11. Roots and Wings
11
ROOTS AND WINGS
MAISY
By the time I left Orion tonight, my brain was mush and my limbs had all the grace of limp noodles. I climbed the stairs to my apartment, mentally packing for the weekend trip to Holly Creek, when the scents hit me first.
Lavender and sandalwood and something else.
My door creaked open to soft music—something acoustic, mellow—and the flickering glow of scented candles lined the kitchen counter. A trail of flower soft pink petals, real ones by the look of it, led from the entry to the bathroom.
“Uh... Sophie?” I called out, cautious. Was she entertaining a male friend for the evening or needing ‘self-care’ and I missed the text to stay away for a few hours?
Her head popped out from the kitchen doorway, mischief dancing in her eyes. “Don’t freak out. This was all Brooks. I just… assisted. He texted Chelsea, who gave him my number. Then he texted me and had supplies delivered. I followed his instructions to a T. He wanted you to come home to something that didn’t smell like lab equipment and stress.”
I blinked, stunned. “He did all this?”
“I think this might explain it all.” She handed me a sleek blue envelope with the Bellamy Design Group logo embossed on a silver foil sticker. I flipped it open and read:
Maisy,
As your ‘life coach,’ I hate to see your cortisol levels spiking. This is a scientifically backed intervention. Candles, carbs, hot water, scented suds. A sexy little toy for self-care should the mood strike. You’re welcome. This is entirely professional and project-motivated, of course. Just doing my part to ensure Orion’s best brain doesn’t combust.
—B
I laughed—heartily, deeply—and Sophie grinned.
“He said you’d be mad if he hovered in person, but you needed this. So, bath’s drawn. Soup is on the stove and smells so good, gourmet roasted cauliflower and goat cheese, yum. And I’ll be at Rex and Chelsea’s city apartment watching a move so you can have the place all to yourself for a little while.”
Tears threatened my eyes. This wasn’t just sweet. It was… attentive, like he listened to every word I said. Every detail was intentional, no expense spared. Scientific and emotional and utterly... Brooks.
“Text him I said thank you,” I whispered.
She cocked her head. “I think you should text him yourself. Maybe while you’re in the bath enjoying that new little toy he sent over.”
“Oh, you are so naughty.” I swatted her arm as she gathered her coat and purse to leave.
“I’ll see you later. And when I get back, you better be Zen and glowing. Ta Ta.” Sophie wiggled her fingers in a wave.
I smiled as the door shut behind her. In the kitchen,I took a sip of the soup—delicious, of course—and turned off the burner for now. I stepped into the bathroom, shrugged off the day, and sank into the warm water—with lavender steam rising.
I lifted my red-painted toes above the tub’s edge—just enough leg to stay professional—and snapped a photo. I texted it to him and simply said ‘thank you.’ Then I turned my phone off.
I grinned, reading Brooks’ note again, then set it on the edge of the tub like the sign of a promise.
Of what? More of this special treatment to come?
Could things have been this good between us had I never stepped foot on that ship?
What if I’d have said yes when he asked me to marry him, even with his desperate-sounding proposal?
How could I forget the entire week after we returned from Spring Break on the island and all his texts asking me to reconsider? Begging me to stay. He even knocked on the window outside my bedroom from the fire escape late one night. He’d been drinking, I could tell.
“Brooks? What are you doing here at four in the morning? I have class in a few hours.” I rubbed my eyes after opening the window. The cool air froze my nipples beneath the thin Columbia t-shirt I wore to bed.
“Don’t go. Please.” His voice rasped, low and moody, like him.
“We’ve been over this,” I choked up, but I’d been in tears over this all week since we returned and didn’t think another could fall.
“Marry me. Stay here and marry me. Because fuck... I love you, Maisy. I know Archer and Rex warned me about how young you are. We have an age difference. Your sister doesn’t approve of us. But I didn’t set out to fall for you, I just fucking did, okay? I want you. Be my wife. You want to travel the world? I’m rich as hell and can take you anywhere. If you’d only stay with me, Maisy.”
“Brooks, you’re not making this easy for me.” I was wrong. More tears fell. I spoke and cried at the same time. “And you don’t understand. Yes, I am young. That’s why I want to do this voyage now, while I can. Before I’m tied down to a job and responsibilities and a... relationship. I need to spread my wings and fly. And if you truly loved me, you’d see that. Just because I’m leaving doesn’t mean I don’t want you. If it’s love, it’ll still be here when I come back. We could try again, then.”
I tried, so help me, to stick to my resolve. But face to face with him, it crumbled.
