Chapter 6 Brooks
brOOKS
Iwrap my hand around my dick and stroke it over and over. I smack my other hand against the cool glass of my shower, and I say her name.
“Wren,” I grunt out as I come harder than I have in months.
Goddamn it, I want her.
Tonight, in that apartment, I wanted her.
I wanted to wrap her up, and hold her, and take care of her.
Let her know that I wasn’t going to let my fucking family get to her.
Then I wanted to carry her to the bed—or the couch, or the damn table, for all I cared—and fuck the anxiety right out of her.
Make her forget everything else except for me.
Eyes on me, baby girl.
I finish showering and dry off.
I remember what my brother said when we were leaving his apartment.
“Don’t fuck this up, Brooks. Don’t mess with her.”
I know they’re right. I know that would be textbook Brooks: Brooks sees hot girl. Brooks gets in her pants.
They’re not wrong to expect it of me.
But there is something about her that makes everything and everyone else feel like a distant memory, blurry and faded like an old photo. But Wren is vibrant and full of shades of colors. She’s not overly friendly or fawning over me like so many other women. But she’s interested in me in other ways.
And what’s more is that she doesn’t seem to give a shit about my last name. She’s not trying to mooch off of it—she’s trying to take it down.
And I’m going to help her do it.
There is still so much more I want to know about her. What her childhood was like. What her parents do. Where she went to school.
What she sounds like when I taste her.
I shiver at the thought and put a fresh pair of boxers on, then hop into my California king bed.
I close my eyes, but all I see is her.
I wake up to my phone buzzing incessantly on my nightstand.
6:52 in the morning.
I got an interview.
Hello?
They already sent me a request. They want me to go down TOMORROW.
Hello? Brooks??
I swipe a sleepy hand down my face and press call.
“Hello?” she answers.
“Get ready,” I tell her. “I’ll be there in a half hour. Take a breath. You’re not alone.”
I get dressed in a hurry, put on a dab of my cologne, and then call Eddie to get the car ready.
But just as I get to the penthouse elevator, my phone rings again.
I expect to see her name, but I freeze when I see my dad’s flash on my screen.
I swallow. My brothers and I didn’t talk about this part.
About how to navigate our relationship with Cato until everything is said and done. Guess it’s time to improvise.
“Hello?” I answer.
“Wow. Awake before ten? What’s the occasion? Or have you not gone to bed yet?” Cato answers, his tone oozing with sarcasm and condescension, per usual. I chuckle on the other end. I’ve never really talked back to Cato. Not the way my brothers have.
I was always too afraid to.
He spent my entire childhood reminding me that I was the bastard, separating me from my brothers like I wasn’t just as much his son as they were. And he never misses an opportunity to chastise me. Remind me that I’m worthless. That I have wasted my name and my potential.
“I’m in the office every morning by nine, Dad,” I say quietly. I decided a long time ago to let him believe the narrative he’d been spinning for my whole life. It was easier that way than to try to make him see me in another light. “To what do I owe the pleasure of hearing your voice so early?”
“I need you to run a meeting for me tomorrow at the Boston office.”
I swallow.
Tomorrow?
“What…uh…what meeting?”
“It’s some bullshit foundation thing, you know,” he says, and I can practically hear him gagging at the idea of wasting his time on anything philanthropic. Giving isn’t really his strong suit.
I swallow.
The interview is tomorrow.
Which is why he needs me to cover for him.
“Well, uh…I was supposed to meet with some clients, and uh—”
“Reschedule. This is the third time I’ve had to cancel this meeting. It’ll start to look bad if an Everett doesn’t show.”
Fuck.
“Why do you need me to cover?” I ask, gritting my teeth. He laughs on the other end, and I feel my blood start to boil.
“What, suddenly interested in the grown-up businesses now, are we, son?” he chuckles.
“You didn’t answer, Dad,” I say with no hint of humor in my voice.
“I have another meeting I need to go to,” he says, “but just a reminder, it’s really none of your damn business. I’ll have Patricia send over the details. Be there.”
Click.
I shove my phone in my pocket and rush onto the elevator. When I get out and get into the car, I dial Julian.
“Good morning,” he answers.
“Not really,” I say. “She got the interview. It’s tomorrow.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?” he asks. “How did you know she—”
“She told me. Listen, I promised her I’d be there, but Dad has me filling in for him at some meeting up in Boston tomorrow. You have to be there. Keat, too.”
