Chapter 32
brOOKE
Ihad to give it to military wives, and anyone else in this position–long distance was rough. The space between visits was an exercise in patience, a shuffle between practicing the art of distraction and creating countdown calendars anticipating our next time together.
January was busy with work, and I picked up extra shifts when I could. Keeping busy seemed to be the best way to make the time pass more quickly. I started volunteering at the local nursing home once a week, too, where I met a lovely octogenarian named Gloria.
Gloria loved listening to me talk about all the important people in my life—Whit and her design business, Owen’s amazing food, my mom’s recent promotion, how Ivy was learning to stand.
And of course, the incredibly hot surfer-firefighter with whom I was currently having a long-distance love affair, which Gloria deemed “juicy and romantic—even better than the movies.”
I found myself opening up to her more than I did to most strangers, probably because she was so grandmotherly and easy to talk to.
In exchange for my stories Gloria gave me all the latest gossip from the nursing home, including some very scandalous, soap-opera-worthy love triangles.
Some days we played Scrabble, and she beat me each time with her exceptional vocabulary.
I hoped I’d be half as cool as Gloria when I reached her age.
By February I had deemed myself Aunt Brooke, the official party-planner-extraordinaire for little Ivy Jane’s first birthday.
“One happy little camper” was the theme Whit and I chose, and I had a very detailed Pinterest board full of ideas.
The theme played on the idea of Ivy turning one, and I decided we’d be turning our tiny backyard into a camping oasis, making s’mores and other camping-themed snacks.
Hopefully the temperamental March weather would cooperate.
Whit put her graphic design skills to use designing the invitations and party decor. By the time Cade’s flight landed at the airport, everything was in place.
Cade arrived Saturday, and the party was scheduled for Sunday. He’d be flying back out a few hours after the party, so once again we had to make the most of our short visit. We spent the afternoon catching up with Whit, then Cade and I went out for dinner.
“I have a secret,” I confided across the table as we finished our meal. My hands were extended across the table and he held them, running his thumb across the back of one.
“Tell me,” he grinned. There was that dimple I’d fallen for so many years ago.
“It’s more something—I have to show you,” I explained, being purposefully coy.
“Consider me intrigued. Very intrigued.” He caught the waiter’s attention. “Check, please.”
“Have fun?” Whit asked as we entered the duplex after dinner.
“Mmhmm,” I confirmed, holding Cade’s hand in mine and grinning.
I loved that no matter how long we were apart, our connection was instant the moment we touched again.
Under different circumstances, I pictured us spending many nights in our sweats, relaxing on this couch, enjoying movie nights with Whit.
I sighed, once again wishing our situation was simpler.
Cade wrapped his arm around my shoulders, reaching down and ruffling Ivy’s soft hair. “Now I need to put Auntie Brooke to bed,” he told her. “She’s got a big party to throw tomorrow.”
He threw a wink to Whit, and we escaped down the hallway.
“So—you have a surprise for me?” he asked, as soon as we were shut inside my bedroom.
I nodded. “You have to find it, though.”
“I see—hm. I do like a good challenge.” He kissed my cheek, then lifted the hair off the back of my neck. “Back here?” he mused, kissing his way across my shoulders.
“Nu-uh,” I murmured, my skin already heating up.
He circled me fully, then faced me again. He brought me in for a deep kiss, tugging at the hem of my shirt. “Under here?”
I shook my head.
“Best to be sure,” he said seriously, and I giggled as he pulled my shirt over my head and dropped it beside us on the floor. He tapped his finger on his chin, walking around me in a circle again.
“So far, everything looks familiar,” he continued in his mock-serious tone. “Where, oh where, could my sweet Brooke be hiding something?”
I eyed him, toying with the button on my jeans suggestively.
“Last I checked, that—” he glanced down below my waist, “wasn’t a secret from me. Not anymore at least.”
His hands replaced mine as he took over, unbuttoning my jeans and sliding them down my hips and off my legs.
“Warmer,” I encouraged him, and his fingers found the sides of my underwear.
“Hot,” he confirmed, kissing me and sliding them off.
When they hit the floor, I watched his eyes, determined to catch his reaction as he saw it—on my hip bone, a colorful tattoo.
Two golden sunflowers with dark brown centers, side by side, nestled in a bed of leaves that spread out on either side.
The design was small enough to be mostly hidden under the bikini-style undies I favored, but it spread in height from my hipbone towards the crease of my upper thigh.
“Mm,” he whispered appreciatively. “Beautiful.” His eyes met mine. “What made you want to get this?”
“You reminded me to focus on pretty things,” I explained. “It helps me . . . when I feel down. Do you like it?” I felt momentarily unsure, standing exposed in front of him while he was still fully dressed.
He bent down and placed a kiss on the tattoo. Then he stood back up and reached for my hand, placing it on the front of his jeans where his growing erection now strained against the zipper.
“What do you think?” he asked devilishly.
His fingers touched under my chin, and his eyes met mine once again. He suddenly sobered.
“I love everything about you.”
His words activated something in me, and I couldn’t keep my hands off him a moment longer.
This man and his words. I tugged frantically, urging his clothes off.
I needed to touch him—everywhere—and have him touching me.
The room melted away as we found each other, frantic fingers and sloppy kisses, trying desperately to make up for so many weeks apart.
I couldn’t ever remember a time I felt such desperate need.
We used our bodies to tell each other how badly we’d missed each other. Our rhythmed movements felt like a musical score, rapidly increasing in pace until we reached a crescendo.
“More,” I begged him, “Now.”
I groaned as he slipped inside me, the feel of his skin against my skin. “Wait,” I gasped. In our rush we hadn’t rolled on a condom.
