6. Brooke
brOOKE
The second I saw him, the world stopped cold. The crowd. The music. The laughter. All of it was gone in an instant. There was only him.
Brayden.
He was smiling at Anslee like she already meant something to him, and that scared the hell out of me.
It had been just over two years since I’d last seen him.
Two years since I’d stood outside that garage and watched the owner’s granddaughter toy with a strand of his hair.
The girl had always had a crush on him and flirted with him every chance she got.
I despised her, and I despised her even more when she leaned in and kissed him.
He didn’t pull away. He didn’t tell her to stop. He kissed her back, and when they were done, he followed her back into the garage. I’d convinced myself he’d moved on. I told myself it didn’t matter, but looking at him now, I started to wonder if I’d been lying to myself.
I think a part of me had always wondered, but I’d never been brave enough to admit it. It was even harder now. Too much time had gone by. Too much had changed. That was clear the second I saw that look in his eyes. I’d seen it before. I knew what it meant, but I did my best to play it off.
I swallowed hard, then muttered, “Brayden.”
The word came out more like a whisper, but it was enough to cause his jaw to flex. He looked at me with wonder in his eyes and replied, “Brooke.”
The way he said my name nearly brought me to my knees. It had been years, and somehow, it still sounded the same, which didn’t make sense, because the man standing in front of me wasn’t that same boy I’d fallen in love with.
He’d grown into a man, broader and stronger, and there was an edge to him that hadn’t been there before, like he’d found his purpose. The years hadn’t just added muscles to his tall frame, but also confidence in the way he carried himself.
But his eyes hadn’t changed.
They were the same blue eyes I’d once gotten lost in, and God help me, he was still just as handsome, maybe even more so. Anslee shifted against my hip, completely oblivious to the fact that her mother was on the brink of falling apart.
She babbled something and smiled at Brayden. That’s when he asked, “What are you doing here?”
“We drove in for the fair… I live in Bryant now.”
Telling him felt odd, like I was explaining my life to a complete stranger instead of the man who’d once known me better than anyone.
“Oh.”
I could see the questions in his eyes, the confusion and disbelief, but before either of us could say anything more, a familiar arm slipped around my waist. Every muscle in my body tensed when Ryan announced, “The line finally died down. We can get her on the carousel now.”
“That’s great.”
“Wide!”
“That’s right, sweetie.” Ryan laughed. “We’re going to ride.”
I couldn’t look at Brayden. I just couldn’t. I knew how this looked. I had a baby, and a man had his hand resting on my waist. I also knew Brayden was watching every second of it. I gave Ryan a smile. “She’s going to love it.”
Ryan finally noticed Brayden standing in front of us, and his smile faded slightly. He gave him a look. It wasn’t exactly hostile, but it wasn’t friendly either. It was the look of a man trying to figure out what was going on between us.
Neither of them said a word, and it was painfully awkward.
I couldn’t do this. Not here. Not in front of Anslee and Ryan, so I forced myself to look at him, the man I’d never truly stopped loving. “It was good to see you, Brayden.”
His expression didn’t change. If anything, it hardened. It wasn’t much, just enough to tell me he hated it as much as I did. I forced a smile as I told him, “I hope you guys have a fun night.”
I thought he might stop me or at least say something, but he simply stood there, silently watching as I turned and started walking toward the carousel with Anslee. Ryan kept his hand on the small of my back, guiding me through the crowd, and when we reached the ride, he handed over the ticket.
We stepped through the gate and up onto the carousel, and I offered Anslee to Ryan as I got up on one of the horses. Once I was settled, he handed her back to me, and she squealed with delight. Ryan laughed, along with every adult around us.
It was a special moment. It was my daughter’s first ride on a carousel, but I couldn’t stop thinking about the look on Brayden’s face when I turned and walked away. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was still standing there, watching us, so I glanced over my shoulder.
I shouldn’t have. I knew that the second I saw that he was standing exactly where I’d left him, and my stomach took a nosedive when I saw that he was staring right at me. That’s when it hit me.
Seeing him again didn’t feel like running into some old boyfriend. It felt like reopening a wound that had never truly healed, and that made my heart ache even more.
