Brooke swallowed. His emotional pain was on his face. Now she knew how Shane felt reading people. It wasn’t fun at all. Ignorance really was bliss.
“I don’t know yet. I’m scheduled for surgery next week. My doctor wants to do a open biopsy and remove the whole lump…and anything else she finds that doesn’t look right while they’re in there. The release form I signed was rather inclusive about permission.”
Drake felt his head spin in reaction. Time stopped and reversed itself. The cycle of pain was repeating and there didn’t seem to be a damn thing he could do to stop it from happening. His nemesis was taking away another woman he loved.
Drake stared at his desk as he rubbed his forehead. “It will take a couple weeks after the surgery to get a real answer from the doctors about what they find.”
Brooke nodded, even though he wasn’t looking at her. “Yes. So they said.”
She cleared her throat and tried to explain, hoping it would normalize the tension.
“I told Mom yesterday afternoon. I went back there to see her after you dropped me off. You’re only the second person I’ve told. Frankly, I haven’t wanted to talk about it too much. Things between us were so new and I…well I…I didn’t want anything to ruin our time together.”
“But you knew Friday night when we were together?”
“Well, yes…I did…but I…I hadn’t even told my mother then. I was having trouble telling her too.”
Drake rose and paced to a window. He needed to find some calm. He needed not to yell, not to rant and rave at Brooke for something she couldn’t help. His reaction was not her greatest problem. All too soon she might be fighting for her life. And worse…he would have to watch.
“I guess that means you knew last night too,” Drake said.
Brooke stared, blinking several times. Even after all the possible reactions she had imagined, the reality was vastly different. Drake was so unemotional about her revelation. There was no sympathy…no denial…no protesting. Instead, he was cold and distant. His questions were more like accusations than genuine queries.
He was angry with her…that much was obvious even though it didn’t find expression. His back was turned away. He wouldn’t look at her.
She hadn’t known how bad it was going to hurt her for Drake not to rant and rave on her behalf. She shuddered thinking how badly it would have destroyed last night. At least she’d followed her instincts and would have that good memory.
She didn’t blame Drake a bit for not wanting to be emotionally involved…but she had hoped he would find it in himself to be something other than stoic about it.
When he finally turned from the window to look at her, a much larger lump formed in her belly. Dread filled up all the space around it. She saw no teasing and no love in the gaze turned on her. All she saw was painful concern. And like she’d feared…she wasn’t really ready to handle it.
“Have you known about the lump the whole time we’ve been together? I wish you had told me before we got involved.”
Brooke swallowed the hurt his words caused. “I suppose you could say I’ve known the whole time. I knew I had the lump, but the doctor…the decision to operate…was only made a couple weeks ago. I’ve had lumps before, but not like this one. I wasn’t trying to be unfair. I was just trying to make the best of our…time together.”
“I see. What made you decide to finally tell me today? You asked me all those questions about Tracy last night. Why didn’t you just tell me then?”
Brooke thought of a hundred excuses, but went with gut honesty. “Like I said when I started this discussion…I was afraid it would change things between us and I wasn’t ready to face the change.”
“Cancer always changes things—that’s just a fact. It’s not something you can avoid by thinking your way out of it, Dr. Daniels,” Drake said, fighting the meltdown he felt looming.
“Look Drake…” Brooke hesitated when his pain-filled gaze bore into hers.
His face was flushed. He was rubbing his chest with his hand. She couldn’t watch him suffer over her. It would take her down too.
“Don’t bury me yet, Dr. Barrymore. No one has said the lump was cancer. Besides—that wasn’t the only thing I came here to tell you today. The other is actually more unpleasant. I couldn’t say it last night either.”
Drake snorted. “Really? I’m not sure I want to hear anything else. What could possibly be worse than telling me you found a lump in your breast that might be cancer?”
Brooke stood and lifted her chin. How many times had she watched her mother break up with men? And how many times had she practiced the same blunt honesty techniques on the college boys she’d dated and decided weren’t for her?
Her technique was always one hundred percent effective, but it required her to have the right tone of sincerity in the delivery. That was going to be the hardest part of what had to be done. But she was absolutely convinced it would spare both of them a lot of heartache.
“Look Drake…as you can imagine…finding the lump scared me. Your interest in me gave me a perfect distraction from the shock when I needed it most. All that talk about falling in love last night…well, I realized this morning…it was just a means of coping for me. I will always be grateful for our time together, but I’ve decided our relationship was born out of my desperation, not from something meant to last. To put it bluntly…I’ve been using you to escape my problems. I don’t want to continue.”
Brooke shook her head, swallowed, and rubbed her own chest. The words were hard, but once the speech was started—it had to be finished.
“I don’t think we should see each other anymore…as lovers that is. I like you and consider us friends. That’s why I made you promise me all those things last night. One day you’ll be glad we never got any more serious than we did. Mom or Carrie can keep you informed if you want to know how it all turns out for me.”
Brooke rose, turned away from him, and headed to his office door. She caught herself moving slowly. Was she waiting for him to stop her…to argue…to protest her departure in some way?
When she swung the door open to leave, she paused once more, but there wasn’t any movement behind her.