He quickly pulled back out and rolled one on his length. My heart sped back up as he began a steady rhythm, pleasing me the way only he knew how until we both fell over the edge.
As we came down from the high, I slipped quietly to the bathroom, my heart thudding furiously.
Panic swelled inside me as I returned to the bed. My mind was a runaway train, but Cade seemed his same composed self. I had an IUD, so I knew we were probably fine, but still . . .
I couldn’t meet his gaze. I needed time to process the huge step we’d just taken—a step we hadn’t even discussed. Was he really—completely—okay? Unable to sift through my anxious thoughts, I turned over and pretended to sleep.
Most of the night sleep evaded me, my mind twisting and forming new and more complicated patterns the longer the clock ticked by. I slipped out of bed before him the next morning, and left him sleeping.
The party the next day was awkward, at least between Cade and me.
I tried to focus on celebrating Ivy and on playing hostess to our guests.
But Cade could tell something wasn’t right, that I was shying away from his touch and avoiding meeting his eyes.
He tried to pull me aside several times, but I side-stepped him, engaging in conversation with one of our party guests, refilling drinks, or running inside for snacks.
The lack of sleep meant I was faking my way through the party even more than I would be typically, and my thoughts were a completely muddled mess.
I walked past my mom holding Ivy, and she motioned for me to stop and chat.
“It’s strange, but she looks so much like you at that age. The dark hair and eyes,” she murmured. “Just beautiful.”
I touched her elbow and forced a smile.
I busied myself refilling the snacks. A bit later I looked over and saw Ivy in Cade’s arms. She adored how playful he always was with her—he always made her giggle. My heart, which had been throbbing painfully all day, felt like it thudded even harder seeing the adorable picture they made together.
Suddenly instead of Ivy, I pictured a little girl that was the mirror image of Cade in his arms. I could so clearly see that for him, someday, but—I wasn’t sure it was with me who completed the picture with him.
It was too soon, right? To be sure? We’d known each other our whole lives, but this part of our relationship was still fresh. We lived on opposite sides of the country, for crying out loud. I shook my head, dislodging the mental images.
After the party guests left, Cade pulled me aside in the back yard. Owen was cleaning up the kitchen and Whit had slipped inside with Ivy, so it was just the two of us. Cade sought my eyes, his uncharacteristically serious.
“Brooke, tell me. Tell me what I did.” He looked nervous, so far removed from his usual confident demeanor.
“This all just feels like it’s moving really fast . . .” I looked around the yard, as if searching it for answers.
“What does? Our relationship? Babe—we haven’t seen each other in months. I know the setup isn’t ideal.” Frustration leached from his voice.
He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m going to figure something out. We’ll see each other more. I promise.” He reached for my hand, but I pulled it away.
“How, Cade?” I snapped, my mind spiraling into darkness. “We live on opposite coasts, three-freaking-thousand miles apart. If we continue trying to make this work, one of us is going to have to give up the life we’ve built.”
“The distance is hard,” he agreed. “But I know we can do it. Just for a little while longer. I’m going to try to—”
“It isn’t just that,” I insisted, cutting him off. My voice grew stronger. “You should be with someone healthy. Someone who isn’t—broken . . .”
Shoulders slumped, I cast my eyes down to the grass.
“Brooke, stop. I don’t want someone ‘healthy’! I want you!” His voice was still low in volume, but his chest was heaving, his fingers flying into angry air quotes, and his eyes full of fire like they’d been at the reunion.
He began to pace the yard, then stopped in front of me again.
“Is this about last night? Look, it wasn’t planned. We got carried away. But nothing with you scares me, Brooke. Whatever happens, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here. Don’t you know that by now?”
“You’re the one who doesn’t get it.”
“Then help me! Help me get it!”
The tears running freely down my face were my only reply.
“Don’t do this again, Brooke. Don’t shut me out.
Please.” He held my hands in his, and I finally met his gaze.
I could feel him searching my eyes for answers.
“I know I’m not the only one who feels this—connection between us.
I know you might be scared, but you don’t have to push me away. We can figure it out . . .”
He trailed off, and my mind was already lost to its spiral.
I couldn’t form the words. The best thing in my life was imploding, and all I could do was stare at him, my mind muddled and my expression blank.
Why did my brain so often abandon me at times like these?
Why couldn’t I just communicate, like an adult?
It was like a mental wall had formed between my brain and my mouth.
I wanted to speak, but I felt like I literally couldn’t form the words.
I continued mentally berating myself, but the words stayed imprisoned inside me.
“Brooke—” he pleaded. This man I loved was literally begging me to explain myself.
I reached out and pulled him to me in a tight hug, which he reciprocated, but still—the words wouldn’t come.
He held me for a few moments, then slowly stepped away, searching my face.
His absence made me ache. The world around us felt fuzzy, like we were living in a dreamlike state.
My head swam, the night of lost sleep adding to the feeling of helplessness.
Could this all be a bad dream? Would I wake up and everything would be fine?
Cade opened his mouth several times as if to speak, but no words came out. After several minutes, he met my eyes and kissed my forehead, then slipped into the house.
A few minutes later he returned, carrying his duffel. He found me still standing listlessly in the yard, staring off at nothing.
“Owen said he could drop me at the airport. I can’t miss my flight. I don’t think—you’re not in any state to drive right now.”
I shook my head, tears rolling down my cheeks. Even when I was pushing him away, he was still concerned with my well-being. He leaned in and kissed my forehead once more.
“I’ll text you when I land, okay? I love you. Brooke? I love you.”
I watched him walk away.