Chapter 13 #2
Again, something I’d not been before—not with any woman I’d ever wanted sexually at least. Even as I had the thought, I understood it was far more than sex with Brooke. It was just a driving want to be with her.
“Thank you, Brooke, for accepting my invitation to stay here tonight,” I whispered against her lips because I liked to mimic her words. “And for giving me the chance to deserve you whenever you’re ready,” I added before stealing another kiss.
The conversation we had before saying goodnight was pretty damn surreal when I stopped to think about the topic—to fuck or not to fuck. The contrast between how strange, and how normal it felt to discuss with her was starting to mess with my head.
No, not true.
My head had been messed up from the moment she first spoke to me.
H er crying woke me sometime later. Once I figured out what I was hearing, I listened in like a voyeur, imagining the reasons she was plagued by terrible grief.
A shout of anguish so great it gave me pain just hearing it, cut a path straight into my heart. Then softer sounds of crying followed, burrowing underneath my skin until I couldn’t take it another second.
I bolted out of bed and threw on the sweats I’d worn earlier. And then I went into her room and scooped her up into my arms. She didn’t even protest when I carried her across the hall and put her into my bed. Or when I crawled in next to her and pulled her against my body.
She just cried. And let me hold her and run my fingers over her hair.
It was the most natural thing in the world, and so I just went with it, figuring she would start talking if she wanted to.
“I dreamed of the accident. I never have before...that I can remember,” she said eventually.
“Tell me about your husband.”
“It’s not a nice story. I don’t think you’ll want to hear it because you won’t feel good afterward.”
“But I want to comfort you. Help you feel better. Will talking about it help, Brooke?” I breathed in the flowery scent of her hair and focused on the sensation of having her against me.
“It will probably help me to feel better, but not you,” she said.
“How can you know that?”
“I know, Caleb. What you said at dinner about my aura of sadness is correct. It’s there with me.
I’ve learned that being honest and open about the reasons for it is what works for me.
I don’t keep it a secret. People know what happened to me, and I am sure they feel very sorry for my pain.
It’s a totally normal response for them to feel that way.
But it doesn’t help me to deal with my sadness any easier.
It’s just something that’s with me now and I’ve learned to embrace it, and I’ve also learned how hearing the story of my loss is uncomfortable for most people. I don’t want to do that to you.”
“You won’t be doing anything to me, Brooke. Why don’t you want to tell me?”
“Because I like you very much.”
“I like you very much, too, and I’m here to listen if you feel like talking about it.” I kissed her forehead and just held her, grateful she allowed me.
In time she started to tell me her story...
“The last words I remember saying to him were, ‘Marcus, you’re drunk—let me drive.’ A punishing grip to my chin and throat came immediately after my comment.
‘Don’t,’ was all he said to me. Don’t was the last word Marcus ever spoke to me.
It was all he needed to say. The rest of his cruel message was written in his pale blue eyes that had always looked gray to me.
My punishment would come once we were out of sight from the prying eyes of his family, and the few compassionate souls who knew of his perverse mind fucking, but were powerless to do anything to help me. ”
A chill settled on me as I grappled with what she might say next.
“It would be more of an emotional punishment than a physical one, because that was just how Marcus was. He never beat me outright, but he loved to scare me, and make me frightened of what he might do. When I went to put on my seat belt, he blocked my hand, forcing me to leave it off. He did it to make me afraid, because he knew I didn’t trust his driving, and because it was putting the baby at risk.
My first punishment for the night. But it turned out to be a gift instead.
The last good thing he ever gave me. It ended up being my ticket to freedom. ”
No...
“I didn’t even see what caused the crash because I’d closed my eyes as soon as he drove away.
I never knew whatever it was that caused him to veer off the road, nor did I hear anything other than the excruciating loud music he put on.
I’d closed my eyes and willed it all away because that was how I conquered my fear. ”
I held her a bit tighter.
“That’s all I remember before I woke up in hospital three weeks later.
My injuries had nearly healed completely by the time I woke from my coma—a badly lacerated right knee and calf, and also cuts to the right side of my head at the hairline as I was ejected from the car upon impact.
Marcus was wearing his seat belt, so he remained in the car as it exploded and burned. ”
Just like the vile fucker deserved.
“When the doctor told me my husband had died in the accident, I wept deeply as one would expect. When that same doctor held my hand comfortingly and told me the severe blow I’d suffered as I was ejected from the car had brought on preterm labor they were unable to stop—and impossible to prevent the birth of my baby daughter at only twenty-three weeks gestation.
Not enough development time to survive outside of my womb, he said.
Her little life was over before it ever began.
I cried even harder and longer for her loss, but inside me I felt the most intense relief.
