by T. K. Leigh
“It’s not—”
“I. Saw. You,” she repeats louder. Gradually lifting her head, her wounded gaze locks with mine. I’ve hurt this woman more times than I care to count, but I’ve never felt as filled with remorse as I do at this moment.
“Please, Brooklyn,” I beg, my voice faltering. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”
“It doesn’t matter.” Her words are low, resigned, devoid of all emotion. Everything about her is devoid of emotion. I want her to yell at me, hit me, claw at me, anything to show a sign of life, to show that she’s still my Brooklyn. But she doesn’t.
“Skylar’s the one who encouraged Carla to petition for custody of the girls. When I learned that, I forgot about everything else. All I could think about was getting the truth out of Skylar. You know I’d do anything for my girls. When it comes to them, I become blind to everything else.”
“This is just another promise you made that you had no intention of following through with,” she murmurs. “I’m used to it at this point. I was weak and fell for your lies. I won’t make that mistake again.”
“It’s not just another promise,” I plead, digging my hands into my hair, an ache in my chest, my throat, my heart.
“For years, you tried to protect me from every single guy out there,” she continues, her voice still even. I’d give anything to hear even a hint of emotion from her, but I’ve broken her. “In all reality, the person you should have been protecting me from is you.”
Her words hit me harder than any fist to the face or hockey stick to the back I’ve experienced, knocking the breath from me. I scan her shriveled body as she closes her eyes, sick that I did this to her. Not just the physical wounds she endured tonight, but also the emotional ones she’s been carrying for years.
“I love you, Brooklyn.” I don’t know what else to say at this point. No explanation seems fitting.
“No, you don’t. You like the idea of me…until something better comes along. Then I’ll be invisible again. Just let me be invisible, Drew.”
“I can’t do that. I just…” I draw in a deep breath, kneeling in front of her. “I need you to trust me when I say this isn’t just another broken promise. There never was a broken promise to begin with. I wanted to be there the day I left for college. So bad. It killed me to leave you, but I didn’t have a choice.”
She opens her eyes, staring at me with a hint of indecision, something in the pleading tone of my voice cutting through her armor.
“I couldn’t sleep the night before, the memory of your kisses better than any dream. I got out of bed early, the minutes seeming to drag as I waited until it was time for me to see you. But as I was packing, your—”
Instantly, the door bursts open, cutting me off. I’m forced to my feet, staring into a familiar pair of eyes.
“Drew,” Mr. Tanner says, stoic, severe, unwavering. Two security guards stand behind him. Despite their wide stances, they’re not that big. I can easily take both out with no problem, but I doubt that’ll win me any points with Brooklyn. “I think it’s best if you leave.”
I square my shoulders, crossing my arms over my chest, pushing it out to appear more formidable. “I’ll go.” My eyes find Brooklyn’s. “If that’s what you want.”
He assesses me, mimicking my pose. “Of course it is.”
“Not you. Brooklyn.”
She perks up, her brows furrowed as she peers at me.
“All you have to do is say the word and I will walk out that door.” I point to the open doorway. “And you will never have to see me again. If that’s what you want.” My Adam’s apple bobs up and down, my voice catching as I trail off. “If you truly believe I don’t care about you, that I’d intentionally hurt you, that I deliberately broke my promise to you, I’ll leave and never look back. If that’s what you truly believe.”
I hold my breath, waiting for her response, the silence amplified by the monitors measuring her heart and brainwaves.
“Tell me to go, and I’ll give you your wish. I’ll let you be invisible again.”
She parts her lips, her eyes darting between me and her father, but no words come.
“That’s enough.” Mr. Tanner grasps my shoulder, pushing me toward the doorway. “She needs her rest.”
“Fine.” I shrug him off, retreating into the hallway, ignoring all the curious eyes from the medical staff congregated around the door. “I’m going.” My voice is loud so they all hear. That does nothing to persuade the security personnel, who follow until I’m out of the waiting room area and heading toward the parking lot.
