“I know about regrets, Rissa, how they eat at you and leave you raw. Letting go of them is sometimes the hardest thing to do.” Logan thought about his own. He still hadn't found a way to let them go. “Thank you for telling me all of this. I know it wasn't easy for you.”
“I just need for you to know that I'm sorry.” She sighed heavily.
“I know you are, and it's okay. I'm not angry with you, if that's what you're asking.” He managed a half-smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.
“I wouldn't blame you if you were,” she responded.
“Let's not think about that anymore.”
She walked into his arms for a hug. He held her close. “You're like a sister to me, Rissa,” he said. “I could never stay angry with you.” He meant it. Letting her go, he cleared his throat. “Ah, did Brooke run into town or something? I noticed her car isn't here. I was hoping to see her.” Karissa looked at him apologetically. “What? What is it?” he wanted to know.
“Brooke's gone,” she said. “She went home, to California.”
She saw the surprise, and then the alarm, in his eyes. “When?” he asked, his voice low.
“She left two days ago,” Karissa told him. “I talked to her last night. She had just gotten home.”
He took a minute to digest this news. “How did she sound? Did she seem okay?”
“No, not at all,” she said. When she saw the concern in his eyes, she quickly added, “She's been through a lot, both of you have. Healing takes time.”
He supposed she was right about that. Healing did take time. He knew that first-hand. Unfortunately, though, sometimes when your heart's been broken badly enough, it never completely heals. Not all the way. Logan blew out a breath as he ran a hand through his hair. So, she'd run again. Why was she always running away from their problems instead of facing them head on? Wasn't he at least worth the fight? he wondered.
The California sun was merciless. It beat down with a vengeance on the Pacific coast, bringing with it a stifling heat. As day gave way to evening, the golden glow ebbed away gradually, and a cool breeze swept through the air. It felt wonderful.
Brooke had spent the past few days cooped up inside trying to avoid the suffocating heat. She'd only ventured out in the evenings for her run, followed by her swim, and to relax out on the patio. The heat hadn't afforded her much time for the first two before night settled in. Tonight she'd decided to forego her run and her swim. Ashley had dropped by under the guise of missing her and wanting to visit. Brooke knew her friend had simply wanted to check up on her, to make sure she was alright.
Brooke had phoned Ashley the night she'd made it in from Montana, and Ashley had rushed right over to see her. But Brooke had put her off the past couple of days, wanting, needing, to spend time alone. She hadn't been in the mood to socialize, not even with Ashley. And that was how depressed she'd been. Ashley wasn't taking no for an answer tonight, though.
She'd insisted on bringing dinner, Chinese takeout, which was one of Brooke's occasional indulgences. And wine. So they'd enjoyed a nice dinner on the patio with some wine and music, and as much conversation as Brooke could manage. Brooke's appetite wasn't at its best, but she'd managed to eat half of her meal, so that was something. She'd had only one glass of wine, and when Ashley half-filled their glasses again, she'd let hers sit. She wasn't much of a drinker under the most normal of circumstances.
Brooke pushed the food around on her plate with her fork, thinking of what she planned to do the next day. It would be Sunday, a perfect lazy day, like most of her days had been recently, she realized, for going through some stuff around the house. She'd wanted to tackle it for quite some time, but never seemed to fit it into her busy schedule.
She still had a week and a half before she had to go back to work, and she planned to use the time constructively. No more crying, no more moping around feeling sorry for herself. But that was easier said than done. The distraction of keeping busy around her pretty little house would help with that. She'd zoned out, she realized, when Ashley called her name, waving a hand in front of her face.
“You back?” she asked jokingly, when Brooke directed her gaze toward her.
Brooke forced a smile. “Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking.”
“About you-know-who?” she asked, not wanting to use the L word. She'd made that mistake once, the night she'd come over to see Brooke when she'd gotten back from Montana, and Ashley wasn't about to do it again. Brooke had burst into tears, followed by a bout of uncontrollable sobbing, which ended with some soothing on Ashley's part, and mint chocolate chip ice cream for both of them. All of it.
