by Rose Wulf
They were nearly to her apartment by the time Brooke pulled herself out of her musings to ask, “How’d the meeting with your family go? Nobody else got attacked last night, right?”
“Right,” Blake assured her. “We didn’t really make any progress, though. Dean’s convinced we’re all being stalked, Logan doesn’t think it’s that simple, and I don’t really know what to believe.”
“It’s crazy is what it is,” Brooke declared on a sigh.
Blake made a noise of agreement as he pulled into her driveway, parking once again behind her car. “Your duffel’s in the back.”
Brooke hesitated even as her eyes traveled to the backseat, confirming his words. She didn’t particularly want to be alone at the moment, knowing she’d just dwell even more on everything that had—and hadn’t—happened. But she also didn’t want to come off as clingy, or annoying. At length, she asked quietly, “Are you busy?”
He didn’t look remotely surprised by her question. Probably because she had no poker face. “No. Do you want some company?”
“I’ve always prided myself on being independent. Ever since I was a kid, bouncing around from foster family to foster family, I knew I could only really rely on myself. But there are still times when I know I really wouldn’t be my own best company, you know?”
Blake offered her a small, reassuring smile and tugged the keys from the ignition. “I think everyone has days like that. But I hope someday you’ll realize that it’s okay to rely on other people sometimes.”
Brooke reached around to tug her bag into her lap. “I’m learning that, too.” And though she meant it, in her heart Brooke knew she was talking specifically about Blake. It was almost frightening how strongly she trusted him already. Instead of saying that, though, she merely added, “Thank you.”
They climbed together from the car, and Brooke led the way to the door. It wasn’t until he was closing it behind them and she was opening her mouth to tell him to make himself comfortable that she realized she needed a shower. She, of course, had already known she smelled like a diner, but she hadn’t given it a single thought. And how rude would that be? Or she could invite him to join her… But no, she just wanted to wash the smell of greasy food out of her hair. She didn’t feel clean or desirable.
“I’m sorry,” Brooke said, earning a silent, raised eyebrow from Blake. “I probably smell like stale grease or something. I’m going to go change real quick.”
Blake chuckled and shook his head. “I don’t think you smell. But if it’ll make you more comfortable, I think I can entertain myself if you want to take a quick shower or something.”
Brooke smiled at him. “I’ll be fast, I promise.” When he nodded again she turned and dashed down her short hall, to the bedroom, where she could grab a decent change of clothes. She detoured in the hall to pull a towel from the closet and then disappeared inside her bathroom. She was going to take the fastest shower on record, but if it would get the smell out of her skin and hair, then it would be worth it.
****
As Brooke disappeared into her bedroom, Blake shook his head and migrated to her couch. He paused, standing before it, and found himself studying the far end. It was that end that would have been cut up by the imploding glass, and he hadn’t heard anything about her getting a replacement. Curiously, he moved to the window side and knelt down to get a better look.
When he ran his fingers lightly along the arm, he found a couple of spots that felt stitched together. Then he saw another patch job on the seat cushion, near the arm. It was smaller than the two he’d found with his fingers, but it was still obviously a repair from something slashing through the material. He doubted very much she’d taken a knife to her couch at any point.
His fingers moved to run along the small repair on the cushion, and he frowned. He could easily picture Brooke curled up on the couch, relaxed and winding down from a long day. He already knew she’d been caught completely off-guard by the storm. And it would have been so easy for her to have been caught by a large shard of glass while she’d still been sitting. She could’ve been hurt a lot worse.
It was a fact he’d already known, and something that had kept him up late on more than one night. But he hadn’t really been inside her apartment since then—at least not for any length of time. He hadn’t had the opportunity to visualize it from the inside. And as he did so now, he felt his temper boiling all over again. His earlier frustration returned in force, and Blake pulled his hands from her couch.
With clenched fists, Blake stood and moved to the other end before forcing himself to sit and wait. Twice she’d been attacked; twice she could well have been killed. Twice he almost hadn’t been fast enough. He refused to allow for a third.
We need to figure this out and find the monsters responsible. These were the same people—probably—that had already killed two of his uncles, and crippled a third. It was so easy for him to forget that, as the accidents had all happened long before he’d been born. He’d never known two of his uncles, and he didn’t know the man Nicholas could have been. If they weren’t careful, something similar could happen again, this time to them. Only now the people close to them were being dragged into it, too.
For the briefest of moments, he considered breaking up with Brooke. His heart clenched painfully at the very idea, but the pain wasn’t why he dismissed the notion almost as quickly. Breaking up with her wouldn’t keep her safe. Their enemy already knew that he cared about her; she would still be a target. In fact, he realized, she might actually be safer this way. At least I’m around, and she’ll call if she needs me.
His eyes traveled to the clock hanging on the wall above her television, though he stared at it for nearly a minute before registering what it said. He’d known, of course, what time she’d gotten off work. But it had only just occurred to him how close the dinner hour was. We never did do anything really noteworthy for dinner last night, he thought as his mind finally switched topics. Dinner the night before had really only been thrown together as a necessity, not because either of them were particularly inspired.
