He holds up both hands. “Look, I don’t want to argue with you. Send it in, don’t send it in, that’s up to you. But don’t kid yourself about what you’re doing.” He gets to his own feet.
“I’m not kidding myself, I’m just trying not to hurt anyone.”
“And how’s that going for you?”
I suck in a breath but clamp my teeth to keep from saying anything that I might later regret.
“Seriously? No comment?”
I fight the urge to cross my arms. “I don’t have anything nice to say right now.”
“So? That never stops me.”
“Maybe it should,” I say with a little more heat than I intend.
One side of his mouth lifts, then the other. “That wasn’t very nice, Brooke.”
“Stop goading me.”
“Stop being so goadable. What do you care what I say or think anyway?”
I gape at him. “Of course I care what you think. You’re my—”
His smile slips along with my frown.
It doesn’t feel safe to label anything between us, but considering he just called me out for being dishonest, I can’t exactly take it back now. “You’re my friend,” I finish.
He tries to look away, but I catch something pained flit across his face before he can.
“Please don’t let that be a bad thing,” I say, looking at the sadness he always holds so tightly around himself, even when he tries to mask it in anger. “I don’t think it has to be. You’re the only person in my life that I don’t have to hide things from. I talk to you about my family and my feelings. I even tell you about my nightmares.” As much of them as I can anyway. “I know we can’t change the past, but having you in my life helps. It helps me feel less alone. Isn’t that...isn’t that what I do for you?”
His gaze lifts to mine but he doesn’t answer my question, he asks one of his own. “Would it help? If you knew everything about that night?”
My whole body jerks. “Do you know—”
His hand brushes my arm and he shakes his head, cutting me off. “No, I’m just talking. I have them too, you know. I guess I always just thought the truth might be worse than the nightmares. At least those we can wake up from.”
“Not when they follow you from your bed,” I say.
He falls silent, and something heavy forms in the pit of my stomach. “I don’t mean that mine are worse than yours. I know they’re not—”
“Brooke. It’s okay.” He doesn’t reach out for me again, but his words are so gentle that I feel comforted all the same. “Friends, huh?”
“I mean, I know we can’t exactly tell anyone, but...” I lift one shoulder, feeling suddenly and unaccountably shy.
He shakes his head and steps into me, causing my breath to catch when his hands mold around my hips. “Just try to be the kind of friend who doesn’t break my nose this time, okay?”
When he flexes his knees preparing to lift me, a smile blooms on my face and I swear he draws in a breath seeing it.
CHAPTER 27
It’s Friday night and I’m staring up at the tree alone and worrying my bottom lip between my teeth while trying to convince myself that the full moon overhead is a good thing. Being able to more clearly see each branch I grab or step on is a plus, but that also means I’ll have a moonlit visual of those same branches if I fall past them on my way back down. I’ve actually been getting dizzy a lot less lately, both when Heath lifts me and when I’m climbing on my own. The former is because he talks to me constantly when I’m in the air, keeping me tethered to the ground by his voice even when I feel miles from it.
I glance up at the straight line carved on the trunk for the ten-foot mark—and I imagine I hear Heath urging me on as I suck in a breath and reach for the first branch.
There you go, that part’s easy, right?
No. It’s not easy, but I step up anyway.
Don’t look down; you’ve been higher than this before.
My knees wobble a little as I stand on the waist-high branch, keeping my eyes up as if Heath is there talking to me instead of it just being his voice in my head.
See the line? Two more branches and you’re there.
I keep my chin level, but my eyes glance down and it’s like the ground starts to tip sideways.
Come on, Brooke. You’re so close. How bad do you want this?
I press my cheek against the rough bark and force my eyes back up to the goal, to the line that means I’d be higher off the ground than Heath could ever have to lift me.
Hey. You can do this. I know you can.
And suddenly, I know I can too. Not just because Heath’s been telling me for two weeks that I can, but because I know I’m more afraid staying on the ground than I’ll ever be of falling.
I don’t need anyone else’s voice to grab the branch above me or pull myself another couple feet. I don’t make it all the way to the line, but I come closer than I have before and I don’t feel like I’m giving up when I climb back down. I know I’ll reach it, I realize as my foot touches on the ground, just not tonight.
“Look at you not falling.”
My hand flies to my heart. “Oh my goodness you scared me.”
“You didn’t hear me pull up?”
I shake my head, wondering if it’s possible to have a heart attack at seventeen. My heart was already beating wildly from being up so high, and it kicked into hyperdrive when Heath startled me. Still, I can’t help but smile seeing him. “What are you doing here? I thought you had to work.”
“I gave away my shift. I had something I needed to do and I thought you might want the extra day to practice.” He says this lightly, but the way he’s looking at everything but me makes me think he’s not being completely honest. My smile dims.
“You gave away your shift?” I know his family relies on his paycheck. If anything, he picks up extra shifts; he doesn’t give away the ones he has. And not for this, for me. I start to ask him another question, but then I notice there’s a sheen to his skin that I don’t think the summer heat alone is responsible for. “Is something wrong?”
