Chapter 6 #2
“Only for another month,” she quipped, spinning on her heel to put the SunnyD bottle back in the fridge.
She slid her big movie-star sunglasses on top of her head, revealing the same bright-blue eyes Brooklyn had.
“Besides, if you were forced to socialize with those little goblin women outside all morning, you’d be drinking yourself under the table. ”
The giggle escaped before I could stop it.
“Oh my god,” she exclaimed, suddenly aware of my presence at the island. “I am so sorry. I’m Stella.” She flipped her sleek ponytail over her shoulder and held out her hand to me. “You’ll have to excuse my brother. I did say he was rude, didn’t I?”
“Nat.” I shook Stella’s hand with a polite smile. “It’s all right, mimosas are a pretty valid distraction.”
“Do you want one?” she asked, and when she gestured back to the refrigerator, all the gold bracelets on her wrists clattered together. “You’ve been hanging out with him all day, you probably need one.”
“Now who’s rude.” Brooklyn rolled his eyes.
He shifted beside me, and it dawned on me that if he was trying to stay clean, he probably didn’t drink either. He’d made me so comfortable all day, I owed him the same.
“I’m okay, thanks.” I gave her that polite smile again, and it seemed to satisfy her as she turned her attention back to her brother.
“Anyway, do us both a favor and please go talk to your mother,” Stella said. “You have plenty of time to be annoyed later, but for now, at least show her you’re alive and not . . .”
Brooklyn glanced down at me and mouthed I’m sorry before wandering toward the back door.
“Don’t worry, us girls will hang out.” Stella shooed Brooklyn away.
“I need her in one piece when I get back,” Brooklyn called over his shoulder before shutting the back door behind him.
Stella leaned closer to me with her elbows pressed into the counter. She smelled like a vacation—all coconut and sunscreen and salt water—with the glowing sun-kissed skin to match.
“So . . .” She clicked her tongue. “You’re a new face. Not that my brother brings any girls home to begin with, but regardless, I don’t recognize you.”
“We moved back a little while ago,” I said. It wasn’t hard to clock the interrogation, mostly because I would have done the exact same thing if Nikki brought home someone I’d never met before. “And Brooklyn and I are just friends.”
She eyed me with a skeptical glance before sighing softly. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be a bitch or anything. I’m trying to look out for him, that’s all.”
“I get it.” I nodded. “I’m the same way with my younger sister.”
“Do me a favor?” Her expression softened as she looked through the wide-open windows at Brooklyn, laughing and chatting with his mom’s book club in that charming, endearing way of his. “Keep an eye on him, please.”
“I will,” I reassured her. “I like hanging out with him. As a friend, right?”
I inwardly groaned. If I could have kicked my own ass right now, I would have.
To my surprise, Stella offered me a soft smile. “My brother wouldn’t readily admit this, but he really needs some good influences around him.”
I held my hands up in surrender. “I can’t promise his caffeine intake will be mitigated, but otherwise I’d like to think I’m a good influence.”
Stella laughed, and it alleviated the tension that had crept into my shoulders.
“So how did you two meet?” she asked.
“Actually, he murdered my coffee in cold blood last week,” I replied with emphatic casualness, and suddenly there was more laughter in the room that hadn’t come from Stella. I’d be remiss to say I didn’t already recognize his laugh.
“Murdered?” Brooklyn feigned offense as he reclaimed his position at the kitchen island beside me, clapping his hands to his chest. “Murdered? That’s . . . that’s cruel. Maybe we could downplay it to coffeeslaughter, couldn’t we? You were half as guilty. Besides, Stella is gonna be a lawyer, so—”
“Excuse you,” Stella scoffed and held up her hand. “Who said I’d be representing you? I’m on Nat’s side.”
“And together we can bring this latte assassin to justice,” I continued.
“Unbelievable,” Brooklyn grumbled. “I’ve never felt so betrayed, and by my own family.”
Stella and I laughed, and I almost didn’t hear the back door open again.
“What’s so funny? You guys sound like a pack of hyenas.”
A woman I assumed to be Brooklyn and Stella’s mother joined us in the kitchen, standing beside Stella and taking a sip from the mimosa Stella had poured.
“Mom, this is Nat.” Brooklyn gestured to me. “Nat, this is my mom.”
“Annie, please. It’s so lovely to meet you.” She extended her hand to me. Her smile reminded me a lot of Brooklyn’s, and it was easy to see where he got it from.
“Nice to meet you.” I offered her a smile in return. We were doing a lot of smiling today, and I needed to schedule some scowl time before I lost feeling in my cheeks.
Brooklyn’s mother was not what I was expecting, although to be fair I didn’t know what to expect.
She had sandy brunet hair like Brooklyn and Stella, but peppered faintly with gray, and done up cleanly in a claw clip.
She was petite—perhaps a little too petite for her flowing floral sundress as it brushed against the wooden floors.
“Great, you’ve seen her,” Brooklyn grumbled. “Now can we go? Nat has to get back home.”
No, I didn’t. But even though that seemed like a little white lie, it sounded great coming out of his mouth. Smooth and effortless and so true. I uncomfortably shifted on the stool as Brooklyn’s mother turned back to me, still polite but a little more tense than before.
“Thanks for coming by,” she said to me. “You’re welcome anytime.”
There was more subtext there, but I didn’t have it in me to fully decipher it. I could tell from the way she looked at me, because her smile didn’t quite reach her eyes this time.
