by Skye Jordan
“Why didn’t you call and tell me?” he asked, guilt flooding into his gut. “I can talk to her. If I can’t get her to change her mind, there are other avenues, Brooke, legal avenues—”
“No.” Her rejection was sharp and resolute, and it sparked anger in the pit of his stomach. “You cannot talk to her. It’s over. She’s made up her mind.” Brooke lowered her gaze, took a breath, and softened her tone. “Look, our time together was great, but we both knew it was ending soon. Like I said in the note, it’s just time for me to move on.”
“Move on?” The sparks inside him caught fire. He stepped around the door, took her by the arms, and turned her to face him. But even without the door between them, there were still barriers. Her barriers. “So you can find another adventure? Is that what I’ve been to you?”
“Keaton, this isn’t a big deal.” But now she sounded a little more like Keaton felt, distressed and upset. She tried to pull away. “Tomorrow you’ll find someone new, and—”
“Don’t.” He held tighter, desperate to get her to listen. To admit she didn’t want to walk away from him. “Don’t minimize what’s between us. I know it happened fast, but you know it’s real. This isn’t you. This is her. Don’t let Jillian do this.”
Brooke’s gaze cut to his, and a flash of hurt there burned so deep, it stole his breath. “No, Keaton, this is you. You did this.” Hurt gave way to anger, and she yanked her arms from his grasp. “You know what she’s like. I warned you what would happen. I asked you not to confront her, but you did anyway. And just like I said in the beginning, if she caught even a hint of favoritism toward me, I would be the one to suffer.”
“I didn’t show favoritism. I purposely made a point to include her treatment of everyone on the cast and crew so I didn’t look partial. You think I’d do that?” That cut him. Deep. “You think I’d deliberately hurt you?”
“Brooke, honey…” Their gazes both swung toward the driver, who was standing in the open driver’s door. “We have to go, or you’ll miss your plane.”
She nodded and turned back around but didn’t meet Keaton’s gaze. “None of this matters…” Suddenly, she sounded broken, as if the bottom had dropped out of her fight, and another wave of guilt crashed through Keaton. “This is why I left you the note. Because I knew this would happen. Because I didn’t want to end things like this.”
“Miss the plane, Brooke,” he pleaded softly, running a hand over her hair. He craved the feeling of her leaning into him. Yearned to hear the word “Yes” from her lips. “Let’s talk about this.”
A sound escaped her, part exhale, part sob. She shook her head, straightened her shoulders, and met his eyes in a soldier-like way that left Keaton bemused. “Sorry, I can’t. I have to get home. I need to get back to my family.”
Another stab cut Keaton, this one dead center through his heart. She turned away, but he grabbed her arm to stop her. “I’m only asking for enough time to talk this through, Brooke, because I already think of you as family.”
A tremor passed through her small frame. Her free hand gripped the doorframe, and she turned back to him with the strangest expression, one he could only identify as a mix of agony and affection.
“It’s over, Keaton…” Her voice shook, but the words cut Keaton straight down the middle. “Let me focus on what matters.”
11
Brooke wandered down the hospital hallway toward the new room assigned to Justin on the pediatric floor of Shriner’s Hospital for Children, with two sodas from the vending machine in one hand, her phone in the other, and knots all through her stomach.
She stared at Keaton’s name in her contact list and chewed on the corner of her lower lip, which was swollen and sore by the time she gave up on making the call—for what felt like the hundredth time over the last month.
Turning into Justin’s room, she found Tammy in front of the IV pole, checking the monitor’s settings. Her sister glanced over her shoulder, and her gaze sharpened. “That was way too fast.” Her voice was lowered so she didn’t disturb Justin’s sleep. “You didn’t call, did you?”
Brooke’s mouth twisted in self-disgust. Instead of providing the obvious answer, she offered Tammy her favorite drink.
Her sister took the Dr. Pepper, then used it to point at Brooke. “You’re just making yourself miserable by dragging it out. It’s eating you up, Brooke.”