My neck is strained, every muscle in my body tense as I storm toward my car, wracking my brain for a way I can fix this, a way I can make Brooklyn see I’m not the asshole she considers me to be. Hopefully, she just needs a chance to calm down. Like everything, this will blow over. It has to.
As I’m about to duck into my car and call Gigi to let her know what’s happened, someone shouts my name, the voice like nails on a chalkboard. I stop, taking a moment to reel in my rage, then turn around to face Brooklyn’s father.
“Drew…,” he begins, but I cut him off, not allowing him to say another word.
“Why don’t you like me?” My tone is harsh, demanding, evidencing my desperation over the situation. I’ve done nothing but show this man respect. He’s done nothing but try to keep his daughter from me.
He stares at me, considering his response. Then his gaze narrows, his distaste for me clear. “I went through her phone.”
“You what?” My eyes bulge out of their sockets. I’m unable to wrap my head around this degree of control over another human, especially an adult.
“I needed to alert Wes to what happened. When I saw all the missed calls from you, it piqued my curiosity, so I went through her texts to see what kind of ‘friendship’ you two still had,” he sneers, using air quotes.
Heat rolls over my face, the ground feeling like it’s giving out from beneath me. Over the past week, we’ve sent dozens of texts to each other, some sweet and sincere, others lust-filled and wanton. He wouldn’t have had to go that far back in our texts to find ones neither of us could claim were just harmless and innocent.
“She’s engaged,” he hisses through a tight jaw, leaning into me.
“She doesn’t love him.”
“And you think she loves you?”
“I know she does. She told me as much this morning when she kissed me goodbye before leaving my house.” My words do nothing except upset him further, but I didn’t fight hard enough for Brooklyn all those years ago. She needs to know I’ll jump every hurdle facing me this time. Even if that hurdle is her father. “And I love her.”
“Love her enough to ditch her for the Celtics game?”
I swallow hard, about to explain myself when he interrupts me.
“I was watching. I saw you sitting courtside. Didn’t think anything of it. Then I received a phone call from Revere PD, saying Brooklyn had been rushed to the hospital. When I got here and asked what she was doing at the beach this late at night, she told me she was supposed to meet a friend. From the texts I saw, it appears that friend was you. Isn’t that right?”
I nod, the motion subtle.
“Yet, at the same time you were supposed to meet her, you were sitting courtside. If that’s love—”
“Something came up. Something important that required my immediate attention.”
“Important enough that you couldn’t pick up the phone and call Brooklyn to let her know? The first missed call from you didn’t appear until after eight! She’d been waiting for you for over an hour! An hour!” He shakes his head, his chin quivering. “She could have died. That bastard was the brother of the father in one of her TPR cases who’s serving a twenty-year sentence for trafficking! If Detective Santa Rosa didn’t show up when he did, God knows what would have happened to her.”
“Don’t you think I know that!” I bellow, my voice echoing against the surrounding buildings. “Don’t you think
I’ve been thinking the same thing? Because I have! And it makes me sick.”
“Stay away from her.” His lips curl in the corners as he straightens his posture, returning to the formidable man I’ve always known him to be. “You’ve never done anything but hurt her.”
“Because of you! You gave me no choice but to hurt her. You can’t keep her away from me this time. You can’t threaten me with criminal charges anymore. I’m not the scared teenager I once was.”
“If you love her like you claim you do, you’ll let her move on with her life.” He holds my gaze a moment longer, then turns from me, heading back toward the hospital.
“And if you love her, you’ll tell her the truth about what happened before I left for college!” I shout.
He comes to an abrupt stop, pausing. On a long exhale, he glances over his shoulder at me. “You know I can’t do that.”
“I never said a word to her, never told her why I didn’t show up when I promised I would. Do you want to know why?”
His hardened expression faltering, he remains silent.