He shakes his head but he won’t meet my gaze.
“Heath, you can talk to me...about anything.” He’s still shaking his head a little, and unease is starting to raise the hairs on the back of my neck. “What did you need to do?”
“I just needed to see somebody.”
“Who?” I say, breathing the word. I could swear he almost looks guilty.
His gaze holds me bound when it lifts to mine, all his nervous energy gone in a flash. “Did you have a nightmare last night?”
I blink at the non sequitur. “I—Yes. Did you? Is that why...”
Heath frowns, and his unblinking stare makes my heart race faster. Finally, he says, “It was just one of those days, okay? I knew you’d be here so I came, but I don’t feel like making a big deal out of it. Can we just...?”
I nod, longing to press for more but understanding that he’s not ready to give it. I can’t help but feel like he’s not telling me everything. He hasn’t told me about what happens in his nightmares, but I’ve felt sick from mine more often than not and I can only imagine how much worse his must be. Still, I’m glad he sought me out, whatever the reason. Glad enough that I force the rest away.
He looks up at the tree. “How high did you get this time?”
“Almost nine. Eight and a half at least.”
“Brooke, that’s great.” He hesitates but only for a moment before stepping forward and pulling me into a hug that I return. I’ve gotten very used to touching Heath over these past weeks, but it’s usually in the guise of practice or the occasional conciliatory gesture when we are talking about our families. We don’t touch each other just because, and I feel the difference this time when we do. I feel Heath with nothing else to distract me. I feel his strength and
his warmth the same way I felt his voice when I was climbing. I feel his heartbeat and his breath exhaling over my neck and it’s like the ground is moving again even though my feet are firmly planted on it.
He lets go before I would have and seems not the least bit affected by our embrace. “So eight and a half, huh? Does that mean we can try the Dirty Dancing lift?”
“It’s called a swan lift.”
Heath gives me a look.
“It was a swan lift long before that movie came out.”
Heath continues to look at me.
“And my leg position is slightly different.”
“Brooke.”
“Fine. Yes, I think I’m ready to try it,” I say. “Maybe.”
“That’s the kind of rock-solid confidence I’m looking for. Let’s do this!”
Heath jogs back to his truck to turn his headlights on and give us some much-needed light. Watching Heath’s silhouetted form walk back toward me has my heart galloping in my chest.
He stops in front of me, and I have to look up a little to meet his gaze. I hear myself swallow.
He looks at me expectantly. “So are you going to run at me?”
“No, I’ll step into you, grab your wrists and, once I’m up and I have my balance, I’ll let go.”
“Sounds easy enough.”
I give Heath a look.
“I’m serious.”
I continue to give Heath a look until his smile infects my own.
“I told you I won’t let you fall, and if I feel it starting to happen, I promise you’ll fall on me and not the ground.” He says it so seriously that my pulse kicks impossibly higher.
“I believe you.”
Heath closes the remaining distance between us. “Where do I put my hands? Here?” His hands settle low on my hips. Since I was planning only on climbing a tree tonight, I opted for cutoffs and a loose tank top instead of the yoga pants and fitted racerback tank I normally wear when practicing. The cutoffs are low and the tank top barely skims the waistband, so his hands touch that thin stretch of exposed skin and I almost jump.
“Um, no. Here.” I shift his hands so his palms are touching my hip bones and only the tips of his fingers reach the around the sides.
We practice me stepping into him and him finding the correct hand placement several times before moving on to the beginning of the lift, just a small hop off the ground so he can get used to holding my weight in that position.
I never get used to his hands on my bare skin, however small the contact is.
We move on to Heath lifting me higher—not over his head, but even with it. We work on this longer than we need to, more so for me to acclimate to the height than anything else. It does feel high, but so much of me is focused on my skin touching his that I don’t cross that line of being scared. Not of falling anyway.
I step back and meet Heath’s gaze. “All the way this time?”
He nods and I move.
I feel a zing when his hands touch me, another when my feet leave the ground and a third when I surge up over his head. I feel myself wanting to rush it, to hit the pose as quickly as possible so that Heath can lower me back down again. But I focus on his hands and the sound of his voice urging me on and when I feel steady, I release his wrists and extend my arms.
And down I go.
Heath is as good as his word. Somehow he surges backward as I’m tipping, and he keeps me from face-planting on the ground. Possibly even more impressive—not a single part of my body comes into contact with his nose.
Settling me back on my feet, Heath says, “Okay, that was not bad for a first go.”
I have to agree. I was expecting it to go so much worse.
“How’d you do with the height?”
“Fine,” I say, surprised that I actually mean it. “I think it was okay, it was just a balance issue.” But even as I say that, my cheeks heat, because the truth is it was more a him-and-me issue.
“Okay like you’re ready to go again?”
I start to nod then stop myself. “Your shoulders have to be getting tired.” We’ve been working on this for close to an hour, which means he’s probably lifted me a hundred times already.
He rolls each shoulder. “I’m good.”
Still I hesitate.