“Sorry to make you wait,” Brooke declared as she re-entered the living room. Her hair and skin were still damp, she was wearing clean clothes, and he instantly loved the way she pulled off the ‘fresh from the shower’ look.
“I wasn’t waiting too long,” he promised. “I never even got bored.”
She laughed softly and walked around him to settle on the other end of her couch, but she sat sideways so that she could see him. “That’s good,” she said as she tucked her foot behind her opposite knee.
Her sitting in the exact seat that had been damaged by her exploding window was not at all helping him keep the image of her covered in blood out of his head. But he tried not to let it show as he adjusted himself to properly face her. “So,” he began lightly. “What are your plans for the rest of the evening?”
“I don’t have any. I’m sure I’m supposed to pretend like I’m super busy, but the truth is, I’m all caught up on my homework and I have nothing to do between now and school tomorrow.”
Blake’s lips twitched. “That’s interesting. I’m pretty much in the same boat.” He paused, more for effect than anything else, and then he asked, “Think you’d be up for dinner? I figure we could try it more traditionally and keep our fingers crossed.”
With another soft laugh, Brooke said, “That’s awfully brave of you. What did you have in mind?”
“Well, for one thing, I was thinking we could try ditching our stalker. There’s a place about ten minutes past the college that I’ve always wanted to try, if you’re up for a little drive?”
“I can handle a little drive,” Brooke assured him, a teasing glint in her eyes. “But it better not turn into a medium drive.”
Blake laughed and pushed to his feet. He held out a hand to her. “Duly noted. Come on, by the time we get there it’ll be a good dinner time.”
Brooke reached out and placed her hand in his, allowing him to hel
p her to her feet. “I suppose it will,” she agreed. Before she could say anything more, Blake tugged her into his chest.
He dipped his head and captured her lips with his even as he released her hand and curved both of his arms around her. She immediately responded to his kiss, her hands clenching fistfuls of his shirt as their lips parted and their tongues met.
Blake trailed one hand along her spine slowly before he forced himself to pull away from her lips. His hands slid to her hips, and he smirked flirtatiously. “Ready to go?” he asked, his voice low and thick.
Brooke offered him a slow, seductive smile. “Yes,” she replied, her voice still slightly breathless.
He stepped back from her. “Good.”
Brooke rolled her eyes even as she laughed at him, and together they moved toward the entryway. Along the way, Brooke snatched her purse off of the dining table, and they paused just beyond her door so she could lock it back up.
They were still settling in the car when Blake decided he should probably let his family know he’d be out of town for a couple of hours. He pulled his phone from a pocket and began typing, having opted to just send a single group text to his siblings. He explained that he was taking Brooke to dinner out of town, telling them not to worry, and sent the message.
Though both of his parents had cell phones, neither were particularly text-oriented. Watching his mother try to text was akin to watching a dog trying to follow a cat up a tree—they tried the same thing over and over again, and the more they failed, the more determined they became. More frustrated, too. His father wasn’t much better.
As he dropped the phone back into his pocket, he remembered his earlier promise to his mother. “I have a question for you, by the way.”
Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”
“You’ve been invited to our family dinner this Saturday. Do you think you’d be interested?” It was certainly early in a relationship to be bringing his girlfriend home for dinner, he knew, but she’d already met his entire family. And the more he had thought about it, the more he hoped she’d come.
Her eyes widened in surprise, and it took her a minute to compose her answer. “Yeah, of course.”
He smiled at her response and inclined his head. “I’ll let them know, then.”
Brooke nodded as Blake put the car in motion. It was true she had already met his family, on multiple occasions now. But to have her over for an official family function, even if it was just a dinner, was unexpectedly heady. When his parents had first suggested it, he’d thought the idea awkward, but now it seemed significant. Now he felt the beginnings of very different nerves.
By the time Brooke spoke up again, having seemed lost in thought, Blake had navigated them to the interstate. “So, where are we going?”
“A steakhouse.”
Brooke waited a beat, but when he didn’t say more, she turned an exaggerated frown to him. “Is that all you’re going to tell me?”
“Yep,” Blake replied calmly. “I’ve heard their food’s good, but I’ve never been there. So we’ll find out together.”
Arching a pointed brow, Brooke asked, “You remember I used to live in that area, right? I might have been there.”
“I doubt it,” Blake said confidently. She’d told him she’d been living in Darien for two years, give or take, and the steakhouse they were headed towards was barely a year old. So the odds were in his favor, in his opinion.
Brooke was silent for another minute, watching the traffic slide by, before realization dawned and she asked, “Are we going to that new place?”
Blake laughed, the sound escaping from him without warning, and he flashed a quick smile in her direction before returning his gaze to the road. “Yes, we are.”
“I knew I’d figure it out,” Brooke declared proudly as she shifted and stretched out her legs as best she could. “But you were right, too. I haven’t been there.”
“That’s something, I suppose,” Blake agreed, still laughing faintly.
