by Haley Jenner
“I don’t even know why I’m dressed like this.” She picks at the loose material of her black dress. “It symbolizes mourning. I should’ve done that at seventeen when I actually lost him. When he abandoned me.”
I feel the frown on my face as it forms. “Hen, baby, you’re allowed to grieve him even though he hurt you.”
“No,” she denies my statement vehemently.
“Yes,” I push just as fervently.
She closes her eyes, dropping her head in shame. “I feel so stupid.”
“For what?”
Her head lifts instinctively, eyes opening with a spray of contempt. “He didn’t want me, Brooks. Why should I care that he’s dead?” she asks me, begging me to give her logic. “He just cut me out as if I was nothing.” Her breathing stutters, her words coming out like shards of glass; broken and fragile.
I wrap an arm around her, pulling her into my side, and she comes willingly.
“You care because as shitty as he was, he was the only father you knew, Squirrel. Derrick professed to love you once upon a time. You’re allowed to hold on to that, even if it hurts to do so.”
She sniffs. “He left me everything.” She pauses, pulling in a breath large enough to push her frame upward. “His fortune. He left every last cent of it to me.”
Her small voice is warped in confusion. “He was sick for months and didn’t bother reaching out to mend our relationship, but then he leaves me his estate.” She stops, looking at me for understanding. “With what I can only assume is a pitiful collection of words trying to explain himself.”
It’s then that I notice the crumpled envelope in her hand.
“You haven’t read it?”
Eyes set on the flowing water, she shakes her head.
After a beat, she rubs a hand along her nose. “Do you think I should?”
“I don’t think you’re obligated to do anything,” I tell her honestly. “If you think it’ll bring you closure, sure. But if you think his words will only bring you more pain, then don’t give him the satisfaction.”
Standing, she brushes off the moss and twigs stuck to the back of her dress. I let her go without following, watching her determined steps as she moves toward the water.
Balancing on the river’s edge, she stares at the wrinkled envelope, her back tensed under her own scrutiny. Head tipping up to the canopy of trees above us, she fills her lungs, exhaling while letting the rigidness in her body fade away.
Her knees meet the cold, wet ground, the leaves rustling underneath her weight as she rests her ass on the balls of her feet. Picking up a stone, she holds it loosely in her palm, feeling its weight before holding the envelope in the water. Rock placed atop, she lets go, hands held up in a show of surrender as the middle of the paper folds in on itself, sailing away with the current within seconds.
I watch her, watch Derrick’s words float away. It’s poetic. Her burying his useless apology in the only place that brought her solace when he was in her life. A final fuck you, I wish I’d been man enough to give him when I was seventeen.
She watches the white piece of paper until it’s out of sight before standing on shaky legs. Not even dusting the dirt from her knees, she moves back to our rock.
“I’ve tried to call you.”
“My phone has been off.”
“I emailed too.”
“I’ve been avoiding that too.”
“Because you didn’t want to talk to me?” she asks, kneeling on our rock, close enough her knees are touching my hip.
“Because I wanted to talk to you too much.”
She waits quietly, her eyes frenzied as they search my face.
“I was afraid you’d reject me again.”
“Brooks, I’m—”
“Can I say something first?”
“Okay,” she whispers.
“I wish I’d never said the horrible things I did to you.”
“I’m glad you did,” she rushes out, grabbing hold of my hand.
My brows knot heavily on my face.
“You left, and I’d never felt so empty, so alone,” she concedes. “You were right, Brooks. I was so caught up in my fears, I was blinded to the way I was hurting you. I’m such an awful person.”
“Baby—”
“I am,” she assures me. “But that’s okay. I’m okay with acknowledging that, with accepting that. It means I can fix it. Like you said, when things are broken. . .”
“You fix them,” I finish when she doesn’t.
“It won’t be easy,” she blurts out. “But if you love me as I love you, I hope you’ll give me, give us,” she corrects, “another chance.”
A shaky breath of laughter bubbles from my throat, and I tip my head up to the sky.
“You’re laughing.” She drops to her bottom. “Oh God. You’re laughing.”
Grabbing her face in both hands, I pull her to me, slamming my lips to hers in a long hard kiss.
“I love you.” I kiss. “For keeps. For fucking always.”
Arms around my neck, she kisses me back. “And I love you. For keeps. For always.”
Pulling her in closer, she squeals, falling forward with enough force to shift our grip on our rock. Falling backward, I land on my back on the soft earth, Henley’s body laying over mine.
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” she whispers against my mouth.
“It doesn’t matter anymore,” I tell her.
Digging into the pocket of my jacket, I grab the box, holding it up between us. “I’ve been carrying this around for a few months.”
She looks at the small velvet box held loosely between my index finger and thumb, her brows knitting together in confusion.
“I bought it the day after you told me you didn’t want us anymore.”
She coughs to clear her already tender throat. “Why?”
“I promised myself that next time we were in the same space, I’d give it to you and hope like hell you’d accept it. Life without you isn’t worth it to me, Henley.”
