“Brock, no,” Nora jumps in, so I release Brooke to watch her walk out the front door alone.
What the fuck have I missed?
“You see? She wasn’t running away from someone. She was running toward someone.”
“I get it.”
Brooke’s mother just finished filling me on everything I’d never have guessed. Over the last month and a half, while spending time with Brooke, I thought I understood the degree of admiration and love she held for her father. It wasn’t until today that I learned not only are Brooke and her father close, but as far as she’s concerned, he not only hangs the moon, he named all the stars after her.
“She talks about you guys a lot,” I aimlessly advise. “She did, I mean. When we were together.”
“They’re very close. Brooke’s always been the apple of her father’s eye.” Nora winks. “Her brother and myself have always tried to keep up with the two of them.”
There’s no anger in her reference for how close her daughter is to her husband—no trace of underlying jealousy at all. I imagine Nora has had years of watching them together and has come to appreciate them as they are.
“If you give Brooke time, as well as her father, they’ll come around.”
“He’s going to be okay then?”
The way Nora had described his heart attack and the coma he fell into after, I hadn’t taken his condition as good.
“He will. He has to wake up for this,” she says.
“For this?”
“Yes, this,” she charges, sitting up and leaning forward. “Decklan has never seen his daughter in love,” she continues with a smile. “And if he hasn’t already heard it in her voice, he will soon.”
Guilt of our situation strikes. Her mom must not have any idea of what’s happened, nor how it’s all about to play out. Which is to say on live television, in front of hundreds of thousands of viewers.
“I need to see her,” I advise. Running my hands through my hair, I feel my body readying to race to wherever Brooke could be. “Do you have any idea where she may have gone?”
“No, I don’t. But I meant what I said. She’ll come around. Be patient.”
Giving her my card first, I stand and she follows, doing the same.
“I’m staying at a hotel in Triade. The name and number of my hotel and cell phone are on the back. I’ll be in town as long as I think Brooke needs me. Tell her that for me, will you?”
“Of course. Anything else?”
Anything else?
Tell her I love her.
Tell her I forgive her for leaving.
Tell her I need her to forgive me when I do the same.
“No, that’s all. Thanks again.”
“Any time, Brock. Good luck.”
Chapter Fifty-Six
Your heart will guide you where you need to be.
Brooke
-
“Finally!” Addie exclaims her relief into the phone. “I haven’t heard from you in a week!” she shrieks next. “Thank God everything is okay so I can forgive you now.”
As I sit on the couch outside Dad’s room, filling her in on his progress, explaining first that thirty minutes ago, he woke up. I wasn’t here when, from out of nowhere, he opened his eyes, but thankfully Mom was. She called me as I was seeing to business at the inn. Mom was beside herself and could hardly speak through her thankful tears.
“So, he’s going to be okay?” Addie probes, her hopes as high as mine.
“The doctor is with him now. So far, all he’s said is that everything looks stable, but Dad still has some ways to go as far as recovery. I’m going in as soon as they’re finished.”
“How’s your mom?”
“Ecstatic. She hasn’t stopped crying, but she’s relieved.”
Addie exhales. “So am I.”
Three days ago, after leaving Brock standing in the living room with my mother, I made my way to the inn. There, I was met with the angry eyes of my brother who tried to get me to call Brock and tell him me leaving was a mistake. I convinced him to let it alone. It took some time, and a few tears on my part, but he finally saw things as I did.
There’s no easy way out of what’s happened. Brock’s destiny has been signed in ink. There are no loopholes to slide his way through. If Matt and Willow hadn’t been as generous and understanding as they were, there wouldn’t have been any for me, either.
“He came to see me at work,” Addie advises quietly. “I was trying to give you space. I didn’t tell or give him anything but your address. He looked so lost and confused.”
“He knows we’re over, Add. I saw him, too.”
An exasperated sigh comes through the line before she says, “You told him you were done?”
“What am I supposed to tell him? I can’t tell him it’s okay for him to be here when he should be home, thinking about who he’ll choose to pick a wife. That’s crazy.”
“Oh, Brooke.”
She sounds as though I’ve let her down. But seriously, what other choice is there? Maybe my forethought into our future is born from self-preservation, or maybe denial, but Addie was there in L.A. with Brock and I. She was witness to what we were doing. There’s no way she didn’t see that what we were doing was wrong.
“I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Sleeping with a man who wasn’t engaged is one thing. Sleeping with one who is—”
“Do you at least know who he chose?” she questions, not caring that I haven’t finished my thought.
When the nurse I’ve come to love steps out of my father’s room and smiles wide, I cut Addie off with, “I have to go. I’ll call or text when I’m finished here.”
“Okay, honey. Tell your dad I’ll come by this week and to get plenty of rest, because I’m bringing the UNO cards. Love you.”
“Thanks, Add. He’ll love that,” I return. “Talk soon.”
The sterile hospital room has more life in it now than I’ve been privy to since this started. As if my father can already tell something’s not right, his head turns and he studies my way from the door.
“Button,” he quietly breathes.
