Brooke crossed her arms in front of her, suddenly cold. “What’s the point? He’s probably passed out in an alley somewhere.” She’d text him and tell him they were done. His grandmother came to the salon frequently. Ugh, hopefully Larry would keep his failed relationship to himself. She sure didn’t need everyone gossiping about it. “I wish I hadn’t even gone inside. But it was getting dark, and I figured it was better than sitting in the truck in the parking lot by myself.”
Chess stood from the couch and retrieved the afghan draped over a nearby chair. He carefully spread it out over her lap before he disappeared into the kitchen. Brooke heard him rummaging in the freezer. Moments later, he returned with ice wrapped in a towel and sat down on the coffee table facing her, his knees on either side of hers. He reached over and held the cooling towel to her cheek.
His thoughtfulness nearly brought another round of tears. She pulled the soft edge of the afghan up to her chest and welcomed the warmth it provided. Then she reached up to cover his hand with her own. The contact resulted in tingles dancing across the surface of her skin. He kept his hand there a moment before withdrawing and leaving her to hold the ice. He moved to sit next to her on the couch again.
Brooke had prepared for the lecture she was sure Chess would give her. Instead, he was showing nothing but concern and that warmed her more than the blanket. What she needed, though, was for someone who cared to hold her. Every inch of her needed Chess to gather her into his arms and make her feel safe. Did she dare? She closed her eyes and leaned against him. She hadn’t known what to expect, but when he lifted his arm and placed it around her shoulders, drawing her closer to him, a contented sigh escaped her lips.
“Thanks, Chess. For picking me up, for the ice, for the blanket.” She paused. “For being here.”
He didn’t respond for several heartbeats. “You’re welcome. I’m sorry this happened to you.”
All she could do was shrug. She wanted to stay there in his arms indefinitely, but that was probably a terrible idea. The way her heart was pounding confirmed that fact. This would only make stepping back and going to their normal relationship tomorrow that much harder. “I’m okay.” She made herself sit up straight again. “I think I want to take a shower to get the cigarette smoke off me and go to bed.”
The concern in his eyes shifted to uncertainty. “Are you sure? I can stay for a while if you want.”
Her heart begged her to say yes, but she shook her head. “Really, I’m fine. I need some rest and to pretend like tonight didn’t happen.” Well, except for how sweet he’d been. It was almost worth dealing with Larry earlier. Brooke stood then and Chess followed suit.
“You’ll call if you need anything?”
She nodded.
“Promise?”
“I promise.” She brought the ice pack down but kept it in her hand.
They walked to the front door together. Chess opened it but turned to Brooke again. He took her hand in his and gently raised it, along with the ice, back up to her face. “Keep it on there for a little while longer. It’ll keep the swelling down.” His hand lingered on hers for a moment before he pivoted and walked through the door. “Make sure you lock this behind me.”
Brooke gave him what she hoped was a reassuring smile and waved before doing exactly as he’d asked. She leaned against it and let her eyes drift shut. She could still smell the spice from Chess’s aftershave and feel the warmth of his arms around her.
Her heart pounded, and she released a slow breath. “Thank you, Lord, for protecting me. For keeping me safe. And for sending Chess to help me.” She let her head fall back against the door several times. “Please help me to let go of these feelings I have for him. I think part of me has been hoping that one day, he’ll see me differently. But I can’t keep…” Tears clogged her throat.
With a frustrated shake of her head, she pushed away from the door. It was time to take a shower and try to wash away the memories of today.
Chapter Five
All day Friday, Chess couldn’t get the sight of Brooke and the mark on her face out of his head. He could still feel her in his arms, vulnerable and yet strong at the same time. Holding her had probably been a mistake. But she’d needed someone and for once, it was him. It’d felt good to be there for her.
He despised what happened to her though. He still seethed about what Larry had done. If he knew where to find the guy… Brooke had wanted him to go last night, but he’d spent then and all day worrying about her and wondering if she was doing okay.
The day dragged until that evening when Chess ushered Brooke into his house for dinner like they’d arranged earlier in the week. She insisted on bringing the food, and he didn’t argue with her since he’d mostly eaten frozen dinners or out of cans all week.
Thankfully the bruise didn’t appear nearly as bad as he’d thought it would. It was visible, but it could’ve been much worse. The pool cue had been a mere inch or two away from giving her a black eye as well. Brooke insisted it didn’t hurt much and handed him the bags of food she’d brought with her.
“What are we having?”
She tossed him an amused smile. “You’ll see in a minute.”
Chess chuckled as he set the bags on the kitchen counter. Brooke may be a lot of things, but boring wasn’t one of them. In fact, he’d have to say she was one of the most unpredictable elements in his life. Something that used to drive him crazy in that first year after she and Joel moved into his tiny apartment. But now he welcomed it. Well, except for the part about having to pick her up from a bar. He could do without that.
Had she spoken to Larry again? Had the guy at least apologized for getting drunk and not making sure she got home again safely?
Epic lifted his head against Brooke’s hand, reminding her that he was there and needed an ear scratch or two. She knelt and obliged. “I’ll bet you’re anxious to have Anna back, aren’t you, boy? Is this guy over here boring you?”