>> <<
The drive back home seemed infinitely longer than our journey out to Brooklyn’s neighborhood.
Wind continued to breeze through all the openness of Brooklyn’s topless Wrangler as we drove across the bridge and through the center of town, and I stuck my hand out, blissfully trying to catch air.
We glided along in silence, with nothing but the grungy ’90s rock Brooklyn played from his Spotify thrumming in the background.
I watched him out of the corner of my eye, wondering why he seemed to captivate me so much.
“What?” He side-eyed me.
I could have said that I liked his eyes, and that I liked his smile, and that most of all, I liked the way he looked at me. I just didn’t know I wanted to be looked at like that until he did, because I’d never gone searching for it myself.
“Nothing,” I said instead, shaking my head. “Your mom and your sister seem nice.”
By the time we had reached my house the sky had turned a milky lavender color, and streaks of pink and orange blended with the clouds as the sun slowly dipped below the ocean. Brooklyn pulled up to the curb and lowered the music so all that could be heard was the steady hum of the engine.
“Thanks for today,” he mumbled. He looked up at me, his blue eyes gleaming in the dusky light.
“I should be thanking you,” I replied with a faint smile. “For getting me out of the house, I mean. I actually had a really good time.”
“Yeah, me too. Plus, I’m sure my mom and my sister are thankful I’m getting out of the house too.
” That identifiable sting had come back, spidering through his words like a crack in glass.
“Look, I get it, it’s weird. My mom treats me like I’m made of glass, and Stella’s taken on this role as my protector, claws out and all. ”
“They just care,” I reassured him.
“I know, I know.” He sighed. “Thanks for reminding me, though.”
“You’re welcome. I know I need to be reminded sometimes too.”
“I’ll remind you, don’t worry.” The space between us began to close in what felt like slow motion, and his voice lowered to almost a whisper. “Just say the word.”
Our elbows grazed on the center console, and I felt completely beholden to the will of my body, unable to rein myself in. Hot air filled my chest as the space between us continued to shrink, and for a moment I swore his eyes flickered down to my mouth. He paused, his lips inches away from mine.
Abruptly, he pulled back, taking all his warmth with him. “Look, I need to tell you something else.”
A combination of words you never really wanted to hear. I tucked the loose strands of hair that had come out of my braid behind my ears and inhaled, bracing myself for impact. “Okay, shoot.”
He rested a hand on the steering wheel and pivoted his body forward so that he didn’t have to look at me so head-on. “They tell you when you’re in recovery and stuff that you really shouldn’t date people. At least not at first. So . . .”
A red-hot blush burst onto my face, and he must have noticed as he fumbled to continue.
“Not that I assumed that’s what this was or anything.
” He cleared his throat. “It’s fine if it wasn’t, or even if it was, it’s just that you’re more prone to relapses in the first year, and all kinds of other stuff they talk about in group.
I don’t want you to think that I don’t want to see you again, because I do. But—”
“We’re friends,” I interjected, trying to slow the thought train derailment. “Which is perfectly fine.”
The tension rolled off his shoulders as he let out a deep, relieved sigh. “Yeah, it is.”
Maybe this was what I had needed to cease my internal tug-of-war. I had a responsibility to be there for Nikki, and he had a responsibility to himself. We both had things we couldn’t put down.
“I guess we’ll talk later,” I said as I fumbled to unbuckle the seat belt. I slid out of the buttery leather seats of his Jeep, desperate to escape the choking hot air around us.
“Hey, Nat,” Brooklyn called as I was about to walk up the front steps. “I, um, meant what I said before. About hanging out again. If you want to. As friends.”
“Yeah,” I replied with a smile. “I’d like that.”
Butterflies fluttered furiously inside of me as I watched him grin at me one last time before pulling away from my house, his grungy rock music carrying into the air of the night until it faded away.
A sudden gust of wind dried the sweat on the back of my neck, and for the first time all day, I felt cold.
Hey Dad,
I met with him again today and I might as well tell you his name now. It’s Brooklyn.
We got coffee and talked for a while, and it wasn’t awkward. It was easy. Too easy. He’s funny in this sideways, wry kind of way. He asks about me like I’m interesting and listens like he’s collecting every word. I like that about him. Most people only wait for their turn to speak.
He told me about his addiction and his recovery process so far.
I already knew the basics, but hearing him dish out the details to me felt like being trusted with something delicate.
He said people in recovery aren’t supposed to date right away, and I get it.
I really do. And it’s not like I couldn’t use a friend or two who doesn’t live in the same house as me.
I think what scares me most is how familiar it all feels.
How much he reminds me of Nikki—the restlessness, the self-deprecating humor, the way he apologizes for existing before anyone even asks him to.
I recognize where the cracks are, and suddenly I think that must mean something.
Like it’s my job or responsibility to patch them.
Do the things I couldn’t do with Nikki the first time around.
I agreed with him and said being friends was perfectly fine, and IT IS. But maybe the smallest part of me thinks it’s not, and that makes me feel selfish. I shouldn’t be expecting him to mess with his recovery process just because I might have a little crush. Those can be temporary.
Kind of like when I had a crush on TJ Maxwell in the first grade and I chased him around the playground to tell him, and I came home very upset that I was rejected. But by dinnertime I was coloring and it was all better. I’m sure you remember that.
Anyway, I think you’d like Brooklyn. As my friend.
Love, Nat