My name spoken in one word—one sentimental word of adoration—relaxes me. I feel the release of my pent-up emotions bursting out everywhere.
Walking toward him at a faster pace, I call out, “Well, thank God you’re finally awake.”
“You have so much to tell me.” He smiles.
No matter the circumstance, this feels no different than any other time I’ve come home with a lot on my mind. In the past, it’s always been Dad who I immediately go in search of to share whatever was happening. He’s my moral compass; my sounding board when all else I tried on my own had failed.
The IV in his hand doesn’t allow me to squeeze it as I’d like to. I hold it steady in mine regardless, and smile down at his tired and broken body with appreciation.
“I’ll leave you two for a few minutes. I need to make some calls and find out where Ashton’s gone,” Mom offers before leaning down over Dad and kissing his cheek like I’ve seen her do a million times.
“You stay in bed. Do what the doctor says, and I’ll be back soon,” she tells him.
“I don’t have anywhere else to go, Nora. I’ll be here.”
“Brooke,” she sternly addresses. “We’ll talk later.”
In a turn, I’ve gone from thankful daughter to scorned child standing in between her parents. Obviously, I’ve got a severe talking to coming. Being as I’m an adult, I’m not afraid of the consequences of my actions.
I’m twenty-six, not twelve.
“We’ll be here.” I smile brightly, hiding my inner thoughts.
Once she’s gone, I turn around and get a better look at Dad. He’s smiling, but it’s for my benefit. His lips are chapped and his skin is pale, but it doesn’t stop his determination to discuss what’s on his mind. I feel parental lecture part one about to play out, and he’s only just woken up.
“You look different, Button,” he tells me f
irst. “I don’t know if you’re happy or sad. Have I been gone so long I can no longer read you like I used to?”
“You haven’t been gone,” I laugh. “You never left. You were resting.” Squeezing his hand tighter than I should, I freely admit, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“You came back,” he observes. “Your mother says you left everything behind in a rush.”
Furrowing my eyebrows, my confusion comes with my response. “Of course I did. You were sick.”
“I was fine.”
Rolling my eyes at his absurdity, I confirm, “Yes, I left. The show was almost finished anyway.”
“And you had fun?”
Now that Dad’s better and the burden of worry has lifted from my shoulders, I pull up a chair and sit next to him. I don’t know where to begin, but now that he’s awake, there will be plenty of time to catch up.
“I had a lot of fun. I met a lot of people and saw a lot of places I wouldn’t have seen if I hadn’t gone.”
Dad moves his hand from mine, but only to aid in sitting up further. The wince of pain strikes his face, and I feel bad for talking so much about myself.
“I’ll come back later. We can catch up then.”
Dad looks to the door, then back to me. “We’ll talk now. Your mother filled me in on all things Brock LaDuece.”
He says his name, which is not only surprising, but the way he said it was sincere.
“She did?”
“Of course she did. She’s concerned.”
Shaking my head, I insist, “She shouldn’t be concerned. No one should. I’m fine.”
Reaching up, Dad pecks my nose with the tip of his finger. My face scrunches. The gesture isn’t meant to make me feel small, but it does.
“I want to know something, Brooke,” he insists. “And I want you to be honest with me, if not yourself.”
“Okay,” I reply meekly.
Dad grabs my hand and looks at me with a serious expression before clearing his throat. “You may not think any of this is my concern, but I can assure you it is.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah,” he answers. “Mom told me Brock came here to see you. Is this right?”
He knows it is. Mom wouldn’t lie about something like that. This is how Dad gets me to talk about things I don’t want to discuss. He makes me own up to every facet of whatever situation I’ve found myself in.
“He’s still here. He’s in Triade.”
“Did you talk to him?”
“Yes.” I briefly told him goodbye, but don’t admit this.
“How did he take the news of you ending things with him?”
“Um...” I trail off, unable to think fast enough. Brock and Mom talked after my mad dash from the house.
“Brooklyn Paige Malloy,” he states sternly. I much prefer Button.
“He told Mom he wasn’t leaving,” I admit. “Then he wanted to know if there was anything he could do.”
“Interesting,” Dad comments. His smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but those same eyes are certainly dancing with humor.
Releasing his hand and sitting back in my chair, I cross my arms over my chest and wait.
“Your mother didn’t tell me everything there was to know, did she?”
That I’ve fallen in love with Brock? No, she must not have mentioned this.
That he’s set to marry someone else because I up and left with good reason? She must’ve left that out, too.
Or, maybe from the moment my dad opened his eyes and I knew he’d be okay, I’ve regretted leaving Brock with my cheap, generic version of goodbye. No, she couldn’t have told him this because I just realized it myself.
“No,” I answer. “I don’t think she filled you in.”
“You know, kiddo, I don’t think there’s ever been a time in your life that I’ve seen you glow,” he notes, to my initial panic.
My first thought at hearing him say ‘glow’ lends itself to pregnancy. However, I’m on birth control, and Brock and I have always used a condom—well, except a few times. The first being the limo, and when he took what I let him have, which he did gloriously. In front of my father, my face heats with remembrance.
