A Sky Full of Stars

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A Sky Full of Stars Page 28

by Samantha Chase


  “I’m sorry, Darce. I really am. I’m sure in time—”

  “I know,” Darcy quickly interrupted. “I know. I’m glad they’re all married and they married great women who do get me. They’re all so perfect for my brothers…You are too, you know.”

  Brooke sighed. “I thought so too. But it just wasn’t meant to be.”

  “Well…I hope you and I can still be friends.”

  “I’d like that. A lot.”

  “I should go. I want to try to get Owen on the phone and make sure he’s okay. I kind of feel like he and I bonded after the whole fiasco in Vegas. I hate that he’s sick and alone in some hotel room.”

  So did Brooke.

  “You said the connection with your dad wasn’t good. Are you sure he said Owen was sick?”

  “Yes! We were talking and he was saying how he was going to try to get a flight out because Owen was sick and he was worried and—”

  “Okay, okay… I still have my ticket, and it’s a direct flight. It won’t get me there soon, but it will get me there today,” Brooke said, worry for Owen overwhelming her. “Is Riley still in LA? He could get there faster.”

  “He’s in London this week for a performance or something,” Darcy replied anxiously. “Are you serious, Brooke? You would do that? Even though…you know…you guys aren’t dating anymore?”

  “Darcy, the breakup wasn’t my idea. I hate it, actually. But I couldn’t stay with him knowing he thought the things he did. I told him I loved him, and—”

  “You did? Oh my God, that’s awesome! You have to go! You have to go and make sure he’s okay, and then maybe—”

  What can of worms had Brooke just opened? “One thing at a time, Darce…one thing at a time.”

  “Okay, you’re right. Sorry. I just… Owen’s the best, you know? I mean, out of all of my brothers—and I know they’re all great—Owen’s special. He’s got the biggest heart, and I hate knowing he’s alone so much. That’s why I thought it was so great that the two of you had found each other. I knew you’d take care of him.”

  Brooke’s heart actually hurt. “I wanted to…”

  “Then go! Please!” Darcy begged. “Go to him. He’s already a mess over this trip. I know that can’t be helping him with whatever’s going on right now.”

  Could she do this? Could she get on the plane and go to Owen? What if…

  “What if he doesn’t want me there?”

  “Oh please. How could he not?”

  Now her heart felt as if it would pound right out of her chest. Maybe this was exactly what she needed to do—to see him and make him see reason. To convince him to give them another chance!

  Jumping up from the bed, she said, “I’ve gotta go, Darcy. I have to pack!”

  “Yeah! I totally love that you’re going! Promise me you’ll call and tell me what’s up! And I’m going to want to know everything! Like every word he says when you barge in there and demand that he take you back! Only…wait until he’s not sick anymore. You know…show him a little sympathy. And then—”

  “Darcy!”

  “Yeah?”

  “I have to go!”

  “Okay, okay! Sheesh!”

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later Brooke walked outside and found her uncle sitting alone at the chess table. “You got a minute?”

  “For you,” he replied, smiling, “I’ve got as many as you need. What’s up?”

  “First…how are you feeling?”

  He shrugged. “Not so bad today. Your mother texted that she’ll be here at five, so I’m hoping to still be feeling that way when she gets here.”

  “You’ll have to give her my love.”

  Howard’s brows shot up. “Excuse me?”

  “I’m going to Red Rock.”

  And then Howard’s entire face transformed from confusion to pleasure. He was positively glowing. “Really?”

  Brooke nodded. “I have to. I have to go to him.”

  Slowly, Howard came to his feet and walked over and hugged her. “Thank God.”

  She pulled back and looked at him. “What does that mean?”

  “Brookie, you’ve been moping around, and when I spoke to Owen yesterday, he sounded positively morose. It’s obvious you’re both miserable. So go. I’ll handle your mother for you.”

  “I hate to just leave like this.”

  “Nonsense. You were always going to be leaving on this trip. You just forgot about it for a while.”

