Chapter 23 Brooke
brOOKE
Islide my arms into my coat as I head for the door.
My purse is where I left it on top of the cardboard box, and I snatch it up and grab my car keys out of the side pocket.
I need to get to Joel; I need to find out if there’s still a chance.
I have to find out if there is a place for me here.
And if there is, I’ll unpack my things and burn even single cardboard box in this house.
I’ll buy nice furniture and print off family photos and put them in a frame.
I’ll get a cat and grow an herb garden and plant an apple tree.
I’ll join a local club and make friends, and get to know my neighbors.
I’ll take a local cooking class and host a dinner party for all my new friends, and never eat another takeout meal.
Well, not never, but I’ll never eat another takeout meal alone.
I pull open the door and jump back in fright. Joel is standing there with his hand raised, as if he’s about to knock.
Our eyes lock, and he looks wilder than I remember. There are dark smudges under his eyes, and his hair is scruffy.
“You scared me.”
My heart’s racing, but it’s not from the shock of finding a man at my door. I’d forgotten how handsome Joel is, how his muscles bulge out of his t-shirt, how his intense gaze makes me feel like butterflies are beating their wings in my chest.
His gaze drops to the keys in my hand, the purse slung over my shoulder, and he takes a step backward. “Sorry, you’re on your way out.”
“No,” I say a little too quickly.
He frowns at the keys dangling from my hand.
“I mean, I was…”
I’m not sure why he’s here, and suddenly I’m unsure of myself. I was about to rush to him, to tell him how I feel, but now that he’s here, I falter. What if he’s changed his mind? What if he’s here to talk about Dana, and I missed my chance?
“Why are you here?” It comes out abruptly, and Joel takes another step back.
“I mean, it’s okay that you are. Do you want to come in?”
I’m rambling and awkward, but I step aside quickly and Joel sidesteps past me into the apartment. I catch his scent as he passes and breathe in deep, making the butterflies beat harder against my rib cage.
Joel scans the entryway as he walks through to the kitchen, and I suddenly see it from a stranger’s point of view. The unpacked boxes, the bare walls, the lack of permanence. I don’t even have a house plant.
“You’re getting ready to move on again,” he says dully.
“No,” I say too quickly.
He indicates the boxes. “I’ve disturbed your packing. I’ll go.”
“No,” I say again. “I’m not packing. I never unpacked.”
“Oh,” he says.
He runs a hand over the box stacked by the kitchen table, and it comes away with a layer of dust.
I watch him, still unsure why he’s here.
“Do you want a hot drink? A coffee or chamomile tea?”
I haven’t been able to stop drinking chamomile tea since I got back from the camping trip. It’s become my evening ritual, and every time I think of Joel.
“Sure.”
I put the kettle on, and Joel leans against the kitchen counter. I feel his eyes on me as I move around the kitchen. I’m still not sure why he’s here, but being this close to him again has my skin heating up faster than the kettle.
I put two tea-bags in two mugs and pour in the water, then hand Joel a steaming mug.
“Thanks.”
Our fingers brush as a zap of energy pings between us. My gaze darts to his, and his eyes are suddenly alert.
He felt it too.
Without a word, Joel sets his mug down. Then he takes mine out of my hands and sets it down too. His hands clasp mine, and the butterflies pound against my chest.
“Don’t go, Brooke.”
I suck in a long breath at his words. I open my mouth to tell him that I don’t want to go this time. But he puts a finger to my lips.
“Don’t say anything, yet. I know you have your lifestyle, and I love your independence. I love that you’re curious and adventurous and brave. I love all those things about you because I love you.”
The butterflies burst out of my chest and I try to speak, but there’s fear in Joel’s eyes, and I get the feeling he has to say this because he thinks I’m going to shoot him down again.
“Stay. Stay with me for one year. Give it a try, just give me one year. One year to show you what life could be like here. One year to fall in love with the town, with the mountains, and maybe you’ll fall in love with me too.”
His eyes are pleading, and he grasps my hands, squeezing them hard.
“Stay, Brooke, not because I ask you to, but because you belong here. With me, with Dana, and with those kids at the school. Stay, just stay.”
Tears brim at the corners of my eyes, and I squeeze his hands back. “I don’t need a year, Joel; I already love you.”
His eyes scan mine, and they’re shiny. “So you’ll stay?”
“Yes! That’s what I was coming to tell you. I want to stay, if you still want me.”
“Of course I still want you, Brooke. My feelings haven’t changed. If anything, the last few weeks have made me realize how I can’t function properly without you.”
He says it with such certainty. His steadiness is the anchor I need, and being tethered to Joel helps me open up and voice the things I’m scared of.
“I don’t know how to stay. I don’t know how to put down roots, or settle in, or belong in anyone’s life.”
He pulls me toward him, and I bump against his hard body.
“It’s easy, Brooke. When you find the place you belong, and the person you belong to, it just feels right. And you belong here, by my side.”
His arms go around my waist, and I look up into his eyes. It does feel easy. Easy and right.
A tear slides down my cheek, and Joel catches it with his thumb. “Don’t cry, Brooke.”
“They’re happy tears,” I reassure him.
Joel presses his lips to my cheek and kisses the tear away. He lets out a long, slow sigh and pulls me into a tight hug.
“I got you. You belong in my heart, and I will love you fiercely for as long as you want to stay here, which I hope is forever.”
He kisses the top of my head, and I relax against him. I no longer have to do life on my own, and while that scares the heck out of me, there’s no place I’d rather be than in Joel’s arms.