Chapter 13 #2
My heart drops. He’s been careful not to touch me this week, and I’ve never missed it more than I do right now. Feeling his arms around me had quickly become the best part of my day, and the absence of that connection aches worse than ever now.
I shake my head, grimacing. “It doesn’t matter.
I have a social media manager. I don’t even check it anymore.
Now that I’m not working, I’ll probably delete all my accounts.
”That doesn’t mean I’ll forget the things I used to read daily, mostly from men, crudely wondering how the apple fell so far from the tree.
“I really try not to be insecure, and I swear I like myself, but sometimes it hits me how little I know about girl stuff. It’s not like I have a sister, or girlfriends, or—or a mom.
” My voice cracks on the last word, and I can’t look at him. I’m too embarrassed.
For god’s sake. I wanted to seduce the hell out of this man, not make him feel sorry for me.
Barely five seconds pass before warm hands wrap loosely around my arms, and Brooks pulls me into a tight hug.
My eyes burn, but almost immediately, the tension drains from my body.
I needed this so badly.I bury my face in his neck, greedily inhaling his woodsy, masculine Brooks scent and when his lips press against my temple, I could swear he trembles.
“Come on,” he mumbles, drawing away from me just as quickly. “Let me take you to meet Phoebe. I promise you’ll like her. Just trust me, okay?”
While she and Brooks are so different that it’s hard to believe they’re from the same family, Phoebe Harrison-Nichols quickly proves herself to be just as awesome as her brother.
Where Brooks is reserved and quiet, Phoebe is outgoing and charming.
She has a kind word for every single person and makes you feel like you’re her best friend within the first five minutes of meeting her.
It should seem fake or forced, but it doesn’t.
Brooks clearly tipped her off we were coming because Phoebe didn’t seem the least bit surprised to see us at her workplace, just greets me with a warm hug and a flurry of questions about my new retirement.
The salon, which I learn she’s working towards buying—though she glares at Brooks when he mildly suggests giving her a loan to help—is trendy and bustling with activity.
We end up sitting in her office for over an hour talking, but the day takes a turn when I mention scheduling an appointment for a haircut on my way out.
Before I know it, I’m being shepherded into a salon chair and Brooks—who had long since stopped contributing to the conversation and was clearly tired of us—mumbles something about the bookstore before disappearing.
Phoebe, to her credit, waits for her brother to be gone before leaning in to ask conspiratorially, “So, what’s going on there? Elliot told me you’re living with him? ”
I wince. “We’re just friends. Kind of. It’s… complicated.”
“I’ll say.” Phoebe laughs, standing behind me to fiddle with my hair, and our eyes meet in the mirror. “So, are you just friends because my brother doesn’t know what’s good for him or because you’re not interested?”
I’ve never talked to anyone about this, and I hadn’t realized how badly I needed to until I’m spilling everything to Phoebe as she cuts my hair.
She’s his sister. I expect her to be on his side, but that’s not the case.
On the contrary, there are a lot of outraged gasps and disapproving head shakes as the conversation progresses.
“He’s crazy about you, Delta,” Phoebe concludes as she sets down her hairdryer.
“I could tell the other day when we met at his office, and it’s still there today.
I’ve never seen Brooks look at anyone like that,” she sighs, a little misty-eyed.
“You’re probably thinking of packing it in because he’s impossible and probably a bit of a clueless asshole, but hang in there.
He can only keep this up for so long. Brooks is the best person in the world, but you have to get through about twenty levels of ironclad defenses before he lets you see it. ”
She’s not wrong. I know he’s the best person in the world.
I stare at my reflection. I told Phoebe to use her best judgement, and she did.
My light brown hair now hangs in neat layers, somehow effortless and put together at the same time.
I feel so pretty. “Thank you so much, Phoebe. I love it.” I smile at her in the mirror, my heart lighter from the talk and mini makeover.
“Has he already blown it?” she asks, worry coloring her tone.
Has he? I’m not sure. It occurs to me, though, that this time I might not be bouncing back as effortlessly as I usually do from a setback.
Apparently, my threshold for emotional pain isn’t quite as high as it is for physical.
“I’m not sure,” I admit, fingering the ends of my new haircut.
“I think I might be a little scared to push it. He made it clear he doesn’t want me.
I don’t know if I can stand hearing it again. ”
Phoebe undoes the snaps holding together the hairdressing smock, and when I get to my feet, she pulls me into a tight hug.
“Why don’t you come see me on Friday? I’ll take you to lunch,” she suggests when we break apart.
“I swear it’s only thirty percent a bribe to get you to watch the boys after school for me. ”
We both laugh, just as a cool, gruff voice cuts through the chatter of the salon. “Ready to go?” Turning, I find Brooks standing off to the side, snow dusting the shoulders of his wool coat, watching the pair of us with as inscrutable an expression as ever.
I nod, moving toward him, but Phoebe calls out, “What do you think, Brooks? Doesn’t she look great?”
My steps falter, and I’m struck by the same sensation that always seems to grip me in the seconds before a fall. My body locks up, bracing for impact.
Judging by the flash of regret across his handsome face, Brooks didn’t miss it.
“I’ll see you Friday, Phoebe! Thank you!” I call over my shoulder, moving past him to the door before he can answer his sister’s question, hating that he can shatter the way I feel about myself with a single dismissive word.
Outside, snow is swirling, and Christmas lights sparkle from every store window.
It’s my favorite time of year, but I don’t stop to admire any of it as I march down the sidewalk to where the car is parked, pulling my coat tighter against the cold.
Brooks was right. I did like Phoebe, but the last hour I spent with her made me realize how much I ached for someone I can talk to, someone I can really talk to.
Stopping at the car, I lean against the passenger door, staring down at the sidewalk.
I only realize Brooks has followed when a pair of black boots stop right in front of me.
I let out a long breath, steeling myself.
“Delta.” His voice is quiet and strained.
“You look so beautiful. You always are, but right now especially.” My eyes burn, but still, I keep them glued to the ground, not daring to meet his gaze.
“I’m so sorry, Delta. I’ve been such an asshole, I’m so fucking terrible at this.
I never meant—the other night, and in the exam room.
You have to know you take my breath away on an hourly basis.
I can’t—I can’t get through two minutes without thinking about you.
I’m the problem here, not you, and not what I feel for you. ”
My answering laugh is short and humorless. “I know I’m younger than you, but I have heard the ‘ it’s not you, it’s me’ cliché before, Brooks.”
Slowly, like he’s giving me every opportunity to make a run for it, the boots step closer to me and a warm hand nudges my chin up to meet his warm, blazing eyes.
“I don’t want you to resent me for not being able to give you the life you want,” he whispers, voice rough with emotion.
“It would kill me, Delta. Please understand.”
That’s why he won’t let himself do this? Not because of how we met or my age, but because he believes I would resent him?
My head spins. “Brooks, why would you think that?”
His throat bobs. “Look at the snowboarding. You did it, you were the best at it , even though it was hurting you. You damaged your body, you took drugs, you would have done anything because you thought it was right. I’m not the best thing for you, and someday you’d realize that.
I won’t be the next thing you tear yourself apart for. ”