He cupped my face and kissed my lips tenderly. “I can’t wait a year to have you, Maisy. Don’t you want me, baby?” He kissed me again, then trailed his lips down my neck. “Hm? You know I can make you feel so good. Let me in.”
“Oh, Brooks,” I warmed up to him as he leaned further into the window, so far that we landed on my bed in my tiny room.
He hovered over me and whispered, “I love you, Maisy.”
“Mm,” I moaned, my legs squeezing together in the tub, thinking back on that night. I never gave him an answer to his proposal. Instead, we were a mess of limbs and hands and tongues, clawing at each other, feral, passionately, to please each other. When we woke up the next morning, we were no more closer to any resolution.
The need for Brooks throbbed strongly now, rising through me like lava in my veins. I reached for the little bath toy he had so cleverly—and, of course, scientifically, professionally—selected. It hummed softly in my hand, and with a breathy laugh, I sank lower into the water, letting the warmth wrap around me as the toy gained rhythm.
In my mind, it was him. His mouth, his hands and fingers. The way he looked at me when no one else was around. The way he touched me like I was something sacred.
My breath caught as I slipped deeper into the fantasy—his voice low in my ear, telling me all the ways he wanted to unravel me. He called me a good girl and took me apart, then put me back together again with his tongue. Then he took more, dry humping into me with his hard shaft, our clothes the only barrier, our crescendoing moans the only sound. My hips moved in sync with his, grinding, yearning to be bare with him. Ourministrations heated faster and faster until he stilled above me.
“Mm.” Pleasure hit me in waves, curling my toes through my belly and into my thighs, tightening everything, making me tremble. I let go, crying out, then biting my lip to hold his name in while in my mind I praised him. Brooks. Fuck yes, Brooks.
Afterward, I lay there, boneless and dazed, my pulse a soft thrum in my ears. Definitely relaxed.
I’d been lying to myself.
Since the moment we locked eyes in that boardroom—the one where he wore the scarf I’d knitted like it meant something—I’d known I was still his.
I wanted Brooks Bellamy. All of him. Always had.
But it was the same impossible argument I’d fought from the beginning.
I had goals. Dreams. Work that mattered.
When would I finally let it all go and let him in?
And when I did… would it be too late?
How long would he wait for me?
I closed my eyes, heart thudding.
He was everything. Even when I pushed him away. And somehow, impossibly, he was still mine.
At least for now.
It was early when Sophie pulled up outside our apartment in her little red hatchback, the sunglasses at the ready and pushed to the top of her head. Two to go cups of our favorite coffee sat in the cup holders.
“Good morning, science princess,” she chirped with the passenger window down. “We’re all gassed up. Ready to head back to the land of pie, porch swings, and warm hugs from your mother?”
I grinned and tossed my weekender bag in the back. “Only if you promise to keep your sunshine dialed down to medium.”
“After all that self-care and special treatment from Brooks last night, you’re grumpy?” She shook her head.
“It was lovely, don’t get me wrong. But I tossed and turned all night thinking about him.” I buckled and settled in for the few hours’ drive ahead. “And something tells me that was the whole point. He wants me wanting him.”
“Or maybe he just cares about you and wanted to help you relax. Either way, is it working?”
“What do you think?” My head rolled against the headrest to eye her.
“I think that someone really special only comes along once in your life. If I were in your shoes, I’d latch onto Brooks and never let go.”
“And I think Sophie Hatchett is a romantic at heart who watches too many rom coms and should cancel her membership to the Romance-Land Book Club.” I chuckled. “Now, if you don’t mind, let’s listen to music.”
“Yes, let’s, because, thanks to Brooks, he supplied a playlist for our drive today.”
“Oh, my God. This man...” I shook my head, but I had to hand it to him. The beats were rocking with an eclectic mix of some oldies, songs from our high school and college days, and modern top tens. They kept us singing and bouncing in our seats the whole way.
The drive to Holly Creek always felt like a leisurely slow breath—buildings giving way to trees, car horns traded for quiet. Sophie and I detoured once for coffee and potato chips when I decided I needed carbs to face the combination of newborns and complicated feelings.
By the time we pulled into the long gravel drive at Richard and Vivian’s house, my stomach flipped in somersaults.
We gaped at their new home. It was stunning—classic and warm, with huge front windows, wraparound porch, and the signature Bellamy Brothers design flair. It had been a dream project of theirs to build a million dollar plus property with all the bells and whistles, and it shined.
Chelsea was on the porch bouncing baby Max in her lap while Paris performed cartwheels barefoot across the lawn.