“Ha-ha, funny.” Chess lifted an eyebrow at her. “It just so happens we get along great, thank you very much.”
Brooke kissed the top of Epic’s head and stood again. “Everything’s hot and ready to eat.”
Chess got plates and silverware out as Brooke unpacked the bags and took it to the dining room table. He sat down and observed the fare. Fried chicken, mashed potatoes, gravy, and corn on the cob. His favorite. He lifted his gaze to meet hers across the table.
Her cheeks turned pink, and she shrugged as if the meal were no big deal. “I wanted to thank you for what you did last night. I appreciate it. Besides, I haven’t made fried chicken in forever.”
“Well, thanking me wasn’t necessary, but I’m not turning down a feast like this. Thank you.”
She grinned.
Chess took a bite of fried chicken. Butter and cornmeal combined with the right amount of garlic. Perfect. He noticed Brooke hesitated before eating her own food. She’d always been one to pray before a meal, even if it was silently. It was one of the few things they’d disagreed about since day one. She and Joel were Christians. But Chess… Well, he wasn’t even sure God existed. And if He did, He’d certainly never cared one bit about what happened in Chess’s life. Either way, Chess wasn’t interested.
He shook off the thoughts and focused on his food. Epic sat on the other side of the room, his eyes following their every move.
Brooke tilted her head toward the dog. “Does he always do that?”
“I might give him more scraps than Anna does. But who’s counting?”
Brooke giggled. “I’m thinking Epic is.”
Chess raised a mischievous eyebrow. “Epic and I have agreed to not say a thing when Joel and Anna get back.” He took a bite of his corn and winked at Epic.
“You’re something else.” She pointed a thumb toward the kitchen. “I noticed the empty can of soup on the counter. Is that what you had for lunch?”
He looked at her, and they both smiled. “It is. Though not anywhere near as good as what you used t
o make, though.”
She laughed. “What? You didn’t cook up some rice, chop a few carrots, and serve it on a platter?”
He remembered well how, not long after she and Joel moved into his apartment, food was a little thin. Brooke somehow took a can of soup and turned it into a meal. Even now, opening a can of soup brought a wave of nostalgia. “I dumped it into a bowl, nuked it in the microwave, and ate it with a spoon. But it always makes me think of those early days. That soup tasted as good as steak at the time.”
“Yeah, it did. We’ve come a long way since then.”
Chess enjoyed the sound of her laughter until his gaze rested on her bruise and he sobered. They ate in comfortable silence. When they’d finished, Brooke got up to clear the table, but Chess stopped her. “I was wondering if I could talk to you about something.”
“Sure.”
“Let’s go sit down.”
Brooke took a seat on the couch and Chess joined her, angling his body to face her. She watched him expectantly. He cleared his throat. “Did I mess things up when you and Joel first came to stay with me?”
Her eyes narrowed. “What are you talking about?”
Chess rubbed his chin with one hand. “You used to ask me all the time how I ended up in foster care or question me about my family. I pretty much told you to leave me alone back then.” He paused. “Joel and I get along well. You and Joel have a special bond. But I think I messed that up between us, didn’t I?”
Brooke shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. It might have set the tone for how we interacted with each other. But I never knew when to hold my tongue then, and you had every right to tell me to mind my own business.”
“Maybe so. I think I pushed you away, and I never intended to do that.” Opening up to Brooke like this wasn’t easy. Chess was tempted to stop there, but he forged ahead. It had to have been hard for her when she revealed her original hopes for her future, or called him from the bar last night when she could’ve summoned a cab. She’d made an effort this week, and he wanted to do the same.
“You wanted to know what landed me in foster care.” He had her full attention and continued. “When I was a kid, I lived in Dallas and my home life was a mess. My parents fought all the time. I’m talking shouting fights and verbal abuse on an almost daily basis. My father was a drunk and spent most of his time lying around the house, semi-conscious. My mother loathed it, though she wasn’t much better. She was rarely happy. I remember her crying more than anything else.”
Brooke frowned. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugged. “My little brother, Nathan, was born when I was five. If anything, our mother seemed even sadder after that. As an adult looking back, I’m sure she was depressed. Some days, she didn’t even want to get out of bed. We had little food or money. Most of the time, I ended up taking care of Nathan. I fed him, changed his diapers, and everything else.”
Brooke listened intently, her chin cupped in one of her hands. Her eyes were wide as though she were nervous about what he would say next.
“When the fights escalated, I’d take Nathan into our room and close the door. Sometimes, we didn’t go back out for hours. One day, before Nathan was a year old, I woke up and our mother was gone. We never saw her again. I asked my father several times where she was and he always said things were too much for her and that she had to start over.”
“Oh, Chess. That’s horrible!”