I rejoiced that she had escaped what would have been a hellish nightmare for being born into that evil family.
I wouldn’t have been able to protect her, and that would have killed me slowly bit by bit.
The fact I’d lost Marcus’s baby was the only reason his family let me go.
If I’d managed to stay pregnant, then I would have been bound forever—inescapably owned by a family of criminals to whom blood meant everything.
I owed my baby thanks for her gift to me even more so than her father.
She made it possible for me to start over. ”
She’s been through so much. Too much.
“So I stayed in California for another six months, recovering. Physically I was fine, but I needed some time before I was ready to come back. I didn’t want to face the many expressions of sorrow and the heartfelt condolences for my loss when it had really been my only way of escaping the hell I’d been in for a year.
I couldn’t tell them that I’d hated my sociopathic husband who’d impregnated me against my wishes when I was barely twenty-two years old.
” She burrowed her face into the crook of my neck and shoulder, and sighed deeply as if she was breathing me in.
“That—that’s all I can talk about tonight,” she said.
“It takes me back there and I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward now, Caleb.”
So do I. I had been holding my breath listening to her story, and now needed air. For breathing—so I didn’t asphyxiate.
Holy fucking shit was about the extent of my immediate reaction to what she’d just shared.
“I am so sorry, Brooke. I hardly know what to say.” And I didn’t.
Christ, what a harrowing journey she’d been on in her short life.
I could barely process all she’d just told me, let alone imagine how she managed to hold herself together most days.
Brooke had certainly been dealt a shit hand of cards in losing her parents at fifteen, and then this—this—ordeal she’d endured, and for which there were no motherfucking words.
“There isn’t much to say, Caleb, and anyway, I feel your sympathy and that’s enough,” she said softly.
“Was your grandmother’s surgery the reason you came back to Boston?” I doubted there was much to have brought her back here otherwise.
“Yes. Actually, I think it was Nan’s terrible worry for me that led to her fall down the cellar steps in the first place.
She wasn’t even notified I’d been in a coma.
Nan didn’t know anything until after it was over.
After the fall she needed me, and so it was time to come home to the island.
Having a purpose has helped me so very much.
Coming back here five months ago was the very best thing I could have ever done.
It is healing me back into my former self.
I’m not a sad person, Caleb, I’ve just had some very sad things happen to me.
I love my job, and I love my cottage on the island, and I love my. ..friends.”
“Brooke?”
“Yes?”
“I am so fucking glad you came back home.”
“Me too, Caleb.”
We stayed close in the bed for a while. Quiet and just breathing in and out. Peaceful.
“Caleb, I want to ask you something,” she whispered.
“Okay.”
“My story—now that you’ve heard it, do you still want to be with me?”
I held her a little closer and kissed the top of her head.
“Yes, Brooke, I want to be with you more than you can imagine.” I want to be the one to make you forget him.
I want to be the one who loves you how you should have been loved in the first place.
To make you feel safe, adored, cherished.
“The harrowing story you’ve just told me changes nothing about what I think or feel.
If anything, I am in awe of you. You are brave. Very, very brave, Brooke Casterley.”
“You are a wonderful man with a generous heart, Caleb Blackstone, and don’t let anyone ever make you feel otherwise.” Then she sighed deeply and detached herself from me with a small, sexy moan.
Fuck! She was going to leave my room and go back to her bed now. I didn’t want her to go because I wanted to sleep with her in my arms for the rest of the night. Hell, I needed it after the terrifying tale she’d just told me.
Her second question surprised me. “Would you mind if I used your shower? I just need to clear my head and I think the hot water will help.”
“Please do whatever will make you feel better,” I said, mentally castrating myself in advance for all of the filthy dirty thoughts I was going to have about her once she was wet and naked in my shower. My cock would suffer, but it would survive being denied.
“Thank you,” she said softly as she left my bed and padded toward the bathroom.
The light came on and then a few seconds later, the water. It took a moment for me to realize she’d left the door wide open. I could see everything as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror, completely still and staring back out at me using the mirror’s reflection.
Holy. Fucking. Hell. She wanted me to see her. Me. Her. No one had ever so gently and yet confidently offered themselves to me. She wasn’t using me. She wanted me. She wanted me to want her. I would never forget this for as long as I lived. It was all for me. For me .
I knew why she did it, too.
Brooke did it to let me know she wanted me the same way I wanted her. Fuck. Me .
If I am lucky enough to live a long life, I will always remember how absolutely fucking beautiful she was when she stripped in my doorway—backlit in soft white light—just so I could watch every graceful movement.
..as her clothes fell away to reveal the most perfect vision in the world. Her. Naked. Mine .