“Mommy!” she screamed and pointed at us. “Aunt Maisy’s here! And she brought Sophie!”
“Hello, my precious Paris.” I got out of the car and greeted her, picking her little body straight up into my arms. “How do you like your new sister?”
“Isabella is her name. I got to pick it out,” she said, her eyes bouncing with excitement.
“Well, it’s a beautiful name,” Sophie said, taking Paris off my hands for her own hugs.
I jumped up the wide front steps and into Chelsea’s arms, cradling baby Max between us. “Oh. My. God. Look how big he’s getting all ready.”
“I told you. Changing so fast,” she said.
“Photos don’t do him justice. Now I’m going to have to come home more often, so I don’t miss his baby cuteness. It’ll be gone in a blink of an eye,” I complained.
“You know, Mom and I wouldn’t mind if you moved back, Maisy-girl.”
I snorted. “I don’t see a lot of positions for neuroscientists in the Holly Creek help wanted ads.” As much as I adored coming home often, I wasn’t so sure I’d ever move back entirely.
Inside, the house smelled like fresh bread and baby shampoo. Vivian emerged from the nursery holding the tiniest bundle I’d ever seen, her eyes tired but glowing.
“Maisy,” she whispered, as if saying my name too loudly might wake the baby. “Come meet Isabella.”
“Oh my God,” I breathed, taking the baby into my arms. Sophie latched to my side, and we both gazed upon the tiny little bean dressed in a pink outfit with a headband and a bow around her soft-haired head.
“She’s perfect,” Sophie exclaimed, bringing her hands to her mouth.
The newborn yawned, scrunched her tiny face, and clutched a finger I hadn’t realized was trembling. We all chuckled quietly at the cuteness overload.
For a while, we settled into Vivian’s room, where Chelsea fed Max on one side of the bed while Paris played with dolls on the rug. We talked and passed the babies back and forth, taking turns, first Isabella, then Max. Holding these babies in my old hometown felt like roots planted all around me, deep and strong; always a place I could return to and find love.
Somewhere in the middle of the conversation—I burst into tears.
“Sorry, I don’t know what came over me,” I sniffled.
“That’s your clock ticking inside of you.” Vivian smiled.
“Aunt Maisy has a clock in her?” Paris tilted her head, thinking about that.
“Sort of,” Chelsea replied. “It’s okay to want this someday, Maisy.”
“I’ve always been career first,” I murmured. “Even when Brooks asked me to stay instead of floating off on the ship... I couldn’t. Now, seeing the two of you, I don’t know what I want.”
“Well, I definitely want kids,” Sophie said, gazing down at Isabella in her arms. Then she revised her statement. “Actually, one perfect kid will do. I couldn’t see myself having more than that.”
Chelsea shifted closer as Max ended back in my arms again. “You don’t have to choose, you know. You’re allowed to have both—a career and love. I know, I know—” she put her hands up when I glared at her. “When you first met Brooks, I was a little hard on you both, worried he might keep you from achieving everything you wanted in life. But I suppose marriage and motherhood has changed my stance a little. Maisy, I’ve watched you climb every ladder you set your sights on over the years, meeting everyone else’s expectations. Maybe now it’s time to decide what kind of view you want as you climb to the top. And when you get there, you’ll figure out how to fly, I know it.”
Vivian added, “You do things your own way, Maisy. You, too, Sophie. You’ll both figure it out in time. We certainly have.” She and Chelsea shared a knowing glance between them.
I liked that and held her words close... What view do I want when I get to the top?
By the time we left the bedroom and returned to the great room, something shifted inside of me—subtle but seismic, with enough force to be life-changing.
Then I noticed Brooks, standing by the fireplace, talking with Rex, Richard. Completely at home in a charcoal flannel shirt and dark jeans, Brooks’ thumbs hooked in the belt loops. The sexy view of him froze me in my path.
His eyes found mine, and instantly my pulse forgot its rhythm.
“Brooks is here?” I whispered to Sophie.
“Apparently, Richard invited him up to talk about some design work,” she offered.
My eyebrows shot up. I sashayed across the room slowly, my heart spinning like a traitorous, hopeful thing as it always did around Brooks.
“You didn’t say you were coming up here,” I breathed.
“I didn’t know until last night when Richard called.” Brooks smiled crookedly. “It’s good to see you out of the city. I hope last night was as relaxing as it could be?”
I swallowed hard, knowing exactly how last night went. And suddenly, all the clarity I thought I had about my life and career vanished.