t want us to stay here together.”
Ah, she thought. They probably did need to talk about this. Walking over to him, Brooke took Owen’s hand and led him to the living room where they sat down on the sofa. She took a steadying breath and prepared to put her heart on the line.
“Okay, maybe this is going to freak you out, but here it is—I like being with you, Owen. A lot. And right now, with everything going on with my uncle, I don’t want to be alone. It’s selfish of me, I know, but there it is. I’ve…I’ve enjoyed sleeping beside you, and I know I’m a little bit quirky about my sleeping habits and all, but…” She looked at him pleadingly. “Will you stay with me tonight?”
Owen reached out and caressed her cheek. “Of course.” Then he studied her. Really studied her. She could tell he had something he wanted to say, and she figured she’d just wait him out. “Can I ask you something?” he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
Brooke nodded.
“Will you tell me why you need to sleep with the light on?”
Her eyes went wide as a soft gasp escaped her lips. “How… I mean… I don’t—”
His hand stopped caressing and instead gently cupped her face. “Brooke, you slept fine without a television when we camped and when we spent the night at my father’s. It was more about the light.” He continued to watch her. “I just…” He stopped and sighed. “I just want to know everything about you, and this seems to be a big thing for you.”
Oh God. Even though she knew this was going to come up eventually, Brooke wasn’t sure she could handle it right now. It had been an emotional day, to say the least, on top of what had been an emotional weekend.
On so many levels.
His hand skimmed down to cup her jaw. “You don’t have to,” he finally said.
“I know,” she said quietly and then moved out of his grasp. Sitting stiffly, her hands clasped in her lap, Brooke stared at the floor when she began to speak.
“You’re right. It’s not the television that I need; it’s the light.”
Beside her, Owen nodded but said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“Believe it or not, it’s not something that’s plagued me my whole life. It didn’t start until a few years ago. Five, to be exact. I feel so foolish every time I think about it. I mean, how many grown-ups are afraid of the dark?”
“I would imagine more than you think,” he said. But he didn’t move to touch her, and he didn’t try to give her any statistics or facts like he was prone to do.
“I was home for my summer break. Technically I should have graduated that spring, but I couldn’t seem to find a major and was well on my way to becoming a professional student.” She gave a mirthless laugh. “I was so happy to be home. I needed the break, and for so long I had been feeling like I was wasting my time and my tuition. Honestly, I wanted to quit—or at least take some time off. So I was determined to talk to my parents about it.”
“And did you?”
She nodded. “I got a lecture on why it was important to finish my education. They didn’t care what the degree was in, just that I get one. That was their deal. They claimed it would make me look better on paper.” Saying it out loud brought back all the same sick feelings she’d had that night so long ago.
“I argued my case and then just said I was overwhelmed. The pressure was too much, and once I figured out what it was I wanted to do, I’d go back and get a degree.”
“What did they say?”
“My father told me he didn’t believe I’d ever finish and it was a rotten way for me to waste his money. He spouted all kinds of figures at me—tuition, living expenses, textbooks, dorms… Ugh. It went on and on and on.” She paused, a small smile playing at her lips. “And then my brother stepped in.”
Without a word, she stood and went to the kitchen to grab something to drink, needing a minute to get herself together. When she went back to the living room, Owen was still sitting where she’d left him, his expression neutral.
Sitting down, she took a long drink from her glass of water before speaking again. “Neal and I were very different. We rarely spoke to one another—not like the way you would talk to one of your siblings,” she corrected. “So I was surprised he would not only get involved in this argument I was having with our parents but that he would take my side.”
Beside her, Owen nodded, and Brooke wasn’t sure if she was grateful or annoyed by his silence.
“He defended me. He told them how much pressure there is at school and how there were benefits to taking a break before finishing. Personally, I thought he was a little crazy—like I couldn’t believe he understood my struggle. After all, he had been through college and graduate school and didn’t have any issues. And after I’d done nothing but pick on him for being such a brainiac for so many years, this would have been the perfect opportunity to rub it in my face about how he was superior to me or put me down for being a quitter or a slacker.”