“I know.” She stuffed her phone into the back pocket of her jeans and paused at Justin’s bedside to gaze down at him. “God, I still see him as a baby when he’s sleeping. Did they say anything else before they brought him up?”
Tammy smiled down at her son and brushed his hair off his forehead. “Just that he was talking about gummi bear angels right before he went under.”
They both broke into laughter.
“One of the OR nurses saw me as we were coming up and told me it was another successful procedure. She said their other children have experienced an exponential improvement in their breathing capacity after the second treatment, something they haven’t seen to the same degree in adults.”
“Really?”
Tammy nodded, then shrugged. “No idea if that will continue to grow with the last treatment or not, but they’re hopeful.”
A giddy mix of excitement and relief jumped in Brooke’s stomach, and her eyes stung with happy tears. “Oh my God, think what that could mean for millions of kids with asthma. That’s so awesome.”
Tammy turned to Brooke and pulled her into a tight hug. “You’re so awesome.” Her voice filled with tears. “He would never have had this chance if it weren’t for you. And I wouldn’t be halfway through nursing school either.”
“Hey,” she soothed, hugging Tammy back. “I love you guys. We’re family. We stick together.”
Tammy leaned away, smiling with tears sliding down her cheeks. She rubbed them away with the back of her hand. “We love you too. Which is why I want you to get on that phone and call him already.”
“I will,” she said, frustrated, then hedged with reservations, “…maybe…”
“Maybe? What’s this maybe? We’ve talked this out. We agreed you’d—”
“I know, I know.” She turned away, popped the top on her soda, and wandered to the window to look out over the lush green lawns surrounding the hospital. “I just…I wonder if it would just be better to leave it alone. I mean, it’s been, what, over a month? Five weeks? He’s probably forgotten all about it. Calling now and bringing it back up just to apologize seems…”
She released a frustrated breath and shook her head. Beyond smoothing over some hurt feelings, it seemed pointless. It wasn’t like he’d want to see her again after she’d explained. And even on the one-in-a-million chance that he did, her new job involved just as much travel as her last. They’d never be able to make something long-term work. Brooke just wasn’t sure if opening that door by calling without the possibility of something more was good for either of them. Then she realized how presumptive that was and got confused all over again.
“I don’t know if it’s a good idea,” she said, agonizing over the decision the way she’d been agonizing over it for weeks—ever since she’d gotten the new job with an income to cover Justin’s procedure and didn’t need to abide by Jillian’s brutal, self-serving rules. “And I still don’t know what to say or how to say it or if it’s even something I should say over the phone.”
A beat of silence passed while Brooke worked over the conversation she wanted to have with him in her mind. But the thought of hearing that deep, rich voice over the line and not being able to see him or touch him… God, the pain ate at her. And it just kept getting worse as time passed instead of fading.
“You’re right.” The male voice sent a shiver down her spine. “It’s not the kind of conversation to have over the phone.”
Brooke’s heart thumped hard. She pulled a sharp breath and turned.
Keaton stood just inside the door to Justin’s room. He wore jeans and a black, hooded sweat jack
et that zipped up the front, a white tee underneath. The sight of him made her feel like electricity arced through her body.
“Oh my God.” Her gaze jumped from Keaton to Tammy, registered her well-you-don’t-get-a-choice-now-do-you look, and back to Keaton. “What are you…? How did you…?”
She forced her mind to stop spinning, but that made her heart ache and yearn and hope. And God, that terrified her. What added to that fear was his expression, one she couldn’t read. He didn’t exactly look angry, but he definitely wasn’t happy. Sober? Serious? Edgy? She wasn’t quite sure, and that alone dragged Brooke’s feet back to the ground—like a rock.
Regrouping, she dropped her gaze, and noticed something in his hand. A rectangular box about the size of a book, wrapped in bright paper.
A gift. For Justin.
Of course.