Heath sighs, but he half smiles as he does it. “Come here.”
I feel warmer all over as I step closer to him, a normal step not the kind that precedes a lift.
He reaches for me, his hands sliding up either side of my rib cage and then slowly, oh so slowly, he bends his elbows, lifting me until we are eye level. “My shoulders are fine.”
My heart is not. As steady as his arms are, my heart is beating wildly. And he just keeps holding me in the air like that, like I weigh nothing and he can go on holding me forever.
The fading smile he started with is the only sign that he’s exerting any effort. It slips while I remain steady. And when his eyes dip to my mouth, I know. I know what he’s going to do even before he lowers my feet to the ground without releasing me. And I know as I lift my face, that he’s as afraid as I am.
The second his lips touch mine I feel like I’m off the ground again, only this time it feels like when I leap off the ice; it’s that same exhilarating freedom and sense of rightness, that same fear-enhanced euphoria that tells me even if I fall, it’s worth it. For a second, I don’t think about anything except leaning into this kiss, into Heath, my hands rising up his biceps when he squeezes my ribs, sending goose bumps on top of goose bumps over my skin. His lips fit mine like they were made for me, and I feel myself getting lost in the mix of softness and strength I find in his kiss, in him. In something so perfect it aches.
But a second is all I get before reality tears my mouth from his with a soft cry I don’t have to explain. Already that perfect moment is twisting in my memory, guilt tugging on my limbs and leaching away all the warmth I felt in his arms.
“We can’t do this,” I say, looking up at his moonlit eyes and hoping mine don’t look half as tortured. I know what’s going through his mind, because the same thoughts are accusing me inside mine.
My brother killed his brother.
He can’t be with me without betraying Cal.
Even if he doesn’t yet, he’ll come to hate himself for kissing me.
And he’ll hate me too for making him forget, however briefly, that he’s not allowed to care about me.
But he’s not letting me go. His hands flex on my ribs like he’s seconds away from pulling me to him again, and I know with sickening certainty that I can’t ever let him kiss me again.
“I have to go.” I feel like I have to pry myself free from his hands. “Heath, you know I have to go.” My voice cracks.
“I know, but...” He’s frowning, not at me but in my direction like he can’t fully understand what we just did or why he’s not hurling himself away from me. But I do, and it’s oozing around inside me like I’m balancing on the edge of a cliff.
“I don’t think we can do this anymore,” I say, staring at the ground in front of us.
“See each other, or touch each other?”
I meet his gaze. “Both.”
There’s a flicker of anger that moves across his features. “Because I kissed you?”
I shake my head, the slight movement and the admission that follows taking all my strength. “Because I liked kissing you.”
His chest heaves as he lets out a breath, and I can’t believe any part of him could be relieved hearing that from me, but then he says, “Just come back tomorrow, okay? I’ll get someone to take my day shift and I’ll meet you and we’ll talk—”
I’m shaking my head to cut him off, stunned that I have to do that much. There is nothing that either one of us can say that we haven’t already said to ourselves a million times. The difference is that now we
have to listen. And if he can’t, then I have to say the one thing he can’t ignore.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” I say. “That’s when I visit my brother.”
CHAPTER 28
I’m already awake when Mom’s whisper-soft tap sounds on my bedroom door the following morning. I hardly slept at all, and when I did doze off it felt like only minutes before my nightmares would hurl me back awake.
I’d be in the woods watching Jason and Cal fighting, and then suddenly Heath would be there, right in front of me. I’d start scrambling to get past him, to see what was happening with our brothers, or worse, I’d try to get him to look so we could stop them together, but he kept blocking me until I was pushing him, screaming at him to let me by because I could hear Cal dying...
My skin is clammy when I get out of bed, and it stays prickly and sticky even after my quick shower.
Heath didn’t say anything harsh to me after our kiss and my revelation about visiting Jason today. I wanted to remind him that there were things much bigger than the two of us, things we couldn’t let ourselves forget even though for the briefest of moments, when his lips touched mine, I had.
I’d paid for it with nightmares that I could still see whenever I closed my eyes.
When I find Mom in the kitchen, I try to smile warmly at her, guilt making me feel like I need to overcompensate. Until I take in her appearance.
She’s still in her robe.
“Mom?”
She glances at me over her shoulder just as two slices of toast pop up in the toaster. “Brooke, oh good.” She adds the toast to the tray I’m just now noticing, laden with ginger ale, saltine crackers and a big empty bowl. “Laura has been throwing up all night. I thought she might be feeling better, but she was just sick again.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” I say. “I can stay home with her if—if you’re okay going by yourself.” I’m trying to ignore the way my belly twists with fresh guilt over how badly I want her to say yes, to let me escape from seeing Jason just this once.
Mom is shaking her head as she picks up the tray. “Dad’s with her but she didn’t even want me to come downstairs. I can’t leave her.” She halts at the doorway and the tray shakes ever so slightly in her hands. “I can’t bear the thought of Jason going another week without seeing someone who loves him.” She lifts her gaze to mine. “Will you still go?”
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