31. brooks
thirty-one
brooks
. . .
Let Me Love It Out Of You - Tim McGraw
Luckily, by the time I get to the airport, I have eighteen—count ‘em—texts from Jody, and two from Everett. Between them, they’ve arranged my flight to New York and researched my travel from the airport into the city, and Everett’s promised to keep tabs on Ashton by being an overbearing, overprotective big brother, so all I have to do is check in online and rush straight to TSA.
Mercifully, they all seem to be in a good mood. Neutral, at least. I make it through security with minimal fuss, and head straight for my gate. My long stride is in my favor; when I get there, boarding has almost finished.
And as one last fuck-you before he forgives me for sticking my cock in his sister, Everett has booked me a middle seat in economy, right in front of the lavatory.
I’m sandwiched between a woman who grips the armrest with white knuckles for the entire flight, and a woman whose e-reader font size allows her to read only fifteen words per page, and who holds the device at such an angle that I can’t help but read the book, too.
I’m pretty sure, despite the discomfort of having my knees practically jammed into my chest, I’ve figured out who murdered the golf prodigy, but we land before my suspicions can be confirmed.
Everett’s latest text tells me Ashton is in Manhattan.
I follow the signs through the terminal to a bus stop, where I jump on a bus that will—according to one of Jody’s many texts—take me to a subway station, where I can take a train into Manhattan.
Planes, trains… is a bus an automobile? I guess I should just be thankful I don’t need to take a damn boat.
It’s a journey fraught with anxiety. I’m so caught up in my own head about everything that I almost miss my stop, making it through the doors by the skin of my teeth only because a man with a service dog sat beside me, and the dog sat almost on my feet and woke me from my oblivion.
just got off the subway what’s the latest update?
Everett
*attachment: 1 image*
still browsing apparently
Jody
get ur girl brooo
Everett
If you make her cry I swear to god I will feed your balls to the bulls and make you watch
Jody
kinky
Everett
I’m not even joking
I will destroy you
I smirk at Ashton’s colorful language in the screenshot Everett sent.
Mercifully, she doesn’t seem to have a clue why he’s keeping such close tabs on her; as far as she’s concerned, he’s just being an annoying brother.
But it means I know exactly where to find her, because she’s been browsing in the same place for the better part of an hour.
In spite of the weather, this place is exactly the tourist Mecca I expected from the movies.
Its bright lights blur in the steady drizzle, barely dulled by the overcast sky.
Thanks to the rain, there’s a little more space to stride purposefully through the street than I expected, as people huddle closer together beneath umbrellas and awnings.
Once I catch sight of the familiar striped signage of Ashton’s favorite cosmetics store, there’s not a damn thing in the world that can stop me.
She steps out into the rain, tugging the hood of her raincoat over her head just as I approach the door.
“Ashton!” She barely spares me a glance as I call her name. I know she heard me. She walks past me, leather boots kicking up droplets from puddles and soaking her jeans. “Ashton, stop!”
She stops walking. Sighs deeply, squares her shoulders and then lets them drop, curling in on herself a little.
And a knot forms in the pit of my stomach, because that’s not my Ashton.
My Ashton doesn’t fold inward like that; she doesn’t minimize herself for anyone.
She’s loud and bold and proudly herself, and it hurts to know that I’m the one who caused this.
That I’m the reason why she’s a shell of the woman I know and love.
No, it doesn’t simply hurt. It’s downright devastating.
She turns to face me. Her eyes are hollow, faint purple circles beneath them.
“What do you want?”
You, I think. I just want you.
“You,” I say. Because finally, my brain and my heart and my mouth are on the same page. “When I said the stakes were too high, I was an ass. I fucked up, Ashton, I know it. And when I told you this ain’t worth the risk, I lied. Because I’d risk everything I have for you.”
Ashton’s eyes blaze with fury. Terrifying as it is, my god, it’s good to see them alight with life again.
“You know what, Brooks? I’m tired. I’m not gonna be your dirty secret. I have never in my life lied to my brother, but since you—since we—it’s all I’ve done. And I ain’t doin’ it no more.”