She’d almost forgotten about Justin’s continued communication with Keaton until the science fair project had been completed. One that had brought Justin stardom throughout the school and earned him an A plus.
Brooke swallowed the lump of disappointment, set her soda on the window ledge, and crossed her arms.
“I…um…” Tammy said, lifting her can of soda, “…think I need some ice for this. Text me if you leave or if Justin wakes up, but he should be out for another couple of hours.”
On her way out, Tammy closed the door behind her. For a long moment, Brooke and Keaton just looked at each other. She swore she had a magnet the size of a football lodged beneath her ribs drawing her toward Keaton like a steel rod. And her chest ached with the effort it took to stay put.
She was just about to tell him how great he looked when Keaton’s gaze slid toward Justin, and he asked, “How’s he doing?”
The sound of his voice, lowered for Justin’s benefit, moved something inside Brooke. It brought back memories of his voice beside her in bed from their short but intense time together and thickened her throat.
“He, um…” She took a steadying breath. “He was only awake briefly after the procedure, just about an hour ago, but they say it went great. Aftereffects of the surgery are minimal, and side effects of the new medications are manageable.”
She realized the clinical approach wasn’t going to work. Not when he was just two steps away. Not when she had to dig her fingers into her arms to keep herself from taking those two steps and throwing herself at him for the sheer relief of feeling his arms around her, feeling him supporting her again.
“So…” She took another breath, slow and deep, trying to keep her emotions from spilling over. “He’s doing really, really well.”
Keaton’s gaze returned to her, still veiled. “Then it was all worth it.”
His response hammered her composure. The answer was yes and no, but she didn’t begin to know how to convey the depth of what seemed like such a simple answer on the surface into something sufficient to mend the rift she’d caused between them.
Only now did she realize why it had taken her so long to contact him again—because no matter why she’d done what she’d done, she’d still hurt Keaton in the process. And she knew in her heart there was nothing she could say to make that go away. It had happened. He’d felt it. The break between them had been made.
Words would not turn back time. Words would not change reality.
And the heaviness of that exhausted her.
“Is that for Justin?” she asked, weary and heartbroken over the potential of what they’d lost. “I’d be happy to give him the gift when he wakes up. You don’t have to stay.”
“If I just wanted to give him a present, I would have sent it in the mail. I’m here because Dupleaux returned to the set. I’m not working on the movie anymore.”
She lowered her arms and pressed one hand to the foot rail of Justin’s bed, trying to clear her mind enough to think straight. “I don’t understand how that relates to—”
“Neither do I. At least not anymore.” His jaw ticked. “I thought that was part of the agreement you made with Jillian—not talking to me while I was working on the set.”
Oh shit. He knew?
He moved to the tray table against the wall where Tammy had piled her textbooks to study while Justin slept and set the gift on top of the stack. Then he met her eyes again.
“I’d planned on coming find you so I could tell you how sorry I am for fucking things up between you and Jillian. Because you were right. When I thought about it, I realized I did defend you a little too hard that day. And even though I tried to cover, Jillian saw through it. So that was my mistake, and staying away from you so you could abide by the agreement you made with Jillian and get the care Justin needed was my payment for that mistake. I almost ruined that for both of you once. I wasn’t going to chance it again.”
He wandered to the far wall, leaned his back against it, and crossed his arms, his gaze roaming the room. “But when I called Troy and Ellie to find out where you were, I heard about your new job. The one that’s making this treatment possible and the one you had within a week of being fired. His eyes narrowed in consideration, or maybe discomfort; Brooke couldn’t tell. “I didn’t want to believe that you would stay away from me when you didn’t have to. I didn’t want to believe that you wouldn’t contact me to tell me about the procedure and how Justin was doing when there was nothing stopping you.”
He cut another look around the room, and there was no mistaking the raw hurt in his expression “But it looks like that’s exactly what you did.”
Her breathing hitched, picking up speed. Her mind started another spin cycle. “You…waited?”