“Of course,” Julian says. “We will be there before and after. We will make sure—”
“I’m serious, J,” I say. “You can’t… You have to be…”
My voice trails off, and I feel my heart pounding in my chest as the SUV weaves through the city traffic.
“We will be there, Brooks. I promise.”
“Thank you,” I say. “I’m on my way to her place now. She’s a nervous wreck.”
“You two, uh… Are you…?”
“Don’t, J,” I warn. “I don’t know. I just…I promise I’m not fucking it up. But don’t ask.”
I don’t know what’s happening. I don’t know what I’m feeling. And I’m not ready to own up to anything.
“I trust you, Brooks,” he says. “Keep me in the loop.”
I freeze for a moment, basking in his words.
I trust you, Brooks.
That might be the first time that anyone in my family has said that to me. That I wasn’t seen as the butt of every joke.
“Thank you.”
A few minutes later, we’re pulling up in front of her apartment.
She’s waiting in the lobby and rushes out when she sees us.
I hop out to open the door, and she slides inside.
She’s in a hoodie and jeans, and she looks just as delicious as she did all dolled up and professional.
She opens her mouth to speak, but I hold up a finger.
“No panicking before breakfast,” I tell her.
Her mouth snaps shut, and I smile at her until she can’t help but reciprocate.
Eddie takes us to Kim’s, this little family diner that my brothers and I frequented when we were younger.
The owner, Marty, sets us up with a private table in the kitchen, and within twenty minutes, we’re splitting a huge stack of pancakes, a fruit bowl, a big plate of bacon, and some sausage gravy.
After a little bit, she leans back in her chair, wiping her face with her napkin.
“Wow,” she says. “That’s amazing.”
I smile.
“I know. Never disappoints.” She smiles, but I see it run away from her face just as fast as it came. I lean forward. “Come on.”
I stand up and take her hand, leading her out the back door.
Eddie leaves one thousand dollars on the table and follows us out.
A few minutes later, we’re on Fifth pulling up in front of Teresa’s, a boutique that my mom fell in love with.
I backed the owner with some money up front, in exchange for my mom being able to shop whenever she wanted.
“Where are we?” she asks as we slide out of the car.
“Teresa’s,” I tell her. “She’s a good friend of my mom’s.
I called in a favor.” I walk her toward the door, hustling a bit so we can get safely inside.
The last thing we need is a picture of us to show up in some tabloid somewhere.
She will be the “mystery girl,” and then she’ll be unhirable, and the whole plan will foil.
And what’s worse, I’d be dragging her down with the sinking ship that is Brooks Everett’s life.
Even though she’s already doing it voluntarily.
“Sorry,” she says when we get inside the door. “I sort of forgot you’re famous.”
I chuckle.
“You have no idea how refreshing that is to hear,” I say.
“My baby!” I hear Teresa’s sweet voice call from across the shop. She claps her hands together and hurries up to me, clasping my face in her hands and kissing both of my cheeks.
“Hi, Teresa,” I say with a smile as I wrap my arms around her and kiss her cheeks back. “It's been way too long.” She puts her hands on my chest and smiles up at me lovingly.
"How is your mom?" she asks, "I haven't talked to her in a few weeks." I smile.
“She's great. I'll let her know I saw you. She will be so jealous.” My eyes flick over to Wren for a minute.
I haven't given her a whole lot of information about my mom yet.
I never usually do. The world is usually so focused on the baggage that comes with the Everett name that people largely forget about the women that he groomed and tricked and treated like dog shit, but also the woman that he made me with.
I feel so much guilt over my mom. My father was so unkind to her, and so was the world when she got pregnant with me, that I do my best to shield her and protect her now that I have the ability to do that.
I turn to Wren and put my arm around her.
“This is my friend, Wren,” I say. “She has a very important job interview tomorrow with some very important people. She needs an outfit.” Teresa claps her hands together and then pulls Wren in for a hug just as she's done with pretty much everyone else she's ever met.
I don't think she's ever met a stranger.
“It's so good to meet you, sweetheart,” she says to her. Wren smiles.
"It's so nice to meet you," she says. "Thank you so much for doing this."
Teresa smiles back at me.
"I would do anything for my sweet boy," she says.
She takes Wren under her arm and begins to walk her through the shop.
Then she turns to me. "Make yourself at home,” she says.
"We're gonna have some fun." Then she winks at me and disappears farther into the store.
I laugh and plop down on the velvet couch.