I was pulled from my thoughts when the ride lurched forward, and music started to play. Anslee clasped her hands around the pole and squealed yet again. Ryan slipped his arm around my back, making sure we didn’t fall, and he said, “Here we go! Hold on tight, girls.”
He was so protective and reliable, and there was a sense of peace that came with him. I felt it, and I had no doubt Anslee felt it, too. And he was kind and cared about our happiness, which is why he’d stood as lookout, waiting for the line for the carousel to go down.
They were little things, but over time, they added up.
Children around us were smiling and laughing, and Anslee couldn’t have been more excited. That alone should’ve been enough to keep me from looking out into the crowd for Brayden, but it wasn’t.
I looked back over at the spot where he’d been minutes before, and when I didn’t see him, I scanned the food vendors and the game booths. But there was no sign of him. My chest tightened, and I had to fight the urge to cry as the carousel carried us around and around.
And with each time around, my disappointment grew. I’d spent two years imagining what I’d say if I ever saw him again, and all I could muster were a few awkward words. Now, he was gone.
The ride continued, and as we glided up and down, I found myself thinking about the leather vest he was wearing and the tattoos that peeked out from beneath his sleeves.
He looked so different than the image I’d carried around in my head, and it got me thinking about the first time we met.
My lips pulled into a slight smile as I thought about the night that changed everything.
It was the middle of winter, during an Arkansas cold snap.
The wind cut straight through you and settle in your bones. Snow had been falling for hours, and the shelter where I’d been volunteering was packed. Every bed was claimed, along with every chair and every mat.
We’d taken in more than we were allowed, and even though we hated it, we had no choice but to start turning people away. We knew there was a good chance that some of them wouldn’t survive the night, but we didn’t have a choice.
The fire marshal had already given us three warnings for overcrowding.
If we got one more, they’d shut us down, so we would send them down the street to the next shelter and hope they had room.
Once everyone was settled, we started winding down for the night.
I grabbed a couple of bags of trash and headed out the back to the dumpster.
I stepped outside and groaned when I realized the light was out again. It had been flickering on and off for days, and no one had done anything about it. I was ready to get home, so I ignored that voice in my head that said to turn back, and I rushed toward the dumpster instead.
I lifted the lid and tossed the bags into the bin before turning back toward the building. That’s when I saw them. Two older men had stepped out of the darkness, blocking my path back into the shelter.
They were dirty, and their clothes hung loose around their thin frames. One was missing several teeth, and his hair was matted under his cap. The other looked like he hadn’t shaved in months, and his left eye was a bit off-center.
Their appearance didn’t bother me. I’d been volunteering at the shelter for months.
I’d seen people struggling first-hand, but it was the way these men looked at me that scared me.
And the fact that they reeked of alcohol didn’t help matters.
One of them stepped forward as he asked, “You got any money?”
“No.”
“Come on. We know ya do. Hand it over.”
“No, I really don’t.”
The second man stepped closer, and every instinct I had screamed at me to leave. I started backing toward the door, and he barked, “Where do you think you’re going?”
“I need to get back inside… They’re waiting on me.”
One of them grabbed my arm, and fear shot through me. “Let go!”
I yanked against his grip, but he just held on tighter. And suddenly, I realized just how dumb it was to be out there alone. Joseph, one of the lead staff members, was always warning us about taking risks we had no business taking.
I wished I’d listened.
Maybe then, I wouldn’t be standing in a dark alley, in the freezing snow, with two intoxicated homeless men, wondering what they were going to do to me. I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could make a peep, a voice cut through the night.
“Let her go.”
All three of us turned, and I thought I was imagining things when a man stepped out of the shadows.
He was tall, broad-shouldered, but lean.
He looked to be only a year or two older than me, but he didn’t look afraid or uncertain.
He looked annoyed, and you could hear it in his voice when he growled, “I said, let her go.”
The man holding my arm scoffed, “Mind ya business, kid.”
“Don’t be stupid,” the stranger warned. “Or you’ll regret it.”
“Oh? And why’s that?” the man snickered. “You gonna square up?”
“Won’t have to.” He motioned his head down the alley. “The cops are just around the corner.”