“I know,” I say. “And you don’t gotta. He knows. He knows I’m here.”
A flicker of something shines in her eyes, although her face remains set in stone. Impassive, but angry. Probably wondering why Everett has been so needy today, instead of furious like she’d expect him to be.
“I ain’t gonna be another walk of shame for you, Brooks,” she says quietly.
There’s a hint of venom in her voice, barely audible over the buzz of Times Square.
“How do I know I won’t be used and tossed aside like all the other girls, huh?
How do you know? How do you know you won’t get sick of me next week, next month? ”
Her voice rises as she speaks, becoming shrill. I rub my hand angrily over the thick stubble of my hair. I hate that Ashton thinks that of me. I hate myself for being the reason for those thoughts. I hate all of this.
“Don’t you get it?” I yell. The hustle and bustle of the city evening surrounds us, and what was briefly a trickle of rain is fast becoming a downpour.
We’re both soaked to the skin, standing in the middle of Times Square.
From the outside, it probably looks like the climax from one of those romcoms Ash loves so much, but right now it feels more like a horror flick.
Ashton flinches when I raise my voice over the rain and I hate myself even more.
“Yeah, I slept around, Ash. I don’t regret my life, only that I can’t change what’s done. I can’t take it back and I’m sorry for that. I didn’t know it then, but I do now. I was looking for something I could never find.”
“Looking for what? The perfect fuck? None of them stuck because they weren’t enough for you to get your rocks off?”
I exhale into a loud growl.
“None of them ever stuck around because they weren’t what I wanted. None of them were you, Ash! Do you see? Do you get it now?”
Ashton’s starlit eyes sparkle with unshed tears as rivulets of filthy city rain roll down her face.
She opens her mouth to speak at the exact moment I surge forward, grabbing her face between my hands and claiming her lips with mine.
Tangling my fingers in her soaked hair. She melts into me, just as she always does. Just as she always has.
“None of them were you, Ash,” I repeat as I tear my mouth from hers. “And it’s always been you.”
With one hand on her face and the other pressing her body against mine, I use my thumb to brush the tears that fall steadily.
“I love you, Ashton. Always have, always will.”
“Since I was twelve years old,” she says with a laugh that becomes a sob.
“I’ve loved you since I was twelve years old.
” I don’t know how to explain quite what it means to hear that.
Ashton has been my best friend since we were kids.
She impressed me for the first time at five years old, and I think my nine-year-old self probably fell a little bit in love with her then.
This strong, smart, sassy, beautiful woman has had me awestruck for almost twenty years, and hearing her say she’s loved me all along?
Fuck, I don’t think the wetness on my face is just from the rain anymore.
“Loved you then. Love you now.” I kiss her again, unable to resist. She tastes like rain, and it’s the best flavor I think I’ve ever had. “Let me take you home, devil. Get you out of this rain.”
She nods and I take both of her hands in mine, kissing her knuckles before she leads me to the subway.
It’s all I can do not to maul her, to tear at her clothes, to kiss her hungrily, desperately, as we ride the subway into the Bronx, almost entirely out of the city.
I clasp her hand in mine as we run through the rain together from the subway station to her small apartment, taking tiny strides to allow her to keep up.
She may be on the taller side at five seven, but she’s still ten inches shorter than me, and my stride is long, even for my height.
Our boots send droplets flying as we laugh, splashing through puddles on the soaked ground.
I’ve never wanted anyone—or anything—this much.
I’ve never felt such a carnal, overwhelming need, and not just for sex.
For everything. To have her body, sure, but to have her mind.
Her heart. To hold and protect her, to watch her grow and succeed, to be by her side and burst with pride as she takes on the world.
I want—no, I need her to be mine. And I need it like I might explode if this doesn’t work.
I love her in a way that makes me feel like I could torch the world, either for her or because of her, or maybe both.
I’ve never loved anyone before. Not like this. But when we’re finally inside her apartment, with her body wrapped around mine and her hands curled around the back of my neck, I feel suddenly and overwhelmingly whole.