“Because I didn’t want her to think any less of you, didn’t want her to harbor any animosity toward you. So I’ve kept it quiet, even though I know the truth would give me the one thing I’ve always wanted.” I struggle to blink back the tears forming in my eyes.
“What’s that?” he asks timidly.
“Her. She’s all I’ve ever wanted. Now the woman I’ve loved my entire life won’t believe the truth even if I did tell her. She won’t believe me when I tell her I love her, that I want to spend the rest of my life with her, marry her, have a family with her. That I will honor her, provide for her, worship her for the rest of my days. All because I’ve spent the past seventeen years trying to do the right thing. Now I’m begging you to do the right thing and tell her.”
His lips part, turmoil covering the lines of his face.
“If she heard the truth from you, things might be different. Please…” I trail off, my words choked.
He stands there for what feels like an eternity, torn at my request. I’m putting him in a difficult position. But he put me in this same position before I left for college. I’ve spent the past several decades regretting that I didn’t stand up to him, tell him how much I loved his daughter, that I would never do anything to hurt her. He overreacted back then, just like he’s overreacting now. He knows it, but is that enough?
“Drew,” he says with a long sigh. “You have two daughters of your own now. You may not have experience with these things yet, but you will soon. And you’ll want the best for them. Wes comes from a good family. He’ll be able to give Brooklyn things I never could have imagined for her. She’ll never have to go to sleep worrying about where the money for the next mortgage payment will come from. Whether she’ll have enough in her account to put gas in the car to get her to work. Whether she’ll have to sleep in a cold house in the dead of winter because she couldn’t afford the heating costs.”
“She wouldn’t have to worry about any of those things with me, either! I’ve done very well for myself. I’ve made sacrifices my entire life to be successful. I’ve just been offered a seven-figure salary to coach for the Bruins.”
“She won’t have to worry about her spouse being unfaithful.”
“I’d never hurt her like that. Never. And at least with me, she’ll have love.”
“Wes loves her,” he responds.
“But she doesn’t love him,” I say once more. “I know she doesn’t.” I pause, studying his demeanor, something about the way he’s staring at me with apprehension making me think he agrees with my assessment. “And you know she doesn’t. Please. You have the power to fix this.”
An unspoken apology in his eyes, he turns from me. “But at a price I’m not willing to pay.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Brooklyn
I blink open my eyes, staring around the bright room, momentarily disoriented by the strange surroundings until memories of yesterday trickle back… Waking up in Drew’s arms. Thinking everything would finally work out between us. Michelle’s warning as I left to meet Drew at the beach. Drew never showing up. Seeing him at the Celtics game with Skylar. Hearing a noise and staring into Marcus Plummer’s dark eyes before he smashed my head against my car door.
I lift my arm and rub my temple, feeling the bandage, proof that last night did happen, that it wasn’t just a nightmare and I’d wake up in Drew’s arms. But that’s no longer a possibility. I prop myself up, the pain from the bruising and scratches on my back not as overpowering as when I first regained consciousness.
After Drew forced his way into my hospital room, all I wanted to do was go home and pretend the last week never happened, but the doctor wouldn’t allow it. Concerned about the severity of the concussion I’d received, he refused to discharge me, keeping me under observation overnight. I’ve insisted I’m fine, that the dizziness, inability to stand, and bouts of nausea rolling over me are the result of having my trust betrayed yet again. But they won’t listen. Maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. There’s nothing waiting for me at home. Only memories of the one man who’s done nothing but hurt me and the one man who will do anything for me…the one I betrayed.
I almost expected Molly to force her way into my hospital room, much like her brother did. But she didn’t. The only people who seem concerned about my wellbeing have been my father and his girlfriend, Ana. I’m not sure how to process the fact that my own best friend hasn’t come to visit. Then again, it shouldn’t surprise me. When I started this thing with Drew, I knew it carried certain risks. Now I’m not only forced to bid farewell to my adolescent dream of marrying my best friend’s brother, I’ve also lost my best friend.