Brooke shook her head. “No, not in about 10 minutes or so,” she said, with a half laugh that didn't really reach her eyes. “You know, it's funny how I went back to Montana thinking that I would simply avoid Logan, but that didn't work out so well. Then I figured I'd make it through any encounters I may have had with him, because he didn't mean anything to me, he didn't matter. So it wouldn't matter. But then it seemed as if fate was just pushing us together. Before I knew it, I found myself hoping that I would run into him, and then being hugely disappointed if I didn't. That's when I knew,” she said, and rubbed her hands up and down her arms, as if for comfort.
“When you knew what, exactly?”
“That I was falling.” The words sounded strange, even to her own ears. “He told me he loved me. He said the words because he wanted me to know exactly how he felt. But I didn't say them back. I couldn't. Because if I did, it would make my feelings real. And I was terrified that if I told him that I loved him back, then it would give him the power to hurt me. And I never want to hurt like that again. Never.” Her voice was wrought with tension.
Ashley laid her hand over Brooke's and squeezed. She knew that Brooke needed to talk, so she would just listen.
“I was thinking about getting some stuff done around here tomorrow. Things I've put off much too long. That should keep me busy for most of the day. Oh, and I'm going to start reading your new book. Thanks for the advanced copy,” she said, running a finger over the vibrant colors. “I absolutely love this cover,” Brooke went on, “It's gorgeous.”
“Thanks, I'm rather partial to it myself,” Ashley said, her painted lips curved into a smile. “You know, the book tour is coming up next week and I'll be away for a little bit. And you'll be going back to work soon,” she added. “Why don't we take a mini-vacation, you know, to.....” she trailed off. “I don't know, anyplace. Anywhere you want to go. It'll be great for you,” Ashley said, in her most persuasive voice.
Brooke just looked at her, blankly. “I can't, Ash,” she said. “I really can't. I just came home from Montana after two and a half months. I haven't even settled back in yet. Besides, I'd be terrible company for you, trust me.”
“Come on,” she insisted. “It'll be fun. Pretty please.” she said, getting up from the table and moving to one of the chaise lounges where she could stretch out.
When Brooke only smiled and shook her head, Ashley threw her hands up in the air, a row of glittery bracelets jingling at her wrist. “Okay, fine,” she said, pretending to sulk. Brooke laughed at Ashley's feigned dramatics. “Well, at least come sit with me and relax,” Ashley said. “We can pretend we're in some exotic place where all the men are gorgeous and have mysterious accents and naturally, are mesmerized by our beauty.” Brooke laughed at her friend's imagination. That's why she's the writer, Brooke thought.
Brooke stood, her chair scraping the brick of the patio as she pushed it backward. About to join Ashley on one of the chaise lounges, she caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and turned her head in the direction of the patio's edge. The surprise showed all over her pretty face. Her initial thought was that she'd had too much wine. But one glass of wine wasn't likely to make her hallucinate, she knew. She didn't say a word, she couldn't. She simply stared.
Logan stood near the edge of the patio, next to her pretty garden, watching her. The sweet scent of jasmine
filled the air and it reminded him of Brooke. And there she was, he thought, larger than life, standing only a short distance away. He was nervous, he realized, and unsure of what to say. There were so many thoughts running through his mind, so many feelings bottled up inside him.
Karissa had given him Brooke's address, and had promised to keep it on the down-low. He'd taken a direct flight out of Missoula that afternoon, and then rented a car at LAX. When he'd pulled into the front drive of Brooke's pretty two-story home, there had been two cars in the driveway, Brooke's and another, a sporty model. He had no idea who it belonged to.
He'd knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. He knew she had to be home. He walked the path around the side of the house, and that's when he'd heard it. Music, soft, yet unmistakeable. And the sound of Brooke's voice. He'd followed that sound, and it led him to where he stood now. One look at the glass table told him she wasn't alone. The evidence of a shared meal still graced the table, with two half-filled glasses of wine.