Jesus.
“Scared you, didn’t I?” He smirks.
“Noooo,” I draw out for exaggeration. “I’m not pregnant, Dad.”
“Well, thank God for that.”
“Aren’t you tired?” I smart my rhetorical question while pretending to be serious.
Dad laughs. It’s quiet, and his body doesn’t shake with it because of his weakened state.
“When I say you glow, I mean to say I’ve never seen you in love.”
In love.
Am I so transparent?
“Dad, you hardly—”
“Don’t tell a father he doesn’t see what he sees in his children. You’d be wasting your breath. You’ve fallen in love.”
“Things aren’t so simple.”
“They are if you live in the now, sweetheart. And even though I’m so happy to see your bright face again, I’d be happier if you’d go share your time with a man who cared enough to travel the country to ensure my daughter was okay.”
Tears well in my eyes. I know where Brock is. I also know if I went to him, told him how I felt, we’d be no better off than we are now. Eventually, he’ll leave me, go back to L.A., get married, and live his life. I’ll be left here alone, trying to pick up the pieces of whatever we’ve lost.
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“It’s not,” Dad convincingly admits. “But me, all but putting you on that plane myself didn’t feel like such a good idea either. I’ve been worried sick.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, Button.” He smiles. “There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I wanted you to live and you have. You still would be if I wasn’t stuck in here. Go to him, Brooke. Talk to the man. I’d like to meet him, if that’s possible.”
“You’d like to meet him?”
Dad’s eyebrows furrow this time. “Well, of course I would. Your mother and I both.”
Oh God.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I tell him. “Addie’s coming by this week. She told me to tell you to rest because she’s busting out the UNO cards.”
My dad, clearly not accepting the subject change, instructs, “I’ll rest once you’re on your way to where you already know you should be. Give your father a hug, and go do exactly as he’s told you.”
With a faint smile, I do as he’s asked, all while thinking how annoying it is that Brock and my dad are just as bossy as the other.
Chapter Fifty-Seven
Fate is the mother of all evil.
Brock
-
“No, I think I’ll stick around here for a few more days.” I’m explaining this to Drew as I sit in my hotel room, drinking another beer, and wondering who the hell I’m sticking around for.
With no word from Brooke in three days, my patience is waning. Even with her reaction as I showed up at her house, I still left with hope. Nora Malloy is in part how Addie described her—quietly reserved and partially uptight. However, not exactly the way I initially thought. The woman is a mother who loves her children, wants what’s best for them, even if they can’t see what’s best for themselves. The way she insisted Brooke would come around eventually said a lot about their relationship. She was certain it would happen. So, rather than catch a plane the next morning, I’ve decided to give her a few more days.
Unfortunately, that’s all I can afford her because I’m running out of time.
“Fuck, Brock. But really? Why the hell does it have to be Kylee?” he snaps.
When I broke the news to my friends that the audience poll was now official, and the announcement of my future bride would be aired in a few days, I thought Drew was going to get sick. We were all sitting around Drew’s living room table, trying to think of what I could say to Brooke to change her mind once I got here.
Until now, both my
friends have been supportive, but eventually their support won’t be enough to shield me from my impending future.
“Yeah. Still don’t have your head around it either, do you?”
“No,” he sighs. “That she-dog is easy on the eyes, sure, but damn, I bet she breathes fire.”
This, I agree with. She’s a fire-breathing, man-eating bitch. And this is my future wife I’m describing. I don’t foresee good things to come, as I don’t expect her to change.
“Your dad hasn’t found anything that could help?”
“Nope. Not yet.”
When my dad called earlier and advised me that Darrin had hit a wall in finding anything pertinent which could get me out of this, I wanted to throw my phone to the floor and stomp on it like a child. The defeat in his voice in telling me he had nothing mirrored mine as I thanked him again for trying.
Before letting me off the phone, he wanted to know if I thought Matt or Willow knew of any name Kylee may have used in the past. When I told him I had no clue, he then admitted that pushing me to marry wasn’t the best parental decision he’s ever made. I didn’t agree and still don’t. If it hadn’t been for his interference, I wouldn’t have met Brooke.
“Should I fly back out to L.A. for the finale?” Drew inquires. “Nick said he wants to take the week off so we can be there to wish you well.”
“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll be back in Dallas as soon as it’s over. I’ll see you guys then.”
I haven’t spoken to Kylee about where we’ll live. As far as I’m concerned, there’s no reason for her to come to Dallas. Our marriage is only temporary. Even if I have to live in misery with the press until the divorce is final, it’ll be worth it not to have her near my family, in my house, or in my bed.
“If there’s anything I can do, Brock. Me or Nick, you say the word.”
“No more fuckin’ poker parties, asshat.”
Drew laughs. “Right. Definitely not. No more dares, either,” he agrees, just as room service knocks on my door.
“Gotta eat. I’ll call you if something changes.”
“Hope it does, ’cause seriously, Kylee?”
“Asshat,” I mumble, disconnecting and tossing my phone to the table.
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