19. Clover
NINETEEN
Clover
I didn’t make myself a sandwich for lunch today. At least I remembered to come in and make something for Darby this time, for everyone really. And this time, it’s mac’n’cheese.
I’ve had like three bites. Darby is almost done.
With a sigh, I shake myself, trying to refocus. I need to eat. It’s been a long morning, and…I just need to.
What you need to do is stop thinking about Brooks.
It’s pretty impossible, though. After the rain, we were able to run back inside, and Darby was there to greet us. We were made the butt of every joke, which was fine, Darby is funny, and I wouldn’t hold it against him.
The thing that got under my skin and refused to leave was how Brooks was so damned quiet after that. He didn’t say so much as another word between getting cleaned up and cooking and eating dinner.
Not one.
Last night, I stayed awake, sitting in my bed and half expecting Brooks to knock on my door again—wanting it. It was a long while before exhaustion finally got me, and I passed out.
Embarrassed was an understatement when I woke up. I just can’t believe I let myself get all worked up like that. Brooks clearly isn’t going to make a move. He’s not…he’s not interested.
Don’t give up on him.
Rosie’s voice plays in my head, and I force myself to take another bite of my lunch. But I just don’t know about what she said. I want too. I do. But…I can’t keep getting my hopes up just to have them dashed.
“Clover? Clover ?” Darby waves a hand in front of my face. “Hello?”
I shake myself, sitting upright in my chair. “I’m sorry. What? I was distracted.”
Darby laughs and points down to the table. “Your phone. It buzzed like three times.”
“Oh, right.” I laugh it off as best I can. “Thanks.”
Picking it up, I swipe open the screen and see I have three texts. When I open the messages app, I’m not surprised that they’re from Kyle.
That many that fast? Who else would it be?
I try to keep my expression neutral, my breathing even, as I look at the messages.
You think you can just ignore me? You ruined my life! If you won’t fix this, I swear to god you’ll pay for it.
And then…
You’ll never work in this town again, Clover. I’ll destroy everything you built if I have to.
And then…
My life is over because of you. You deserve the same fucking thing.
Nausea blooms, washing over me in a wave of heat. I don’t think I’m doing a particularly good job playing it cool because Darby looks over at me with a frown.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m fine. My stomach is just off.”
I offer a forced smile, tucking my phone away. Swallowing, I tell myself the same thing I have been since I left NYC.
Kyle can’t get to me here. He doesn’t know where I am, and I’m safe. He’s all talk, bravado, just like he always is. You’ve seen him act like this before. Sure, not to this degree, but Kyle’s bark is worse than his bite.
My pulse starts to calm some, and I try to take another bite of mac’n’cheese. It tastes like sandpaper.
Plopping my fork down, I sigh.
“You sure about being okay?”
Jumping slightly, I realize that Brooks is standing behind me at the door to the kitchen. He must’ve been there a minute, long enough to hear my conversation with Darby, long enough to see my reaction to the texts.
“Well, I was before you scared the crap out of me.” I turn and smile, playing it off. “I’m fine.”
Darby laughs, and I turn and glare. It’s enough to get him out of his seat, taking his bowl to the sink.
Brooks steps up to me, leaning on the island where we’ve been eating. “You know you’re safe here, Clover. I told you that.”
With a half-assed smile, I nod. “Yes, thank you.”
“I mean it.” He looks me dead in the eye, and I feel trapped by his gaze.
It’s not terrifying or unnerving, though. If anything, that look in his hazel eyes just confirms his commitment to actually keeping me safe, this unspoken promise to protect me himself if necessary.
I don’t want to feel that so hard in my bones. I don’t want to sit here and swoon over what Brooks has implied. I don’t want to trust him implicitly.
But I do.
“Are you going to leave, Clover?”
Darby’s voice rocks me to my core, and I look up, past Brooks to where the kid is standing right in front of the sink.
“What makes you ask that?”
His shoulders are sagging down, and I can see how much trouble Darby is having with making eye contact. He’s clearly upset.
“Well…Dad is better. His arm is better. I figured that you would, umm, probably…go.”
My chest aches as I stare at Darby, each heartbeat feeling like a betrayal in my ribs. I can’t stand to see him like this.
When and if I leave, I know I’ll be breaking his heart. He’s already been through so much, and the idea of leaving him here makes me sick to my stomach.
Standing up, I go to him, taking Darby’s hands in mine. “I’m not planning on leaving any time soon, bud. Okay? So don’t worry.”
He perks up, excitement bubbling up from within him. At once, Darby wraps his arms around me for a crushing hug.
“Good. Cuz you just can’t.” He squeezes me again, then steps back with a massive grin. “Do I still get tablet time even though it rained yesterday?”
Looking between me and Brooks, Darby’s expression is hope and happiness, my words an easy reset button on his sadness.
Brooks sighs with a nod. “Yeah, bud, it’s fine. Go on.”
Darby hurries off, and I’m left standing in the kitchen with Brooks. The silence is painful.
When I look up at him, Brooks is facing the doorway, like he’s still watching Darby leave. His shoulders are slumped, and I can see the tension in his jaw from the side of his face.
He’s nervous. He’s…upset.
Because we both know that promise to Darby might be an empty one. Ugh.
It turns out that reprieve of guilt was only temporary. I sigh, dropping my head toward the floor. I don’t want to hurt Darby. I don’t want to hurt either of them.
“I know you want to make him happy.” I look up, but Brooks still isn’t facing me. “But don’t get his hopes up, okay?”
“I don’t intend to.” The sound of my voice barely breaks the air. “I…you still need help around here. The doctor still told you to take it easy. And I…I don’t have anywhere to rush off to. So…”
The words fall away. They feel hollow. I’m not saying so much, and I think we both know that. I chew on my lip as I’m left without a response, so I decide it’s best to just go to my room.
Everyone to your corners.
As I walk past Brooks, he snags my arm, stopping me in my tracks with a hand around my bicep. It doesn’t hurt. He’s not aggressive, but my eyes whip up to him.
“I’m serious, Clover. I?—”
“I get it, Brooks.” I furrow my brow at him, feeling worse than before. “I won’t tell Darby anything that might?—”
“Not that.” Brooks shakes his head, and I focus on his face, waiting for more. “I’m serious about protecting you. You don’t have to worry about some guy from your work. I won’t let him hurt you.”
He drops my arm, but I can’t move. My lips part as the emotions rise through me like a tsunami—destructive and unavoidable.
I nod, and in the quiet, Brooks nods back.
“Take the rest of the day off. The ground is still plenty muddy. We should let things dry.”
The need to respond is too strong to fight, even as I have no idea what I’m doing. “Worried about me slipping on my ass?”
“Something like that, Lucky.” Brooks nods, his voice soft. “Something like that.”
With that, Brooks turns on his heel and leaves through the kitchen door, going outside. I don’t know what he’s doing since he just said he wants things to dry.
Still, I have no other choice but to listen to him. It’s not like I’m the expert, so I go to my room, closing myself up inside as I think about New York…and Red Lodge.