Logan had begun to feel uneasy. The dinner and wine, the music, the strange car in the driveway. He didn't see anyone else, but he'd heard Brooke talking. Apparently someone was there. Was she entertaining? Was she with another man? His mind entertained a dozen crazy scenarios as he watched her, and she stood there, looking at him in surprise. I'll bet she's surprised, he thought, his mood darkening miserably.
The sudden movement to his right had him whipping his head around to see Ashley, getting up from one of several chaise lounges that were strewn about the patio. She glanced at Brooke and caught the bewildered expression that crossed her friend's face. Turning her head to look, she caught sight of Logan. She shrieked, and ran to him, laughing and throwing herself into his arms at the same time. She caught him off guard, and he nearly stumbled backward. He hugged her back before setting her back on her feet.
“Sorry,” Ashley murmured. “I realize that such a dramatic greeting should have been Brooke's, but she appears to be a little dumbstruck at the moment. It's so great to see you.”
“It's good to see you too, Ash.”
“Hi,” he said to Brooke when she'd made her way around the table. His voice was low, hesitant.
“Hi,” she offered back.
Ashley kissed Logan's cheek, then walked over to Brooke, kissing hers in turn, and snatched up her purse from a nearby chair.
“I'm just gonna go,” she said, walking around Logan toward the side of the house. She gave Brooke two thumbs-up behind his back as she went. “Night you two,” she called out as she disappeared out of sight. Neither of them said a word.
Brooke slowly made her way toward Logan, stopping directly in front of him. She stood there, uncertain of what to do. She knew what she wanted to do, but how he would feel about that remained a mystery to her at that moment. So she waited. She wasn't sure why he was here. Had he come to talk to her about things? Surely he could have accomplished that with a phone call. Or had he come for some other reason? He'd traveled a good distance to California, so obviously it was important. God, she hated feeling so confused.
As quick as a lightning strike, Logan snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her toward him. He kissed her, long and deep, until Brooke could no longer think, until her mind went numb and her senses reeled.
She kissed him back, her mouth demanding more, her body molding itself to his as they shared this perfect moment of intimacy, like in those old movies she used to watch with her mother when she was a kid.
When Logan pulled back and lifted her chin in his hand, her eyes were filled with emotion, the kind that jabbed him right in the heart.
“I love you,” he murmured, his eyes an intense green as he watched the smile flit over her beautiful face. “I love you so much it hurts.”
“That must be an awfully lot,” she teased. When he laughed, deep and male, she launched herself into his arms, thrilled at the way he held onto her, like he would never let her go. “I love you, Logan, more than you could ever imagine,” she breathed. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “So sorry.”
“I'm sorry, too,” he told her. “Sorry that I blamed you, when in reality it was my fault, too.”
When she looked at him, quizzically, he continued. “You were right. If I hadn't cheated, we never would have broken up. You wouldn't have moved to California. You wouldn't have been alone and pregnant. You wouldn't have had all of the stress, emotionally and physically. I caused that stress. Me. Maybe you wouldn't have gone into premature labor. And maybe our baby wouldn't have died,” he finished, with a hitch in his voice.
“That's a lot of maybe's, Logan. Don't do that to yourself. Don't take the weight of it all on your shoulders. You'll go crazy if you do. Even without the stress factor, I may still have had complications. Who knows? I was wrong to say what I did that night at my parents' house. I was wrong, and I'm sorry. I didn't mean it, any of it. It was me being defensive because I knew that I was wrong not to tell you about the baby from the moment I first learned that I was pregnant. I just want you to know that I didn't keep it from you to hurt you. I just couldn't tell you in the beginning. It was too much. I was going through the absolute worst pain of my life, and I was trying to deal with that. I couldn't even function. And as time went on, it became harder to tell you. And when I lost the baby, and I was trying to deal with that horrible, raging grief, I just couldn't. And in my mind I justified not telling you for those reasons. I wanted to spare you that grief. The baby was gone, and there was nothing anyone could do to bring her back. Why should you have the burden of that grief, like I did? I wouldn't wish that on anyone. But I know that it was wrong, and that you had a right to know. There was no excuse for me not telling you. None. I hope that in time you'll be able to forgive me. I hate knowing that you feel resentment toward me because of what I did. But I don't blame you. I don't.” She took a deep breath.