“He understood,” Owen said, and Brooke realized he was speaking from experience.
She nodded. “He did,” she said with a sigh. “Our parents were getting ready to go out with some friends. They were going into Manhattan for dinner and to see a show, and they weren’t interested in continuing the conversation. They left without us resolving anything.”
“That must have been upsetting for you.”
Again, she nodded. “It was. But I was used to keeping that sort of thing to myself. I had plans to go out with friends later that night, so I allowed myself to focus on that after my parents left.”
Taking another drink, she looked at Owen. “Would you like some water?” she asked.
“I’m good.”
“So there I was getting ready to go out, and Neal came into my room and asked if I was all right. I don’t know which part of that freaked me out more—the fact that he had come into my room or that he was concerned about me.” She laughed softly.
Owen chuckled with her.
“He sat down on my bed, and we talked. Really, really talked. I told him about how I was struggling, about how I wasn’t enjoying college and how the only classes I did enjoy were the art ones. We laughed about how many pointless classes you’re forced to take, and why was I taking biology when I wanted to be an art major? Or why do they require health if you’re a math major?” She laughed again. “For the first time in my entire life, I felt like we were connecting.”
“That was how I felt the other day with Darcy,” Owen said and then immediately apologized for interrupting her story.
“No…don’t apologize,” she said quickly. “I like learning more about you too.” Reaching out, she squeezed his hand, and then they just sat in silence for several minutes. “It started raining—storming really. Thunder, lightning… It was so loud. I just remember thinking that it was so damn loud.” Her heart began to beat wildly in her chest just then, as if she were back in her childhood home listening to the rain beat on the roof.
Owen squeezed her hand, and it brought her back to the present.
“My friend Kate called and wanted to know if we were still going out. Neal excused himself and said he had some studying to do. I thought it was odd since he was off for the summer just
like I was, but I didn’t say anything.” Emotion clogged her throat as tears welled in her eyes. “If I had just said something…kept him with me…kept talking to him instead of worrying about my stupid plans,” she sobbed as the tears rolled down her face.
“Brooke,” he murmured and moved closer, putting his arms around her and cradling her close. “Don’t. We don’t have to talk about this anymore.”
But she wasn’t listening. She’d come this far, and Owen deserved to know everything. “Kate and I talked for a long time, probably another half hour, trying to figure out what we should do. I was getting ready to hang up with Kate when there was a loud boom of thunder and I remember seeing the entire block light up from the lightning. Then the lights went out. I screamed,” she said with another small laugh. “I don’t even know why, but the lights went out, and I screamed. Kate yelled at me for screaming in her ear, and we decided we were going to just stay in and meet up for lunch the next day.”
Swallowing hard, she pushed on. “I put the phone down and tried to remember if I had any candles or a flashlight, not remembering I could use the light on my phone. So I left my room and made my way down to the kitchen, certain I’d find a flashlight or something to use down there. The thunder… It just seemed to keep going and going and going, and it vibrated off the walls to the point where I thought I’d go mad!” She paused. “And then it stopped. And everything was quiet for a minute. I called out to Neal to see if he knew where the flashlight was, but he didn’t answer.”
Her voice began to fade on the last word, and Owen continued to hold her. Brooke felt him place a kiss on her temple, and she realized she was clutching his shirt. He was murmuring to her, but his voice was so soft that she wasn’t sure she understood him.
“I went back up the stairs to knock on Neal’s door. I knocked, I called out, I banged on the door. Part of me thought he was just being funny because he’d heard me scream like a baby. Then I thought that maybe he had headphones on with his iPod or something. I opened the door to his room, and it was so dark—besides the power being out, all of his curtains were closed. I started to walk across the room, and I tripped over something. I thought it was maybe one of his duffel bags he’d brought home from school.”
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