Sometimes not knowing what happened was worse than the facts themselves. Except Chess still didn’t know what happened to his mother and only had speculation. He’d kept all these memories buried deep. Now that they were surfacing, some of the other details he’d forgotten were coming to mind as well. Like the musty smell of his bedroom, or the liquor-infused breath of his father. “I’d done everything I could to take care of Nathan. I promised him I would. I blamed myself for not having done enough sometimes, especially when he’d cry because he was hungry and I had nothing to give him.” He held up a hand to stop her when she started to speak. “Thinking about it now, I realize I did way more than any six-year-old should’ve had to do. But at the time…”
“It makes sense you’d feel that way. I never knew my dad, and I have few memories of him. But I still grew up wondering if I’d done something to make him leave.”
He nodded. “Exactly. My father only drank more after that. When I was eight and Nathan was three, we had no money, and my father got desperate. He robbed a liquor store and stabbed the owner with a knife. He went to jail, and social services came and got me and Nathan.”
Brooke cringed. What was she thinking? Did she pity him? He sure hoped not — that was the last thing he wanted.
“I promised myself that day I would be there for Nathan. That I would never leave him like our mother did, and that I would put him first like our father should have.” He’d sure fallen short of fulfilling those pledges to his brother. He suppressed the tidal wave of failure that threatened to crash over him.
~
Brooke listened to Chess’s story, her heart breaking for the little boy he once was. Losing one parent, no matter what the cause, was hard enough. But two was even more devastating. She imagined Chess watching over his baby brother when he was little more than a baby himself.
He’d never mentioned Nathan before. What happened to him? She wanted to ask but kept quiet. It was big that Chess was even telling her about all of this, and she didn’t want to push him. He’d tell her when or if he was ready.
“I remember the day a social worker came and got me,” she said. “It was overwhelming and confusing.” She paused. “I guess we both entered the system at eight, didn’t we?”
Chess nodded. “I hadn’t realized that. But yeah, I guess we did.” He observed her as though he were deciding how much more to reveal.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me anything else if you don’t want to.”
“I appreciate that, Brooke. But it’s probably something I should have shared a long time ago.” He stared at the coffee table. “We bounced from foster home to foster home for six months until we ended up with a family that had five other kids besides us, all of them older than I was. I took care of Nathan the best that I could, and I hated having to go to school during the day and leaving him with our foster parents. One morning, a social worker came to the house. Apparently, our foster parents had expressed concern about Nathan staying there with all the older kids. I was told there were no homes that would take both of us and that Nathan needed to live somewhere else.” His voice broke. “I tried to stop them. My foster father had to hold me back to keep me from running after Nathan. I remember the social worker had to carry him away because he was crying my name.” He raked a hand through his hair and let out a slow breath. “I was told they would help us stay in touch, but that never happened. I didn’t know where Nathan went. Maybe it was a miscommunication. But I spent the rest of my childhood wondering whether Nathan was okay. When I turned fifteen, I ran away and searched for him. It was like he’d just disappeared.”
Brooke held a hand to her mouth, her eyes stung with unshed tears. It’d been bad enough going through what she did, much less being separated from a sibling. Especially one she’d been caring for like Chess had Nathan. “That’s horrible. I can’t even imagine … What were the caseworkers thinking, splitting you guys up like that? And not even letting you stay in touch? That’s messed up.”
Chess nodded, his teeth clenched. “I was upset about it for years. The anger and effort to find him consumed me.”
“Why are you telling me all of this now?” She said it gently and hoped it didn’t come off like she was accusing him or upset at him for not telling her sooner.
He paused. “Because my brother contacted me online this week.”
Brooke gasped. “You’re kidding!”
“It seems he got adopted, and his last name was changed. His family later moved to Florida, which is why I haven’t been able to find him. I wouldn’t have known where to look.” There was
no missing the pain in his eyes.
“Did you explain to him what happened?” Brooke already knew the answer, otherwise Chess would be happier about finding his brother.
“He says they told him I didn’t want to go with him, and that’s why he was alone. I said that wasn’t true, but I don’t think he’s ready to hear what actually happened. I’m trying to give him time. I don’t want him to break contact, not after thinking I’d never speak to him again.”
Brooke thought for a moment. “We don’t understand what happened to him once he was removed from that home. If he grew up thinking you didn’t want him, it would be hard to let that go.” Chess was frowning, and she reached across the couch to touch his hand, trying to ignore the warmth that spread through her chest in response. “Give him time. If he bothered to locate and contact you, he’ll eventually want to know your side of things. He’s probably having to work up the courage.”
“I hope you’re right. After everything we went through, the last thing I wanted to lose was my only family. He was four and probably barely remembers me.” Chess looked at their joined hands as though he only just realized she was touching him. He turned his over and held hers a moment before giving it a gentle squeeze and letting go.
Brooke’s heart jumped into her throat. “I’m glad you told me about Nathan, Chess. I’ll be praying everything will work itself out.”
He frowned at her. “Brooke…”
“I know you don’t believe and that’s okay. I’ll still be praying.”
He gave a single nod and stood. “Thanks for listening. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you back when you first asked me.”
“It’s okay. I get it.” She wished he had, too. What would their friendship be like now if that had been the case? It meant a lot he’d finally told her about it now. “And I’m glad we had dinner. I missed that last weekend. It’s weird to think Anna and Joel will be home in a little over a week.” She would miss the one-on-one time with Chess.
Someone to Trust (Life Unexpected Book 2) Page 4