Chapter 5
CADE
Islumped back into my chair at the table.
For a few minutes, dancing with Brooke, it was like we were back there, slow dancing at prom—before all those moments and all those miles separated us.
How different would our lives have been if I’d made a different choice just weeks after that prom?
Would we both still be in Vermont? Would she still be in my life?
As I watched him hold her, sway her, watched her smile up at him, I felt my muscles tense, my mind rolling over details and becoming more and more irrationally angry. She’s not yours, I reminded myself a third time.
I’d always felt protective of Brooke. She’d always been strong and confident, able to stand on her own two feet.
But I’d also always been there to defend her, to bandage her wounds, to wipe her tears.
It might’ve been five years since I’d laid eyes on her, but that didn’t change the protectiveness I felt as I watched her.
All night I’d searched for the typical Brooke fire to alight in her eyes, the competitor I’d seen on the volleyball court taking her team to victory.
Instead, she’d seemed tired, resigned, her shoulders slumping just a bit more as the night wore on.
She didn’t look like the victor—she looked defeated.
And the worst part was, her fiancé didn’t even seem to notice. He clearly didn’t even know her. How could she get engaged to a man who didn’t know she loved sunflowers, or that she dreamed of seeing the wildlife in Africa? The more I stared at them, the more my blood began to boil.
She deserves better.
No way would I sit idly by while she married this guy who, quite frankly, seemed like a self-important, rich douchebag. What did Brooke even see in him?
As the song ended, I watched as he leaned down to say something in her ear, then stepped away. I saw my opening and hopped up, quieting the inner voice warning me that this was actually a terrible idea. As she left the dance floor, I pulled her aside to a quiet corner.
“What are you doing, Brooke?”
She reared back as if I’d slapped her. She’d never been one to shy away when I challenged her. She’d always met me punch for verbal punch. But now . . . she just stared blankly at me, until I continued.
“How long has he known you, a MONTH?” I accused, gesturing wildly towards the exit where he’d left, probably to get their coats and their valet ticket.
I was making a scene. I tried to remind myself that this was not how I’d planned to approach her after all these years, but this guy and his smug attitude had left me seeing red.
“Six months!” She emphasized six, like that was so much better than what I’d suggested.
“Six months!” I raised my voice slightly, my irritation growing. “Six months! Jeezum Crow, Brooke, it took you six months to name your goldfish!” She caught my eye at the familiar Vermonter swear, and for a moment she was transported back to the young Brooke I used to know.
It was gone in a flicker.
She set her jaw in a grim line. “Well, I’ve grown up. I’m 23 years old, and I am old enough to know what I want,” she told me indignantly, but instead of fire blazing in her eyes, I saw some of the fight already draining out of her. I’d known her a decade—this wasn’t her.
Something was definitely going on with Brooke.
Let it go, I chided myself.
I didn’t listen.
“And him?” I continued, barreling down my disastrous chosen path. “He’s who you want? He’s the perfect man for you?” I practically spat the words. I sounded jealous and insecure, but I couldn’t stop the words tumbling from my mouth.
Finally, a bit of a spark ignited behind her eyes.
“Who said anything about perfect?” she snapped back. “I love Brock and he loves me. And more than that, he’ll take care of me, alright?”
Her words stunned me.
“The Brooke I knew didn’t need anyone to take care of her. She was more than capable of taking care of herself.”
Expecting another retort, I was shocked—and subsequently devastated—at the tears I saw well up in her eyes.
“Yeah well, that Brooke is gone, okay? She’s gone.
I’m not some volleyball-captain teenager who makes straight A’s and can’t stop dreaming about wildlife in Africa.
” Her shoulders slumped like she was drawing in on herself.
She shook her head at me sadly. “You don’t get it, Cade.
I’m tired. I’m so, so tired.” Her eyes were glued to the floor.
My voice went soft. “Why, Brooke? Why are you so tired?”
Her posture stiffened suddenly, the emotion wiped from her face. “It’s nothing.”
“It’s not nothing,” I cupped her elbow gently, willing her to meet my eyes again.
Her eyes slowly rose, and she caught sight of something above my shoulder.
“I have to go,” she mumbled, brushing past me.
I watched her walk towards Brock, who slipped a jacket over her shoulders and ushered her outside. I watched her silhouette disappear into the darkness.
And my heart crumbled.
I’d had five years to prepare for this moment—and I had royally fucked it up.