My jaw tightens, fear and emotion wanting to hold me hostage. The line of my throat aches as I swallow thickly. “I’ve asked you more than once to uproot your life for me. But you’ve never asked the same.”
The defined line of her brows pulls together, and I lift a thumb to soothe it.
“I didn’t think it was an option.”
I turn my focus to the flowing river, considering how many times I’ve fucked this up. Henley and I. How many times she’s sabotaged our happy ending out of fear. We were hell-bent on carving our own nightmare, and I refuse to let us get lost in that any longer.
I take a breath of relief, turning to let my eyes drift across her face lovingly.
I feel as drawn to her today as I did the day I met her.
“I’m sorry for asking you to change your life for me. I feel like the world’s biggest asshole for not putting as much belief in your dreams as I have mine. I didn’t even realize that was what I was doing until you called me out on it, Squirrel.”
Her head tips sideways, only slightly, but enough for her long hair to fall heavily over her shoulder, drifting along the sleeve of my shirt.
“You were right. I became the two people I vowed I would never be to you. I put myself above them because I loved you, but it didn’t stop me from hurting you.”
Hand to my chest, she pauses over my heart, feeling it beat steadily against her palm.
“I’m sorry,” I tell her softly. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Her fingers clench at my chest before relaxing again, sliding up to cup my jaw.
“I didn’t ask you to stay with me because I didn’t want you to give your life up for me,” she argues quietly. “You had a good life, have a good life,” she corrects herself. “To sacrifice that—”
“Being with you wouldn’t be a sacrifice to me,” I cut her off. “I just needed to know you wanted that.”
“Brooks.”
I shake my head.
“This means what you wan
t it to, Squirrel. Marriage? Done. A simple promise of us? It’s yours. Anything you want this to mean.” I open the box, a simple solitaire pear cut diamond ring balanced inside. “It’s yours.”
Completely still, her body rigid atop of mine, her eyes are lost in the brilliance of the ring. “I thought you hated promises.”
“If my heart is gonna be broken, I’d only ever want you to be the cause. It’s taken me a while to realize that, but handing your heart over involves a gamble. I’m willing if you are.”
She sits up, straddling my hips quietly.
“I love you, Henley Wright. From the moment you accused me of stealing this very rock, you were my endgame. Whether I knew it at the time or not.”
“I love you, too,” she whispers. “But I’d never ask you to give up your life for me.”
I bark out a laugh, pushing myself up so we’re nose to nose. “Don’t you get it?” I kiss her. “Living without you is giving up my life.”
She holds the ring box to her chest. “All my minutes are yours. Every sixty seconds from here on out, I’m where you are.”
Epilogue
HENLEY: FIVE YEARS LATER
When I was a young girl, the concept of family was starkly different for me than it was for my peers. Quite frankly, the notion was almost frightening. Jacinta and Derrick were steadfast in their shortcomings. Loyalty didn’t exist between them. Selflessness was an ideology that was drowned out by their narcissistic nature. Genuine love, care, and concern just weren’t part of their make-up.
Following Derrick’s death, I considered mending my relationship with Jacinta. I spent hours deliberating over the possibility. In the end, Brooks broke it down for me so poetically, I knew my answer was no.
“Baby, this one’s an easy one. Think about you as a mother, holding our baby.”
I’d envisaged it so clearly. A tiny dark-haired bundle wrapped up in my arms. A miniature version of the man who I trekked through heaven and hell to find.
“Would you want Jacinta to help shape them as a person?”
The answer was a resounding no. Absolutely fucking not.
My deliberation over mended bridges closed the moment I’d come to that realization.
She called me after Derrick’s funeral. Of course, she did. She saw dollar signs. An opportunity at a paycheck. I didn’t answer her call or the thirty-five that followed. She eventually got the message.
Brooks and I spent some time in Lake Geneva following our reconciliation. We’d decided, together, that the ring he bought me was a promise of more. We’d only just come together, so we didn’t want to rush into anything that would put greater pressure on ourselves. We wanted to just be. We wanted to enjoy one another in a way we hadn’t allowed ourselves to. We had over a decade of lost time to make up for, and we were hell-bent on doing exactly that.
We made love in our spot by our rock. It was messy and rough and, at times, downright thorny, but we were too caught up in one another to care.
We spent time reconnecting with his parents. They didn’t hesitate to welcome me back into their fold and were over the moon at Brooks’s obvious happiness. Because all they ever wanted was their son to be happy.
Following Lake Geneva, we began building a life around one another together. We compromised. We chose our destinations and, therefore, our next jobs together. It was far easier than either of us imagined it would be. In the beginning, I considered that we were too loved up to care where we were. But as the years passed and the ease in which we traveled continued, I realized it was because we’d both come to an understanding within ourselves that life without one another wasn’t worth it.
