Chapter 25
Tobias
“Iswear, if I knew what that man was up to, I would have gone to California and brought her back here myself.” My mother slams around items as she puts the finishing touches on dinner and rants about Matt.
“I would’ve helped.” Trevor shakes his head. “The guy’s a world-class asshole. He knows damn well he won’t win this lawsuit.” His eyes flick to where Brooke sits at the table next to Mariah. “Especially once the truth of their relationship starts coming out.”
“He just wants to make her pay.” Literally and figuratively. “She left him, and he wants to punish her for it.” Little does the prick know, Brooke isn’t going to pay a dime. Every bill from the attorney we chose to represent her is coming to me, because she is worth every dime it takes to end this.
Tucker is close at my other side, voice low when he asks, “Are we all going to court?”
It’s not a bad thought. I would love to see the look on that fucker’s face when my whole family walks in. My mother included.
“I’m hoping we won’t have to go to court at all.” I shake my head. “I don’t want Brooke to have to deal with that.”
Trevor’s head snaps my way. “Are you seriously thinking about settling?”
“If I have the option, I’d consider it.” I’m not sure I’ll have the option though.
Matt doesn’t seem to be interested in actual money. He wants to humiliate Brooke. Drag her name through the mud. Keep her connected to him in some way for as long as humanly possible.
Even if it’s only through the courts.
“You better not give him a dime.” My mom points the tip of a knife at me. “We do not cower before small men.”
I didn’t really look at paying Matt off as cowering. I thought it would actually be pretty great for him to know I value Brooke so highly I don’t even bat an eye at shelling out whatever it takes to make this go away.
“Besides, it’s not up to you what happens.” My mother’s back to chopping through vegetables as she tips her head in the direction of the table. “It’s up to Brooke. You can’t make this decision for her.”
I want to though. I want to take care of everything for her. I don’t want her to have to worry about anything. Not her safety. Not her peace. Not her well-being.
And sure as shit not some fucker from California who doesn’t know when to quit.
“We’ll see.”
I pick up a tray of grilled asparagus, carrying it to the table. I set it down, pausing to press a kiss to Brooke’s forehead before returning to collect more food.
My mother is lying in wait, and accosts me the second I reach her side.
“None of that, ‘we’ll see’ shit. You have to give her the opportunity to decide.” My mother’s eyes drill into me. “Understand?”
I know better than to argue with her when she gets like this, so I simply say, “Yes ma’am.”
Her eyes narrow, like she knows I’m just giving her lip service. She lets me off the hook, this time, shoving a platter of bacon-wrapped steak medallions into my hands before sending me on my way.
After helping put everything on the table, I take my spot next to Brooke, making sure she eats enough since I know her nerves are wreaking havoc on her stomach.
I’m happy when she manages to get a decent amount down, and even happier when she plows through a healthy serving of the coconut cake my mother made.
Seeing Brooke get more and more comfortable being here with my family brings me no small amount of joy.
We didn’t have dinners like this when Brooke knew me before—it’s a relatively new development I’m sure coincides with my mother’s plans to force us to prioritize family over work—and her family is about as opposite from mine as it gets.
Sure we give each other shit, but at the end of the day, I know everyone in this room has my back.
They will always be there for me. They will never use or manipulate or take advantage of me.
Just like I would never do any of those things to them.
And now they see Brooke as one of us, which means she has the full force of the Bradshaw family on her side. Matt didn’t have a clue what he was doing when he decided to take her to court.
Because he’s basically taking all of us to court.
We’re just cleaning up when Titus clears his throat in a weird way. It brings everyone’s attention to where he’s standing behind Mariah’s chair, one hand resting on her shoulder. “I need to talk to you guys about something.”
I’m immediately concerned. As the one who had to take Mariah to the hospital after one of her fainting episodes—seeing what she’s gone through firsthand—I’ve been worried about her health. Nervous for her and the babies.
And, subsequently, for Titus.
“What’s wrong?” I look Mariah over, trying to see if I can tell what’s going on.
“Nothing’s wrong.” Titus answers immediately. “Everyone’s fine, don’t worry.” His eyes drop to Mariah. “We’ve just decided a big wedding isn’t really what we want.” He moves his focus around the room. “We’re going to have a simple ceremony at our house and we’d love for all of you to be there.”
I turn to my mother immediately, uncertain what her reaction is going to be. Not because I think she’ll be upset that Titus and Mariah are doing something different than she expected. I’m worried my mother will already be making new plans.
She shows love through effort. Our birthdays were always over the top with meticulously decorated cakes, themes that were followed down to the T, and a guest list most people would balk at.
But my mother is just standing there, looking surprisingly pleased. She presses both hands to the spot over her heart, eyes misty. “Of course we’ll all be there.” She shoots me and my brothers a quick look so we know this isn’t optional, before asking, “What can we do to help?”
I linger around the island while my mother and Mariah talk about flower arrangements and food. Both women seem happy with the plans unfolding, which is surprising. My mom can be a bit of a bulldozer, but not once have I heard her try to push her ideas or desires on my future sister-in-law.
I’m kinda proud of her.
“How much time do you think this buys me?” Tucker leans toward me, asking the question without removing his eyes from our mother. “This’ll make a baby shower, a wedding, and two grandbabies. Surely that’ll get her off our backs, right?”
My eyes fall to Brooke as Tucker tries to talk himself into believing my mother would ever forget to meddle in his life simply because she’s managed to get one of us settled.
And another one as close as she can accomplish on her own.
Brooke has seemed happy and comfortable all evening, but she suddenly looks wrong. Tense. Like the smile she’s wearing is only there because it’s frozen in place.