Not looking back to see how Drake had taken their breakup, Brooke shook her head and walked away as fast as she could.
Chapter 14
She had replayed Drake’s stoicism about a zillion times and the devastated look on his face when he’d turned from the window to face her. She knew the two things didn’t match up, but it was a puzzle she had no business trying to solve now.
However, the torture of breaking up with Drake was nothing compared to being descended upon by the Larson men with her mother in tow. It was early evening after the eventful day. Apparently the gossip mill had churned at light speed to get the word out that she’d broken things off with Drake. Now the five of them all sat in her tiny, more-claustrophic-than-ever living room on what had to be the most uncomfortable furniture on the planet.
Except for Will—he had nabbed her desk chair when he realized pacing wasn’t an option in the space.
“Shane, are you emotionally attached to this furniture? It’s terrible. I’d really like to replace it.”
“No—do what you want with the furniture. I am emotionally attached to you though. Talk to us, Brooke. We’re your family,” Shane said.
Brooke snorted. “Barely family…and that label seems to only count when you all think I’ve done something wrong…which I would like to point out is just your opinion of the matter. If you want to be concerned about someone, why don’t you ask me how I’m coping?”
She winced when Michael reached out and pinched her arm. “Ouch. Damn it. That hurt.” She landed a hard punch on Michael’s arm in return, but it only bounced off muscles honed from pounding metal. Now her hand stung too. She was getting more and more pissed at her frowning, meddling stepbrothers.
“When you get your shit straight, you’re going to regret what you did today,” Michael decl
ared. “I got damn lucky with Carrie. I’m not going to watch you screw up your life and not say anything. I don’t do that anymore.”
“Who says I’m screwing up my life?” Brooke demanded.
“Shut up, Michael. No one is saying that, Brooke,” Shane said, trying to keep his voice soft. “We’re suggesting you might not be thinking clearly under the circumstances. Your thinking might not be completely rational right now.”
“What the hell is wrong with you two? I’m not dead…or dying yet. I found a lump. I’ve found them before. No one came to my house the other times and jumped my ass. Why is everyone determined to consign me to a fate that has not been decided?”
Jessica sighed. “No one is doing that, Brooke. We’re just concerned that you broke it off with Drake prematurely. And we’re worried about him as much as we are about you. Brandon called Chelsea so she could tell Shane how bad it was. It was obvious the boy was hoping we would talk to you about it…” She paused to sigh again. “Brooke, Brandon said Drake’s not handling this well.”
Brooke shook her head. “Drake is going to be fine. I admit it was bad timing on my part to tell him about the lump and break up with him during the same conversation. But frankly, I’ve got enough to worry about without worrying about Drake. I’m not the man’s problem. Ergo, the man is not mine. Pure easy-to-grasp logic that even hard-headed Larsons should be able to grasp.”
“Pure bullshit you mean,” Michael declared, crossing his arms to glare. “Do you not have any sympathy at all for him?”
“Of course I have sympathy for him. Why the hell do you think I—?” Brooke stopped, rose, and paced. She was shocked by what she’d almost admitted. “If this lump is cancer, I’m going to need to worry about myself…not about how Drake Barrymore is handling it. I know he’s probably a little hurt right now, but he’ll get over me. I should never have told him I was falling for him. I knew from the beginning it was a bad idea to get involved with the man. We just…we don’t fit well. It was never going to work out.”
“That’s not what the rest of us have been seeing between you. It’s not what Brandon or Chelsea have observed either. What wasn’t working between you? Was your age difference an issue?”
Brooke gave Shane her best go-to-hell look. “I can’t believe you’d have the nerve to ask that question after marrying someone so much older than you.”
“I have all kinds of nerve, but this isn’t about me. I’m not the one who broke up with the love of my life just before having some scary-ass surgery.”
“I hope like hell you never hang out a shingle…”
“Brooke Renee Daniels…stop throwing insults. It is not helping.”
Brooke gave her mother the same look she gave Shane. “Did I ask you all to come here and harass me? No—I did not. Well, let me tell you something…you four carried your guilt trips all the way over here for nothing. I have no regrets about breaking up with Drake. It felt right at the time, and I would do it again.”
“No one is suggesting you get back together with him.”
Will’s quiet statement had Brooke rubbing her nose. “Really? What are you expecting from me then?”
Will sighed. “Talk to Drake. Talking seems like the least you can do for someone you cared enough to have slept with all these weeks. Anyone with eyes could see you two really liked each other. Maybe you weren’t serious about what was happening between you, but apparently Drake was. Talking to him wouldn’t kill you, but your guilt might.”
Brooke raked her fingers through her hair, yanking out tangles as she went. “Getting involved again will only make things worse.”
Will rose and walked to the woman who didn’t realize she was as bad off as the man who loved her was.
“Maybe it will or maybe it won’t. At least you have all of us to lean on if it doesn’t help. We’ll be there when you go into surgery, when you come out, and when you get the news—no matter what the news brings. All Drake has is a teenage boy to lean on, who’s already had to be far more mature than someone his age should ever have to be.”