  Brooke couldn’t help but smile. Leaning in, she kissed him on the cheek and gave him another hug. “Thank you. For everything.”

  “Promise me something,” he said, his tone serious, solemn.

  “Anything.”

  “Stop looking at the past. Both of you. It’s time to start looking toward the future.”

  “I know,” she said softly. “I’m going to try.”

  Howard shook his head. “That’s not enough. You need to move forward now, but to do that, you need to say good-bye—to the past. To your guilt. To everything.”

  Her throat tightened. “How… I don’t know—”

  “This little green space I have out here is a sanctuary to me. I come out here sometimes and…talk.”

  Seriously, now? Now he was choosing to go back into this speaking-in-riddles mode?

  “I love when we come out here and talk,” she said, hoping to prompt him along. She still had to call a cab.

  Howard shook his head. “Although I enjoy that too, that wasn’t what I was talking about.” He paused. “I come out here and talk to your aunt. And Neal.”

  She took a small step back and looked at him as if he were crazy. “You mean when we were younger. When—”

  “No. I mean now. In the present. Hell, I sat out here talking to your aunt just last night. She’ll be thrilled that you’re going after Owen.”

  Maybe his illness was making him hallucinate, she thought. “Uncle Howard…you can’t—”

  He didn’t let her finish. “Brooke, you can talk to those who are no longer with us anywhere you want. It doesn’t have to be at a cemetery or while you’re in church. This garden, your aunt and I used to sit out here a lot—have a glass of wine, talk about our day. When you and your brother would come to visit, we’d sit out here, play chess, and talk.” He paused, laughed softly. “That boy was a whiz at chess, but I had figured out his strategy.”

  “His strategy?”

  Nodding, Howard said, “He favored the bishop. Always.” Then he pointed to the corner of the yard. “I had that made for him—as my own little memorial to him. I think he would have liked it.”

  And there in the corner of the yard was a three-foot-tall statue of a bishop. Why hadn’t she noticed that before? “When did you do that?” she asked, even as she walked over to it.

  “About a year after he died. I keep it there—it’s always in my line of vision when I play—and it makes me feel like he’s here with me.” He shrugged. “But maybe that’s just the wishful thinking of an old man.”

  She turned to him, tears in her eyes. “It’s lovely. And it’s perfect.” Her heart hurt, her throat constricted.

  Howard put a hand on her shoulder, squeezed. “Talk to him. Before you go. Just…talk to him.”

  Before she could form a protest, he was in the house, the door closed. Brooke stood there for a long moment, not knowing what to do or say. It seemed…weird. When Neal had died, he’d been cremated. There was no cemetery plot to go to, no markers anywhere. He had loved the ocean, and his ashes had been scattered there. Now, as she looked down at the bishop, she smiled because…Neal had a marker.

  The spot was shaded, and she slowly sank to the grass and sat facing the garden. A small, self-conscious laugh came out before she could stop it. “Am I crazy?” she murmured and then waited to see if someone would answer. After
a long moment of silence, she swallowed hard and took a steadying breath. With her eyes closed, she slowly breathed out and then focused on the bishop.

  “I know it’s too late,” she began, her voice trembling, “too late for this to really matter or make a difference, but…I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” She paused, swiped at the tears that were already blinding her. “That night—that horrible night…I know I said that to you, screamed it, begged you to hear me, but you were already gone. Maybe you did hear me, but…it was too late.” Her voice cracked, and she took a minute to compose herself.

  “If I could, I’d take every mean thing I ever said to you, every indifferent shrug, every snarky comment—I’d take it all back. I’d listen to you. Learn from you.” Then she stopped and chuckled. “Not that I would have been successful. You know I was never very good with academics.”

  A small breeze blew by, and Brooke did her best to tame her hair, move it out of her face.