“You’re fucked.” I slap Tucker on the shoulder. “Count your days.”
I leave him sputtering at the island to go to Brooke’s side. Leaning down, I brush her hair back on one side and lean into that ear. “You want to go?”
“Yes, please.” The words are barely a whisper, confirming my fears.
“We need to go let the puppy out.” I take Brooke’s hand in mine, tugging her up from the chair. “Let me know when plans are finalized.”
I don’t wait for anyone to respond. Brooke’s skin is paling and her eyes are starting to look glassy, so I need to get her out of here. Before she falls into another panic attack.
Taking her straight to the side-by-side, I quickly buckle her in and drive her home. I don’t say anything until we’re inside and she’s got Bruno cuddled in her arms.
“You don’t have to go to the wedding.” It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what upset her. “Everyone will understand.”
Brooke gives Bruno a few more pets before crouching to set him back on the floor so he can eat his dinner.
She straightens, taking a deep breath that lifts her shoulders.
“I’m going to the wedding.” She shakes her head.
“I’m not letting Matt keep me from supporting my friend on one of the most important days of her life. ”
Taking in the jut of her chin and the square of her shoulders, I feel an amount of pride that makes my chest ache.
She’s working so hard to break free from all the bullshit trying to hold her down.
Even in the face of a frivolous lawsuit.
Even though she’ll likely never have a relationship with her parents again.
Brooke is determined to attend an event that will probably dredge up awful memories.
Because that’s who she is.
A lot has changed about her over the years.
She’s not as quick to tease me as she used to be.
There’s less sarcasm. Less joking. But at the end of the day, she’s still the same at her core.
She’s still the selfless woman I missed for almost a decade.
Still the driven woman willing to put in the work.
Her eyes still sparkle when she’s about to say something funny.
It’s making me realize I don’t just still love her.
I love her all over again.
All these years I longed for what I’d already had, thinking reclaiming what I lost was the goal. It never occurred to me that might not be possible. That Brooke and I might have both changed while we were apart. That we could have become two different pieces that would never fit back together.
And thank God it didn’t, because I thought I knew what hopelessness felt like, and I can now say I obviously didn’t. Hopelessness would have been waiting all this time only to find out it didn’t matter what I did or how much I grew. I would never have all the things I longed for.
I move toward Brooke, driven by the uncontrollable urge to show her how grateful I am for the way things turned out. For the way she turned out.
It’s so easy to pull her close, drag her body against mine. Being with her is familiar but new at the same time. Comfortable but exciting. A contrast of emotions that somehow work together perfectly.
When her hands come to my body, there’s urgency in her touch. A need that matches the one coursing through my own veins.
My movements become frantic as I grab at her clothes and mine, managing to get her shirt open and my pants undone before losing interest in the task and picking her up, taking her to the closest surface and dropping her down.
Brooke’s ass hits the stool where she sat when I first made her dinner. Where I took care of her when she was sick. The stool that belonged to her before she even knew it existed.
I shove at the skinny skirt she wore to work, pushing the fabric up to her waist before dragging down her panties.
Getting them any farther is going to take too much time, so I leave them tangled at her knees, twisting my hand in the satiny fabric.
Using my grip to keep her legs up, I line my body with hers, and sink deep.
She feels so good around me that I’m already fighting the need to come. The urge to fill her so full it will run down her thighs when she stands up. To witness part of me marking her.
The need is primal. Uncontrollable. Unignorable.
When she leans back, eyes falling closed, a rumble of displeasure rolls through my chest.
“Eyes on me, Brooklyn Marie.” My next thrust is hard, punctuating the demand. “I want you right here with me.”
Brooke’s lids lift, revealing blown pupils as she meets my gaze.
I bring my free hand to her chin, holding it as I stare in her eyes. “Good girl.”
She sucks in a breath, pussy clenching tight around me.
I drag my hand from her chin, down the center of her chest. “Do you like that? You like hearing how good you are?”
“Yes.” She gasps the word, back arching just a little as I adjust my angle, trying to hit that perfect spot.
I tuck my chin, looking between our bodies as my hand continues its downward path, passing the slight swell of her belly and the bunch of her skirt before stopping at her mound.
I press down on the spot just above her pubic bone as I settle my thumb against her clit.
“Look how well you take me.” I bring my eyes back to hers.
“Watch me fuck you. Watch how pretty your pussy looks taking my cock.”
I don’t think I’ve ever considered uttering the words coming out of my mouth right now. But if Brooke likes hearing how good I think she is, I’ve got plenty to work with.
She grips the seat of the stool, struggling to keep her eyes open and follow my instructions as her legs begin to shake. “Toby. I—” Her words cut off.
I don’t really need to hear them. The clench of her around me, milking my dick, is a clear enough indication of what’s happening.
It’s also more than enough to take me with her, my balls pulling tight, hips rocking in deep, sharp thrusts as I drop my forehead to hers, fighting to get enough air into my lungs.
I could probably stand to take a few more minutes to recover from the most intense sexual experience of my life, but the woman I love is precariously perched on a stool, legs dangling from the panties tangled at her knees.
It’s the best thing I’ve ever had in my kitchen. By far.
Easing my body from hers, I slide the high heels off her feet before working her panties off and helping her up. Giving her bared butt a gentle swat, I angle her toward the stairs. “Let’s get you into something more comfortable.”
I follow behind her as we go up the stairs, hating myself for how much I like the glistening lines of my cum trailing down the inside of her thighs.
Just not enough that it won’t happen again.