Brooke groaned and leaned her forehead on her kind, responsible stepfather’s broad chest. “Oh God…a Brandon guilt trip too? Now you all want me to worry about Drake and his son?”
Will rubbed her back and smiled. “You’re already worried about them, honey. We just want you to do something about those feelings. We’ve come to help you be brave.”
“Brave?” Brooke pushed away and glared at everyone staring at her. Then she turned to her mother. “You chose now to give me a meddling family?”
“Yes, but it could have been worse. At least I waited past your teenage years.”
At her mother’s soft smile and shrug, Brooke rolled her eyes.
Turning away from their hopeful gazes on her, she rubbed her eyes and moaned.
“Okay. I’ll go talk to Drake…and I’ll check on Brandon. Tell Chelsea to stop worrying.”
***
Brandon’s relieved smile and hug when he opened the door and saw her did more to make Brooke feel bad than anything her mother or any Larson male had said to her. She barely stifled her surprise when the boy took her by the hand and starting leading her to his father’s studio.
Brooke sighed and tugged him into stopping. He dropped her hand and stood still.
“Brandon…wait…before we go in there, you might want to find something to do outside the house for an hour or two. I can’t promise you things won’t get ugly between me and your father. He might be upset at me for…”
“Dad’s not in there. He’s passed out in his room. The cognac bottle is by the bed and nearly empty. Based on his usual lack of tolerance, he’s not going to be waking up until tomorrow sometime. I’m taking you to Dad’s studio because I want to show you something.”
Brooke hung her head and studied the floor before finally raising her gaze. “Okay. I’m sorry, Brandon. I never meant any of this to happen to you or Drake. I thought your father would get angry with how I had treated him, and then he’d get over me. Every other time I’ve broken up with a guy that’s exactly what has happened.”
“My Dad is not like other guys. Do you really have a lump in your breast?”
Brooke nodded. “Yes…I do. But that’s all I have. I’m having it removed next week to see what’s going on. I just…can you see I was trying not to put him through hell again?”
“Yes,” Brandon said firmly, picking up her hand. “Dad knows that too. He’s just working through his reaction.”
“Will was so right about you,” Brooke declared, squeezing his fingers.
“Mr. Larson? He was my principal. What did he say about me?”
“That you were more mature than you should be. Next time you go to a drunken frat party, I hope it’s just to hang out. You deserve a chance to be a kid.”
Brandon shrugged and snorted at her concern. “Oh, I get to be a kid plenty. And I’m not really worried about Dad pulling it together. I know he will. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“Me?”
“Yes. Because I don’t think you understand my Dad, and I think it’s important you do.”
Brooke sighed as Brandon dropped her hand and walked to an enormous stack of wrapped paintings. They looked ready to be shipped off somewhere. He looked over the stack next to it and then shifted a few around. He pulled a couple out and motioned her over.
On the first portrait, an emaciated woman hugged her knees. Her hair was sparse and scalp showed through the remaining strands. Wrinkles and lines adorned her neck. Her cheeks were sunken.
Brooke’s lips firmed and thinned. She blinked the hotness from her eyes.
“Dad painted over sixty of these. They show every step of Mom’s disintegration. Some are not quite this horrible. Some are worse. After she died, I used to come in here when I got home from school and go through them. They reminded me she was better off dead than living this way and being in constant pain. It helped me not to miss her so much.”
Brooke’s bottom
lip quivered. “I…don’t know what to say.”
Brandon shrugged. “There’s nothing to say. I just wanted you to see…and to maybe understand. Dad felt ravaged by every moment of Mom’s illness as much as she did. That’s why she allowed him to paint her at every horrible stage. I’ve come to see the paintings were Dad’s way of sharing Mom’s suffering. He’s never sold these. He’s only ever sold the beautiful ones of her. I think that’s his way of honoring her memory best.”
Hot tears leaked down her face. Brooke used both hands to dash them away. “This is worse than I ever imagined.”
Brandon shook his head. “No. Actually, it’s better than I can explain. Maybe better than Dad can.” His hand swept to the paintings. “This was my mother’s reality. Her fate was not to beat the thing that took her from the world.”
She watched Brandon sift through the paintings until he pulled out another. He put it in front of the emaciated painting. The woman was beautiful. She reclined on a red couch, her smile brilliant as she glanced over her shoulder at the artist.
Brooke tore her eyes from the woman to look at the woman’s son.
“This is my mother too. This is how beautiful she was…how full of life. This is the gift Dad gave me…gave the world. Whoever buys these paintings keeps my mother alive for the world to know she once lived and was full of this kind of love.”
“Brandon…” Brooke raised a hand to her mouth, to stifle her sobs. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry now for all the narrow-minded thoughts I had about your father’s art. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
“I’m not done…there’s one more you really need to see.”
Brooke watched him walk to an easel. She started forward when he motioned to her.
“It’s still a work in progress. Dad’s just started covering the drawing in paint. Come look.”
Feeling numb, Brooke rubbed at her eyes again, sniffling back tears as she shuffled her feet. Finally, she stood by his side. Her gasp was audible in the room.
Covered In Paint: Book Five of the Art Of Love Series Page 14