My mouth parched from the dry air in this place, I grab the water on the side table. As I take a sip, my door opens, a familiar, tall figure standing in the doorway, out of breath, eyes wide with worry.
“Oh, Jesus…” Wes rushes toward me, kneeling on the floor next to my bed. He takes my hand in his, peppering kisses along my knuckles. “This is all my fault. I shouldn’t have left you.”
“Wes,” I say through a scratchy throat, trying to get his attention. The sympathy and compassion he has for me is too much. I don’t deserve it. Not after how quickly I sought out the arms of another man when the wheels of his plane hadn’t yet left the ground.
“I’m going to talk to the prosecutor’s office and make sure that bastard gets the maximum sentence. Is what your dad told me true? That the guy’s connected to one of the cases where you recommended a termination of parental rights? That he’s involved in trafficking women and children?”
I subtly nod.
Wes brings himself to his feet, pacing, running his hands through his hair. He looks weary, exhausted. His jaw is scruffy from not shaving, his clothes disheveled and crumpled. He probably came straight here after landing. He wasn’t supposed to leave Dubai for another few days. No man I’ve ever dated would get on a plane and fly over twelve hours just to see me, make sure I’m okay. It makes my stomach sour even more over what I’ve done.
Feeling like I’m about to be sick, I reach for the bucket the nurses left by my side for just such an occasion and retch into it. Wes is beside me instantly, rubbing my back. It only makes the pain worse. Noticing my discomfort, he removes his hand as I place the bucket on the floor. Without saying a word, his gaze shifts to my back. I don’t stop him when he raises my hospital gown so he can see what caused me so much agony. When his eyes fall on the bruising and cuts marring my skin, he chokes out a sob.
“You’re not going back to work. Not after this.”
“Wes…,” I say.
“Shh…” He presses a finger against my lips, silencing me. “Let me take care of you.”
“Wes,” I protest again. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
He pulls back, peering at me. He shakes his head. “It doesn’t matter. All that does is that you’re okay.” He brings his lips to the bandage cover
ing the stitches on my forehead, kissing me sweetly. “Rest, my sweet, sweet Brooklyn.” He brushes my greasy hair behind my ear, the gesture soothing, comforting, relaxing. “We’ll talk later. No matter what it is, I love you. No matter what.”
Tears spill over my eyelids, his tenderness like a punch in my gut. Mrs. Bradford was right. This man is too good for someone like me.
Wes helps me up the front steps of his house, one hand on the small of my back, the other clutching my arm. I don’t deserve all the attention he’s doting on me. Hell, I barely even remember agreeing to come home with him. He and my father didn’t think it wise I return to my house. Somehow, that translated to me staying with Wes. I suppose that’s the obvious choice from an outsider’s perspective.
There were so many times I opened my mouth, about to tell him everything, but my father constantly stood over his shoulder, eyeing me with suspicion and disapproval, an unspoken warning to stay quiet, making me think he knew about my indiscretions.
If he figured out the truth of what’s been going on between Drew and me, I can only imagine what he thinks of me, how disappointed he must be. I’ve lived my entire life doing everything to meet my father’s high expectations. That’s why I applied for the doctoral program I’m about to begin. I never wanted to take my education that far. I’m happy just working as a therapist. But I made the mistake of mentioning the next step professionally would be to get my PhD, then MD in Clinical Psychology. The next thing I knew, he started shoving brochures at me for programs in the area.
“Just rest in here,” Wes soothes as he leads me into the den, the only room of the house that doesn’t feel like it was designed to be featured in an architectural magazine, although it’s still a breathtaking space. He helps lower me to the plush leather couch, grabbing a blanket and draping it over my body. “Do you want some tea? Sushi? Anything? You name it and it’s yours.”
I hate the benevolence he’s bestowing upon me. I don’t deserve a single breath of it. “Wes, please,” I beg.