He returned his gaze to hers and held it a long second before he said, “Yeah.” A flash of pain shone in his eyes and cut straight through Brook’s heart. “But it’s pretty clear you didn’t. So you probably had it right. This probably wasn’t the best idea.” He straightened away from the wall. “At least you know I didn’t forget.”
He turned and was halfway out the door before Brooke managed to grab a handful of his jacket. “Wait.”
His free hand gripped the doorframe, and his body hummed with tension.
“Don’t go.” Brooke glanced at Justin to make sure he was still resting, then stepped close to Keaton and wrapped her free arm around his waist, squeezed her eyes closed, and pressed her head to his back. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for things to—”
Keaton turned, breaking her hold. Then his arms closed around her and hauled her up against him so hard, all her air whooshed out. He pressed his face to her hair and exhaled heavily, the sound part agony, part bliss.
“Knock, knock.” The soft, cheerful voice of the nurse on duty—Brooke was beginning to believe she knew them all—sounded as she passed into the room, as if she were knocking to interrupt their embrace, not to enter the room, because the door was still propped open by their bodies.
Keaton lifted his head and loosened his arms but didn’t let Brooke go, and she wanted to weep with relief, with joy, with so much love, it swamped her. She kept her face pressed to his chest, where she breathed in the spicy, male scent of pure Keaton.
“Why don’t you two take a break?” the nurse said. “Tammy’s in the cafeteria. I have her number. I’ll call y’all if Justin wakes, but I suspect he’ll be out for most of the afternoon.”
“Thank you.” Keaton’s fingers slid down Brooke’s arm and clasped around her hand. “We’ll be back.”
He pulled Brooke from the room and looked both ways down the corridor.
“The elevators are—” Brooke started.
But Keaton turned the other direction. “I don’t want the elevators. I want privacy.”
Brooke wouldn’t have been able to keep up with him if he hadn’t been dragging her. She avoided the curious stares of hospital staff, her mind darting all over the place at dizzying speed. Within seconds, Keaton pushed through the door to a stairwell, and pulled Brooke out of the doorway and into his arms again. With his arms wrapped tight around her waist, he bent to pull her s
o close, their bodies connected from knees to shoulders, and he dropped his face to the hollow of her neck again.
“I’ve fuckin’ missed you so bad.” His rasped words echoed the pain aching inside Brooke, and before she could respond, he pulled back and pressed his lips to hers.
Brooke hummed with relief so deep it was painful. Tears spilled from her eyes and added a salty poignancy to the moment. He tilted his head and kissed her deeper, and the hunger and longing Brooke had been stuffing away to get through every day overwhelmed her. She tightened her arms around his neck and opened to him the way she’d dreamt of kissing him every spare moment for the last month.
Keaton moaned into her mouth, lifted one hand to the back of her head, and caressed a hand over her hair. The sweet move choked Brooke with emotion, and she broke the kiss with an urgent need to explain everything, even though she knew it wouldn’t erase the pain.
“I left Austin because she forced me to choose. It was horrible. I was torn apart. And there was no right answer. No matter what I did, someone I loved was going to get hurt. So I sided with Justin. I had to. It’s who I am.”
“I know,” he said, wiping at her wet cheek. “It was the right thing.”
“As soon as I got home,” she said, “I called Ellie. I had to get a job so I could pay for the rest of this procedure. Ellie and Troy went to Jax. They put their heads together and got me a couple of interviews…”
She paused her ramble to draw air. “I’ve been crazy. I feel like I’m spinning. Trying to get used to someone new, still walking on eggshells, waiting for the next trapdoor to open under my feet, hoping I can get Justin through program before anything bad happens. I’ve wanted to call. I’ve had my finger hovering over the Send button a hundred times since I left—”
He kissed her again, this time gently, his lips lingering in a way that made the stress drift from Brooke’s body and allowed her to lean into him. Finally finding a place to rest after doing so much on her own.
He lifted his lips from hers, pressed them to her forehead, and pulled her close again.