Chapter 13
DELTA
I f there was an Olympic event for avoidance, Brooks Harrison would be a gold medalist many times over.
It’s been a week since the night on the deck, seven days of conversations engineered to be as unarousing as possible—Friday night’s dinner was accompanied by a lecture on compound fractures—and Brooks doing everything possible to not be left alone with me.
Yesterday, Saturday, would have been our first full day together since I was in the hospital.
I’d practically skipped out of bed, brimming with ideas on how to break his avoidance streak and provoke him into action, only to discover Brooks had invited Lake and Bay over to help him install a doggy drinking fountain.
The installation process took a turn for the worse—not surprising considering two professional snowboarders plus one orthopedic surgeon do not equal one plumber—and I spent most of the day grooming the dogs while the men in my life pumped water out of Brooks’ flooded basement.
I’m sure he expected me to be wounded and resentful, or maybe even avoid him right back. That’s how most women would react to being flat-out rejected by the man they’re in love with.
Don’t get me wrong, it sucked. I was hurt.
Then, just like I’ve been doing my entire life, I dusted myself off and planned my next attack.
I might be young, but I’m not na?ve. I’m not the same seventeen-year-old girl who took one look at Brooks Harrison and knew he was the only man for me.
I know what I want, I know what I’m doing, and now I know for sure this connection isn’t one-sided.
I might have doubted before, so wrapped up in my shit that I missed what was right in front of me, but that night confirmed what I think I’ve known for a while.
He wants me, he might even love me as much as I love him, but Doctor Brooks Harrison is also a neurotic, type-A nutcase who can’t stand stepping off the beaten trail even for a second.
Falling for someone so much younger than him, his patient, must be eating him up inside.
This is a man who wouldn’t let me use the new toaster until he read the instruction booklet that came with it from cover to cover.
I’m not sure what he’s telling himself to justify pushing me away, or what it’s going to take to show him how wrong it is, but suddenly I have nothing but time to figure it out.
The trouble for poor Brooks is that the someone he wants is me. I’ve spent my whole life falling and getting back up. I’ve battered my body, broken my own heart, and pieced it all back together again.
I can do anything.
Even convince the stubborn doctor we’re meant to be together.
“Good morning!” Brooks stops short on the second to last stair, staring blankly at where I’m standing at the kitchen island, cracking eggs into a pan. It’s only six. He didn’t expect me to be up this early, and now his plan to avoid me is foiled.
Oops .
“Good morning.” He starts moving again, carefully averting his gaze as he sorts through the pile of mail I left on the table.
I bite back a smile, taking the opportunity to appreciate how good he looks in gym shorts and a fitted white t-shirt. “Coffee’s fresh.”
Brooks makes a noncommittal noise, examining a pamphlet for driveway sealing a little too intensely.
“Want a breakfast burrito? I put kale in them. Super healthy, but it doesn’t taste like it.
” Sticking to Dad’s insane performance-enhancing diets was how I got into cooking.
There’s only so many times you can eat steamed veggies and dry chicken before you start actively hallucinating about cheeseburgers.
Now, with more time on my hands, I’ve started inventing my own recipes.
It’s fun and I like the challenge, but more than that, I love that I’m taking care of him in some small way.
Brooks hesitates, and I keep my eyes on the pan, pretending I don’t feel the weight of his gaze on me.
“Sure. Thank you.” He finally agrees, moving over to the kitchen counter to pour himself a cup of coffee.
I choose that moment to “drop” a dish towel, and when I bend over to get it, I hear the distinct sound of liquid overflowing from a mug, followed by a low curse.
“What are you— I mean— where are you going?” he asks when I straighten up, mopping up the spill and obviously taking a stab at the same nonchalance I’m employing, as if everything is completely normal between us.
“Oh!” I glance down at myself like I’d forgotten what I was wearing.
It’s nothing over the top, just a pair of jeans that make my butt look fantastic—hence strategic towel-dropping—and a soft white sweater, much nicer than the oversized t-shirt and leggings I usually wear in the morning.
“I’m having coffee with my agent in an hour.
She’s been getting a lot of job offers for me and I figured I should hear them out.
I can’t be a stay-at-home dog mom forever.
” I reach down and scratch my always-present shadow, Tibia, behind her ear.