“It's all I've been able to think about for the past week or so. I hate that you kept something so vital from me. Brooke, we made a baby. A baby that was the product of our love, and our passion. You know me, Brooke. You know that I would have wanted our baby, that I would have loved her. Before you came home to Montana, I used to think about what could have been. If none of it had ever happened, we would have stayed in Massachusetts, at least until we were both finished with school. We would have been together and everything would have been perfect. Factor in the baby. You would have gone through the pregnancy, and you would have given birth to our daughter. I would have been there with you, through it all. We would have had a beautiful little girl who we would have loved and adored. But we would have been together, Brooke, and we would have been happy. We had dreams. We had a lifetime planned. And then it all went to hell. And I take full responsibility for that. Even now, all these years later, I still can't believe that I did what I did. That's not me, Brooke. I'm not that type of person. I never meant to hurt you. I hope you believe that. And I hope that you can forgive me one day. All I know is that I love you, Brooke. I love you more than it should even be possible for a man to love a woman. I'm not saying that I'm not hurt over you keeping the baby from me, because I am. And I'm still angry. But I'll find a way to deal with it. I don't want it to come between us, and I love you enough not to let it. I can't bear the thought of losing you again. I can't.” His voice broke, and he tried to swallow past the lump in his throat.
Brooke cried fresh tears, and attempted to combat the overwhelming sense of guilt and regret that she felt. “I can't bear the thought of losing you again, either,” she whispered. “I couldn't survive it a second time.” He touched a hand to her cheek, and she covered it with her own, turning into it.
“I'm glad you gave the baby my name. That means something to me,” he said.
“It couldn't have been any other way.” She meant it with all her heart.
“When?” Logan wanted to know. “When was she born?”
“November, the twenty-third. She would be eight years old this fall.” She blinked, and a single tear slid do
wn her cheek. Logan brushed it away with the pad of his thumb. “She died the same day.” Her voice was barely a whisper. He touched his forehead to hers.
“It seems like all I've been doing lately is wiping girl tears,” he said jokingly. “First Rissa, then your mom, now you. I don't think I can take it anymore.” He smiled when she looked at him, puzzled.
“When I went to your parents' place to see you yesterday, I ran into Rissa,” he explained. “She told me about the baby, Brooke. The whole story. I needed to know, and Rissa didn't think you'd be able to talk about it, not in detail. I hope you're not upset about that,” he finished.
She shook her head, the sadness in her eyes piercing his heart. “It's okay. I'm glad she told you. At least now you know,” she said softly. “Did you say that my mom cried all over you?” she wanted to know.
“A little, but I got through it. Barely.” She couldn't help but laugh at the pained look on his face.
A big ball of fur came bounding out of the house on legs that couldn't carry it fast enough, nearly knocking them down like bowling pins. Logan knelt down to greet Xena, who circled around him excitedly, licking his chin. He laughed and rubbed her soft yellow fur.
“Look at you, getting to be such a big girl.” His reaction to Xena melted Brooke's heart. She loved that he would make such a fuss over her fur baby. Their fur baby, she corrected herself. “I was afraid she would have forgotten me by now,” he said, smiling up at Brooke.
“Forget you? Impossible,” Brooke said. Xena padded over to a cushy chair and jumped up, curling into a ball. She rested her head on her front paws and with a loud sigh, closed her eyes. “She gives the expression “It's a dog's life” a whole new meaning.” Brooke smiled and shook her head.
Second Chance at Love (The MacKenna Born & Bred Trilogy) Page 19