They fell silent again for a couple of minutes, Blake focusing on the road and Brooke relaxing into her seat, until she grumbled, “I just wish I knew who he was.”
Blake’s attention shifted to her for a moment. “You thinking about that mystery guy again?”
Brooke sighed heavily. “Yeah. He’s just so … haunting, I guess. And every time I see him I wish I would never see him again, but apparently I’m not that lucky.”
Blake scowled out his windshield. “Do me a favor. If you ever see him when I’m out with you, point him out to me, okay?”
“Sure.” Her brows crinkled in thought and she asked, “Do you think he has something to do with everything?”
“It would sort of fit, yeah. But I have no proof.”
“Did you talk to Angela about him?” Brooke asked curiously.
The question threw him for a minute, until he remembered the story Brooke had told him before. “No,” he admitted. “But I’m definitely going to now. Even if all she can give me is a name, it’s still more than we have right now.”
“That’s true,” Brooke agreed. “But what good would a name really do?”
“If we could get a full name, we might be able to track him down somehow.”
“Maybe,” Brooke allowed, her fingers absently picking at the hem of her shirt. “But you probably don’t want to start poking around before we know enough; you could get hurt.”
Blake’s grip tightened over his steering wheel, but he kept his voice calm as he replied, “We’re already getting hurt. This has to end.”
Silently, Brooke reached over and let her hand land on his thigh. She gave his thigh a squeeze, and then moved her hand around a little in a rubbing motion before she pulled it back to her lap.
He took one hand from the wheel and reached out, catching her hand and holding it in his. His thumb ran over her knuckles lightly before he laced their fingers together. He made no move to pull away.
Chapter Eighteen
Their impromptu date went off without a hitch, and before Brooke realized it, several days had gone by and she was once again working the late shift on Wednesday. She’d seen Blake in class, and they had talked on the phone a couple of times, but otherwise they hadn’t gotten any time together. And she knew she was ridiculous for being bothered by that, since she had technically seen—or at least spoken with—him every single day, but she had spent a majority of the weekend in his presence and had quickly discovered she liked it that way.
I’m a moron, she decided as she secured another dinner order. A complete, love-struck moron. It was official, though she couldn’t quite believe it herself. She had realized the truth of her situation after Blake had dropped her off Sunday night. She, Brooke Munroe, had fallen in love. And miracle of miracles, he was a decent, respectable, reliable, family-man. Wait until Mom hears about this. If I don’t tell her in person, she won’t believe me.
The only problem was, she had no idea how he felt about her.
That’s not exactly true, she corrected herself as she maneuvered her way back into the dining area, to greet her newest table. He definitely cares. She only wished she knew how much, and how long she would undoubtedly have to wait before he returned her feelings. She absolutely refused to consider the possibility that he might never feel that way.
But before she could dwell on it further, her new table was in sight, and she found herself pausing just to make sure that she wasn’t hallucinating. She blinked several times in rapid succession, but he was still there. Still sitting opposite his sister, who was talking quietly and hadn’t seen her yet. Releasing a deep breath, Brooke didn’t try to stop the smile that instantly curved her lips. She wasn’t at all surprised by the faint fluttering of butterflies in her stomach.
“Well, this is a surprise,” she declared as she stepped up to their table.
Blake and Angela looked up at her and smiled. “A good one, I hope,” Blake teased with a lopsided grin.
“Always,” Brooke assured him, laughing f
aintly.
Angela rolled her eyes dramatically. “For the record, it was my idea. I think he thought it’d be awkward to take his little sister to his girlfriend’s work.”
Brooke laughed a bit more, raising an eyebrow at Blake. “Is that so?”
It was Blake’s turn to chuckle as he mock-glared at his sister. “Only partially. She suggested it before I could.”
“Right,” Angela declared sarcastically as she leaned back against the booth.
Reluctantly extracting her notepad, Brooke said, “Well, I can talk more when I bring your drinks, but for now I actually have another table to check on… So, what can I start you with?”
Blake allowed his sister to order first, before ordering his own beverage and smiling once more at his girlfriend before she walked off.
Angela was laughing at him when he returned his attention to her, and he frowned pointedly. “That’s not very nice, you know.”
“I’m perfectly allowed to laugh at my brother.” She paused before leaning forward again, resting her arms on the table, and lowering her voice in order to ask, “Do you love her yet?”
Blake nearly choked on his own breath at her question, and as he recovered himself, he raised an eyebrow at her and said, “I’m surprised you’re willing to talk about that.”
Angela gave him a pointed look. “Girls love to talk about love; even you should know that. It’s the physical stuff that sisters don’t want to know about. And you’re avoiding the question.”
Having this conversation with his seventeen-year-old sister was not exactly ideal. Especially since he’d only recently admitted the answer to himself. Returning her pointed look with one of his own, Blake said, “That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about, Angie.”
Never one to back down, Angela said calmly, “Well, it’s what I want to talk about. Conversations have to work both ways, you know.”
“Not here,” Blake insisted firmly. He knew he was going to get stuck answering her question, but he wasn’t going to do so when the woman they were talking about could walk up to them at any given moment.