  “I never understood why…why we were so different. I look back, and it’s easy to blame Mom and Dad. But we weren’t children. Not at the end. We knew better. We could have tried harder.” And then it hit her. “We both could have tried harder, Neal. I know I wasn’t perfect, but neither were you. You were the smart one—I’m sure you figured it out long before I did that we could have changed our relationship. Maybe…maybe if you had talked to me like a sister rather than a nuisance…” Then she stopped, knew she was kidding herself. “I probably wouldn’t have listened.”

  Swiping away more tears, she let out a long breath. “Why’d you do it like that? Was that my punishment? Was that your way of finally getting even with me for being such a bitch?” Her voice grew stronger, her heart beat harder. “Well…you win! It was horrible! And it was mean and cruel—far more than anything I ever did to you!” She jumped to her feet, suddenly filled with rage. “Do you have any idea what that did? What your actions did to me? To Mom? To Dad? If you weren’t happy, why didn’t you talk to someone? Uncle Howard or a counselor or…anyone! Damn it, Neal, there… What you did wasn’t the answer!”

  Another breeze blew, and Brooke cursed the fact that her hair was loose.

  “You’ve missed so much,” she said after a long, quiet moment. After she’d gotten herself a little more under control, she continued. “That night…it was so wonderful to talk to you! I learned more about you in that one hour of conversation than I had ever known before then. I felt like… I thought you enjoyed it too. That maybe you actually liked me—as a person. It made me feel good that my successful and supersmart brother saw some value in me beyond a pageant title.” She paused. “And then you left. And you left me to find you. Why? Why, damn it?”

  Another pause. Another moment to calm her breathing, her thoughts. She knew she wasn’t going to get an answer. “You would have liked Owen. He’s scary smart like you. But he’s so much more than that. He’s kind and sweet and gentle and compassionate. I look at him, and I’m in awe—not just of all he’s accomplished but because he sees me in a way that no one else ever has. I think about how amazing it would have been for us to all have dinner together, for me to have to sit there and listen to the two of you talking about things that I didn’t understand.” She chuckled. “And I probably would have griped about it, and ultimately we would have laughed and found a topic we could all talk about. At least…that’s how I like to think it would have been.”

  Somewhere off in the distance a horn honked, and she could hear a car door closing—life beyond the fence was moving on.

  Just as she needed to.

  “I miss you. Every single day…I miss you. I wish I had known you—really known you. And I’m so sorry that you thought that leaving this world was better than staying here.” She stood and waited—hoped—for…something. Anything. Some sort of sign that he’d heard her. Did her uncle ever get that?

  She wiped away her tears and sighed, looking down at the bishop. “What I wouldn’t give to just talk to you one more time.” Reaching out, she touched the statue, knowing full well it wasn’t Neal, but it seemed…fitting. “I love you.” Her voice was no more than a whisper.

  Turning, she walked toward the house and felt…better. A little emotionally drained but better. If she could, she’d talk for hours, and maybe at another time, she would. But for now—for today—it was good. The wind picked up, and she looked at the chess table and saw that her uncle had left the pieces out. They started to wobble in the wind, and she hurried forward to catch any that fell. Amazingly, only one did. Crouching down, she picked it up. As she stood, Brooke studied the piece in her hand and smiled.

  The bishop.

  Her hand closed tightly around it, and she smiled and looked up at the sky.

  “Thank you.”

  Placing the piece in her pocket, Brooke walked back into the house and found her uncle sitting on the sofa reading. She walked over and kissed him on the forehead. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t ask for her to clarify. He smiled at her because he knew.

  “You were absolutely right,” she said.

  He nodded.

  Looking at her watch, she knew it was time to go. “I need to… I still have to call—”

  “Go,” Howard said, his smile serene. “Have a safe trip.”

  “Wish me luck!”

  “Always, Brookie. Always.”

  She was about to leave the room when she turned to him. “I owe you a chess piece.”

  Chuckling, Howard waved her off. “No worries. I have a spare set of pieces.”

  Relief swamped her. “I love you, Uncle Howard.”