Brooks isn’t amused. “Shouldn’t you wait until after we figure out the next steps for your hip? Your appointment with Jenna isn’t until after Christmas.”
I wasn’t excited about being treated by the guy my dad requested to reevaluate my medical suspension, and Brooks’ less-than-approving scowl when I brought him up sealed the deal.
My first choice in doctor is obviously the grumpy grunter himself, but the last thing I wanted was to hand Brooks his legal objection shield of power back.
He didn’t suggest that either, but did mention bringing one of his partners up to date on my case. Hell yeah.
I shrug. “It couldn’t hurt to find out what’s out there. I need to get a job.” I flip the eggs off the pan on the waiting tortilla. “Besides, retirement is boring. There is only so much cooking I can do before we both explode. That would be a pretty sweet way to go, though.”
Brooks chuckles, and for the first time since the hot tub incident, he’s suddenly looking at me directly. “I might have something for you. It’s not snowboarding related.”
I blink in surprise. “Oh?” Something not snowboarding- related sounds ideal. I still haven’t spoken to my father, and there’s nowhere in the industry where he doesn’t have pull.
It’s been weird being removed from that world.
On my second day here, Brooks showed me the shelves in the garage where Lake had stashed all my snowboarding stuff.
It was all there, my boards, my favorite pair of neon-pink goggles that an equipment company designed just for me, three full bins of snow pants, jackets, helmets and gloves, and every award I’d ever won.
My gold medal is in there somewhere, but I’ve made no effort to dig it out.
I wish he’d left it all at Dad’s. God knows it all means more to him than it ever did to me.
“Delta?”
I smile apologetically, turning my eyes to the burritos. “Sorry. Go on, you were saying something about a job?”
“My sister, Phoebe? She manages a spa downtown. I was speaking to her yesterday, and she told me their after-school babysitter fell through unexpectedly. She’s been setting the boys up in her office.
Not ideal, believe it or not. It’s only for a few hours every night during the week, more over winter break. ”
“Oh.” I bite my lip, buying myself time to think about it as I slide Brooks’ breakfast onto a plate and pass it over to him. “I’m not sure she’d want me for that.”
I don’t have a ton of experience with kids, but if I’m honest with myself, my biggest hold-up is the fact that Phoebe kind of intimidates me.
She’s gorgeous and perfect, and she makes other women look gorgeous and perfect for a living.
Meanwhile, I gave myself my last haircut in the bathroom mirror, and wearing jeans that fit correctly is my version of making an effort.
I was raised by a single father and I have two older brothers.
I wasn’t exactly getting lessons on how to get my eyeliner to do that fancy swoop thing.
I’ve heard myself called beautiful, and I can see my attractiveness in an objective, matter-of-fact kind of way, but I’m not sure I’ve ever felt it .
Except maybe those few minutes when I was sitting on that exam table, and my orthopedic surgeon looked like he wanted to eat me alive.
Admittedly, the subsequent rejections might be playing into my sudden body image issues.
Brooks makes no move to start eating. “If you’re not interested, that’s fine, but the boys would love you. They’re wild, but I suspect you can handle it.”
I turn to put the pan in the sink, all the triumph I’d gained from successfully disarming Brooks, draining away. I can feel him looking at me, knowing he’s struggling to understand my obvious mood shift.
A babysitting gig doesn’t sound bad. Playing games and doing arts and crafts sounds like exactly the kind of low-stress job I need, but I still hesitate.
“I might be a little intimidated by your sister,” I admit, heat crawling up my neck and cheeks.
“I’m sure she’s nice, but would she? I don’t know…
” My words trail away as I play self-consciously with the ends of my hair.
Admitting insecurity isn’t something I have a lot of experience in.
Twenty years of being trained to show no weakness has made expressing how I feel about as easy as pulling teeth.
Brooks told me to be direct, though, if I want him to understand how I’m feeling, I have to say it.
He doesn’t move, waiting patiently for me to gather my thoughts, and my heart squeezes with affection for him.
“My mom was a bikini model,” I tell him, a little sheepishly. “The whole world knows that. I don’t think I’m ugly or anything, but she was beautiful, you know? Like, stunning . There have been… comments. Online mostly.”
“Comments?” Brooks demands, and despite his cool, controlled tone, I can sense an underlying fury.