Chapter 35
Brooks
H er laugh.
My head snaps toward the line of customers at the counter.
Am I imagining her laugh now?
“Dammit, Brooks, stay with me,” Jared snaps, yanking my attention back to him. He points at a graph on the papers spread across the table between us, his tone sharp and frustrated. “We need to get these forecasts done for quarter four.”
I blink at him, trying to pull my head back into the game. He pinches the bridge of his nose. He’s annoyed. And it’s well deserved. If I were in his place, I’d throw my phone at me. I can’t get my shit together these days. As if he already knows this meeting isn’t going anywhere, he throws down the papers on the table and sits back with a heavy sigh. It’s the first time I’ve seen him in person since our last meeting here, two weeks ago.
“Okay,” he says, staring at me with the kind of exasperation you reserve for someone who’s completely lost their way. “How can we fix this? How can we get you to return to work? Do we need to start a daycare? So Presley’s steps away from you?”
He means well, but anger simmers beneath my skin. I press my lips together so I don’t snap at him and tell him he’s an asshole for not understanding. I’m not able to leave Presley. It’s almost been two months since I thought I lost her forever. Two months of nightmares that when I wake up, she won’t be there. School starts next week, and I’m contemplating homeschooling. Pay teachers to come to our home if it means keeping her close.
“You should talk to a therapist.”
He thinks I’m crazy. At least I’m a crazy person with a daughter who is safe.
“This isn’t healthy for you. Or Presley,” he adds.
The moment the words leave his lips, my anger ignites like a match to gasoline. “Don’t you dare talk about my daughter like that,” I snap. “How could having her own father around be unhealthy for her?”
I expect him to back down. Instead, he meets my glare, his jaw clenched in frustration. “I’m not questioning you being around her, but this … obsession, Brooks, it’s not healthy. For either of you.”
I grit my teeth. “You don’t understand.”
“I’m trying to,” he says, his voice softening. “But you’re suffocating yourself. You need to give her room to breathe. Let yourself breathe.”
The only thing keeping me sane right now is being with my daughter, regardless of her being sick of me. We finally told her what happened because we couldn’t hide it anymore. Not with the news covering Judith on a daily basis. Then there was why she would never see her again. She took it harder than I expected. For fuck’s sakes, the woman stole her from me, and Pres was sad about her not being in our lives now.
Judith should be thanking the asshole who jumped Cooper for admitting that she hired him. Before that, my attorney warned me that the judge could grant her bail. I wasn’t worried. I was ready . Now, she’s sitting exactly where she belongs—in a cage. Alongside her mom, who is very much alive.
Jared holds his hands up and sighs. “Sorry. I just wonder if talking it out with someone will help.”
I drop my head, nodding, exhaling as my muscles loosen because he’s right.
He slides a business card in front of me. “She’s a good friend of Anabel’s. Make an appointment. You know I love you like a brother and Presley like my own daughter. Fuck the business. This isn’t about that. I’ll run the show for as long as you need. But it’s time to do something. You can’t keep living like a hermit and hoarding your daughter.”
His words are laced with genuine concern, but they do little to quell the fire inside me. I take a deep breath, trying to calm down.
“I’m not hoarding her. She still has a life.”
He lifts a brow, calling bullshit. “A life with you Velcroed to her side. When’s the last time you got a haircut? You’re looking like a grizzly bear.”
I want to argue, but I can’t. It’s been weeks, maybe months , since I did anything for myself. Even during the short hour-long meetings I’ve scheduled here and there, when Presley stays with Addison or my mom, it’s impossible for me to shake the feeling something bad is going to happen. I’m emotionally drained because I’m unable to relax until I have eyes on her. My mind can’t focus.
Except when I hear Gracyn’s laugh.
Or I thought I did.
“Can she hypnotize me to forget about Gracyn?” I ask, picking up the card.
“You haven’t talked to her at all?”
I shake my head, a bitter laugh slipping from my lips. “Why? What’s the point? Whatever we had, I messed up, and still, it just won’t work.”
Before, I was willing to meet her halfway. I’d go there. She’d come here. It was a give and take. But now? It’d be one-sided because I’m not leaving Presley here for anyone.
I’d only take, and I wouldn’t feel one ounce of regret. Gracyn deserves a man who can give as much as they take. Someone who can show up when it matters, not someone who’s drowning in their own mess.
And I’m drowning.
That night, lying in bed, Presley on the other side sound asleep with her pink dog covering her eyes, I pick up my phone. “ What are you doing, Handley?” I whisper to myself as I pull up Gracyn’s number, my fingers taking on a mind of their own.
Dammit, Jared. Why’d you have to bring her up?
I stare at her last text. The one I never responded to. What a dick move. After I was the biggest asshole to her, she still reached out, and I couldn’t even muster up the decency to say thank you. I let out a deep sigh and type, wondering if she’s blocked me. I wouldn’t blame her if she had.
Me: I thought I heard you in the coffee shop yesterday.
I don’t expect a reply. Not after what I did. What I said. I’ve yet to say sorry even though every time I think about how I treated her, I want to hurl. I’m afraid if I say sorry, it’ll open a door that needs to stay cemented shut. So why did I text her?
When the three dots pop up, showing she’s writing, my heart pounds against my chest.
She didn’t block me.
Gracyn: Did your coffee disappear?
I chuckle softly, then peek at Presley, hoping I didn’t wake her. I can’t help the smile plastered on my face.
Me: Not this time.
Gracyn: Then I definitely wasn’t there.
You definitely weren’t, my coffee thief .
Me: Thank you for thinking of us.
I wait for her next response, wondering if I’ll ever be able to fix the damage between us. But I glance over at Presley, watching her chest rise and fall with her tiny breaths, I realize maybe it’s not about fixing what’s broken. Maybe it’s about accepting that we’re at two different places in life and letting go. When she doesn’t respond, I’m okay.
Not the ideal closure, but better than we left it.
Bye, beautiful Gracyn, you were the best mistake I ever made.