We began volunteering in the various countries we visited. Slicing out a large chunk of time to help where we could. We also put Derrick’s money to good use. We donated to orphanages all over the world. Providing the necessities we take for granted to children who were in need. It made Derrick’s estate meaningful to me. His money never belonged to me. I wanted what he had promised me was mine, his love. His money was meaningless. But we could take the positive in the situation, and that was that we could make a difference in the lives of children who really needed it.
Three years ago, I launched my own company. One I could manage from anywhere in the world. I hadn’t thrown myself into the best mixology courses for the patrons' gain. Or learned from every barkeep I came into contact with to just make a mean cocktail. Sure, I wanted to be good at what I did, but I always had a greater end goal.
I created my own line of mixers. Not the sweet, substituted brands marketed to college students wanting to get loaded. These were real. Perfectly crafted like the beverages you pay for in a swanky cocktail bar. All in the comfort of your own home.
I’d spent years of my life deliberating over the ingredients, making certain they were culminating. When I was convinced they were supreme, I agonized a little bit more. From there, The Rocks was born. A collection of mixers for cocktail lovers. Delicious sours, margaritas, sangria, and cosmos all at the tip of your fingertips. We’d even created a collection of edible florals; garnishes for crowning that faultless cocktail.
The Rocks blew up in the States. Brooks had a connection, albeit craggy, with a pop star he photographed once upon a time. When Brooks reached out asking him to drop The Rocks on his socials, he seemed more than happy to help me out. He referred to Brooks as a twat a lot for people who were supposed to be friendly, but I took his help gratefully.
“Hey, wife.”
I open my eyes, taking the steaming cup of coffee Brooks hands me. “Morning, husband.”
We were married yesterday. Nothing fancy. Nothing excessive. A courthouse, Brooks’s parents for witnesses, and the love we had for another. Over the years, my understanding of family has thankfully shifted. This, with Brooks, is what I’d spent the majority of my life without. Our loyalty to one another is unwavering. Our love was resolute.
It may have taken us both many years to embrace one another the way we were destined to, but our ending seems all the more sweeter because of it.
“You went to Caffeine Coma without me?”
Kissing the end of my nose, he settles along the end of the bed, sipping his coffee.
“I was watching you sleep long enough to move into psychopath territory. I decided to go for a walk to let you sleep. Tripp and Zoe were there. They passed on their congratulations.”
I frown purposely. “Was the baby with them?”
He smiles uncomfortably.
“Dammit,” I groan.
“Squirrel, they’re there every day. We’ll go tomorrow. You can gush over their baby boy until your heart's content.”
“Okay,” I give in.
“Okay, now that I’ve bought you coffee. . . you ready to let me fuck you?”
I raise an eyebrow. “I’m always ready for you to fuck me.”
“This is true,” he agrees solemnly. “You know, even after last night, my dick was hard all fucking morning.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“It’s not my fault you have a delicious pussy,” he says nonchalantly, placing his empty coffee cup on the ground before crawling on top of me.
Kissing me, he takes my coffee, sliding it onto the bedside table as his tongue strokes inside my mouth.
“Don’t even try to tell me you don’t love it.”
I smile against his lips. “I love you.”
“For keeps.”
I pull back from our kiss, looking into his eyes. “For always, baby.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Welcome to the part of our books where we try to thank everyone that made this book a reality in a few short paragraphs.
Read: Impossible.
We say this with every book we release into the wild and will continue to do so until the end.
Writing might be a lonely endeavor at times, but there is always a community of people ready to cheer us on and we couldn’t do this gig without them.
First and foremost this time around,
OUR READERS. We feel a little emotional writing this… your unwavering support over the past twelve months has been a gift. We released one book in 2020. That’s it. ONE. But you stuck by us. You built us up on the days we struggled and we felt your love. WE. FELT IT. For that, we can’t even begin to describe the amount of love we have for you. Thank you for encouraging us. We cannot wait to wrap you up in a HJ hug and tell you we love you in person.
ELLLLLLLIIIEEE. Can you read how much we heart you in that one word? We don’t actually know how to say thank you in ways that we haven’t already said at this point. You’re a rockstar. One that honors our voice and gives life to our motivation when you talk about the affection you hold for our words. We love you and cannot wait for International borders to open again to hug you again.
Jenny. You’re amazing. Truly. Thank you for joining the HJ fam. It’s a crazy collection of people that we love endlessly and we’re extremely excited to welcome you into our mayhem.
Michelle. Annette. Hand to heart. We couldn’t do this without you. Your honesty, your support, guidance, and unwavering love gets us through each day. We cannot wait for the day we’re all together to drink margaritas and hug you to the point of suffocation.
Our street team. You’re our lifeline. One that shouts about HJ from the rooftops. We hear you and we are endlessly grateful for all that you do for us.
Group Therapy. You beautiful people. Thank you for being our home in this big world. You are our favorites.
We hope you enjoyed Brooks and Henley and their tumultuous trek to find their HEA. If you have a spare second to drop an honest review for their story, it would mean the absolute world to us.
Love you.
Always.
H and J xx
Brooks and Henley’s Playlist
Free Fallin’ - John Mayer
Need You Know - Lady A