  “Love you too, my sweet girl. Now go or you’ll miss your flight!”

  She ran up to her room and grabbed her luggage, purse, and phone and then quickly ran back down. She had ordered an Uber to take her to the airport, and the car was due any minute. Rather than wait for a text, Brooke headed for the curb.

  It was silly to go to the airport so early, but if there was a chance she could get on an earlier flight, she was going to take it.

  The car pulled up, and she tossed her bags in and climbed in beside them. The driver confirmed which terminal she was going to, and then they were on their way. She contemplated calling Owen—to alert him she was coming and to check on him—but decided against it. She didn’t know if she’d be able to handle him telling her not to come. No, she’d rather take the chance and show up and deal with him face-to-face.

  The airport was only ten miles away, but with traffic it took almost thirty minutes to get there, and she was practically bouncing in her seat the entire time. She quickly paid the driver, collected her belongings, and ran to the ticket counter. Unfortunately, there were no seats available on flights that would get her to Nevada any sooner—the only ones that left sooner had layovers and wouldn’t save her any time, so she opted to stick with her original flight.

  To pass the time, she ate lunch, bought some magazines, and pretty much cursed the clock, which didn’t seem to be moving at all. When her flight was finally called, she almost jumped up and cheered. And although it felt like it took forever, she knew it wasn’t long before she boarded and the plane was ready for takeoff.

  She fidgeted almost the entire flight. To the point that she was getting angry looks from the woman sitting beside her. But Brooke didn’t care. Her mind was racing with trying to come up with what she was going to say to Owen when she saw him and…

  Wait a minute.

  Where was she going to be seeing him? Damn it! In all of her rushing around, she never thought to confirm he was staying at the hotel where they had originally planned to! What if—because of his change in travel plans—he had changed his hotel too? There wasn’t anything she could do about that now. Once she was off the plane, she’d have to text Darcy to see if she could find out. If not, she was stuck taking a shuttle to the hotel and hoping for the best.

  Sure enough, it looked l
ike she was going to hope for the best. When the plane landed, Darcy wasn’t answering her calls or texts, so with no other choice, Brooke took the shuttle she and Owen had originally booked and headed for their hotel.

  Once Brooke arrived, she went to the front desk and asked for Owen’s room. Part of her was afraid they wouldn’t tell her, but luckily, both of their names were on the reservation.

  “Yes, ma’am. Mr. Shaughnessy checked in early. He is in room 1010. If you walk to the far left side of the lobby and turn right, you’ll find the elevators there.” The clerk handed her a key and wished her a pleasant stay.

  “Thank you,” she said, relief flooding her. It was all she could do to keep from running across the lobby, but that’s not to say there wasn’t a whole lot of pep in her step! At the elevators, she was back to being nervous as she hit the button and waited, and she was thankful that when the elevator arrived and the doors opened, she was the only one boarding.

  “Don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous, don’t be nervous,” she chanted. “If nothing else, you know he’s polite and won’t throw you out.” That was little comfort actually. She didn’t want Owen to be polite; she wanted him to be happy to see her. Thrilled to see her. Hell, she wanted him to be so relieved that she was there that he would fall to his knees in gratitude.

  Wishful—and ridiculous—thinking, she knew.

  The elevator dinged as it stopped on the tenth floor, and Brooke stepped out and got her bearings. With the sign pointing her in the right direction, she took a steadying breath, turned to the right, and made her way down the hall.

  At room 1010, she stopped. Looking down at herself, she straightened her top and smoothed down her skirt before quickly running her fingers through her hair. She almost reached into her purse for her lip gloss but knew she was just stalling for time.

  “Just do it. Just knock. It’s not hard.”

  And yet…she didn’t.

  For a solid minute, Brooke stood there and wondered if she had made the wrong decision. Maybe this wasn’t the time to act rashly and do something so out of the—

  Then she remembered the last time she had done something impulsive—when she and Owen had hopped a plane to Vegas together.

 

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