Chapter 13
He didn’t expect forever, but he expected something.
The silence gutted him more than he cared to admit.
Two weeks. Fourteen damn days without a word from Taylor, and Brooks was losing his mind.
Completely. Every day felt like a punch to the gut, a slow, agonizing descent into something he didn’t have the fucking patience for.
Because what was the issue? He really wanted to know.
He wasn’t built for this. It was fucking with him. She’d gone completely ghost. And he’d let her.
This was why he never got attached. It was obvious he loved too damn hard. Because once he was in, he was all in, no half-measures, no exit strategy. Now, he was stuck in the mess of it, pacing the edges of something that felt too much like heartbreak.
The last night they’d spent together bounced around in his head looping in his mind like an old record that refused to skip.
The way she’d trusted him, let him have all of her, no walls.
How she’d trembled under his touch. Her body had given him everything before her mind could catch up.
How she’d melted into him, let him worship her the way no man ever had. The way she deserved.
Now she was pretending the whole thing was just a moment.
A glitch. Like they hadn’t shared something spectacular that night.
He couldn’t forget how she looked at him with those big brown eyes and whispered, “I’ve never felt like this before.
” He’d given her the best dick she’d ever had in life, and this was how she showed her gratitude.
“Fuck,” he groaned.
He was so confused. How do you go from cussing and calling his name to no contact? He was confused, close to feeling sadness. But he wasn’t ready to let his mind go to the end. He was having a hard time processing her absence, that’s all.
He knew better. He knew this could happen. But he proceeded anyway. And he should’ve let it be. Should’ve deleted her number. Should’ve buried whatever this was before it had a chance to take root, but he hadn’t and now he was living with the torture of being cut off.
Brooks ran a hand over his face, exhausted from the constant replay in his mind and jet lag.
He’d given her space, thinking maybe she needed time to process.
But two weeks of silence? That wasn’t processing.
That was running. He wanted to call and tell on her ass, but he didn’t want to blow her spot up with his sister.
Denver’s skyline stretched out in front of him, the view from his penthouse suite damn near perfect.
He should’ve been relaxing, enjoying the silence, focusing on business.
Instead, he was agitated. Restless. Craving.
The continuous staring at his phone, refreshing his screen like it might call her name was driving him insane.
Taylor had gotten under his skin in a way no woman ever had, and now he was sitting here questioning everything He wasn’t even mad at her. He was mad at himself for believing that he could be more than just a distraction from her divorce, more than just a wild night.
His phone rang, Kirk’s name flashing on the screen, and he groaned. His trip had been taken over by thoughts of her, but he couldn’t let his boys see him like this. They’d come out for a reason.
“Bruh, we heading to the spot in thirty. You ready or you still crying wit yo simp ass?”
“Fuck you, nigga. I’m ready. Y’all pregaming or what? Y’all niggas talked all that shit about the party and vibes, and all I saw you niggas do is take aspirin and tums. Lame asses.”
“Fuck you, meet us on the balcony of my suite. Slim brought the good shit out.”
Brooks glanced at his phone one more time, checking for messages he knew wouldn’t be there.
He hoped a night out was exactly what he needed. Because the change of scenery definitely wasn’t. He needed something to get his mind off her soft brown eyes. Soft skin. Perfectly plump ass, and her in nothing but them damn boots.
He was happy to be in the company of his friends. Words he used very loosely but not when it came to them.
“Aight,” he said, reaching for his sunglasses. “I’m on the way. Let’s turn this bitch up.”
But even as he said it, he knew no amount of liquor or designer weed was going to make him forget the way Taylor fit perfectly in his arms. He was convinced that she’d changed him over the course of their time.
Ten minutes later, he stepped onto the penthouse balcony of Kirk’s suite, finding his boys already deep in their cups, passing a blunt and talking shit like they were back in high school.
“Look who finally decided to join us!” Kirk called out, grinning. “Thought you was gonna stay in there writing poetry and shit all night. Crybaby ass.”
“Man, shut up,” Brooks laughed, sinking into one of the leather chairs.
The fruity weed filled the air, taking the edge off just a little.
The men among him had been his day ones before the money, before he had to take over his father’s business.
They had watched him grieve, grow, and he’d been able to do the same.
“Nah, for real though,” Slim chimed in, passing him the blunt. “What’s good with shorty? She ghosted you or what? What you do?”
Brooks took a slow pull, letting the smoke sit in his lungs before exhaling. “I ain’t do shit. But we ain’t gon’ talk about that. Tonight’s about you and this dispensary. Congrats.”
“Translation… she definitely ghosted his ass,” Kirk howled, dodging the jab Brooks threw at his head.
“At least I ain’t thirsty like you,” Brooks shot back, shaking his head. “You gon fuck around and catch something. Don’t call me either.”
“Y’all know how cold Antarctica is?” Ace finally spoke up, his deep voice cutting through the laughter.
They all turned to look at him. All equally confused where this question was going.
But that was Ace, he didn’t speak much. But when he did it was either going to be crazy or funny. He didn’t know any other way.
“Don’t start that shit bruh.”
“Yeah, exactly y’all already know what I’m about to say. That’s how cool I am on a bitch. Can’t trust ‘em. Too quick to fold. I’m good on all that.”
The whole group doubled over laughing.
“Nigga, you was listening to Redbone in the whip?” Brooks cracked, taking another sip of his drink.
“Fuck you, Brooks,” Ace grumbled, shaking his head. “That shit hard.”
Brooks laughed, but truth be told, he felt Ace. Taylor was dragging it, and all he wanted to do was love her. What was the problem? He’d keep asking that question until he got a satisfactory answer.
“Listen,” Kirk held up his hands, still grinning. “I’m spreading love, my nigga. Can’t help if the ladies love me and I love ‘em back.”
Slim snorted. “The ladies love your bank account, you mean. And Ace, nigga, please, yo crazy ass run them hoes off.”
“I’m a crazy ass nigga, so things happen. Be out of my control.” Ace shrugged.
“Speaking of bank accounts,” Brooks cut in, steering the conversation, “this dispensary bout to be something else. You really did your thing with the design, the flavors, branding all that shit foo.”
“Facts,” Kirk nodded, pouring more liquor into their cups. “That VIP lounge upstairs, overlooking the city? Genius. The baddies gon love that. I’m tryna take home a baddie tonight.”
But Slim was watching Brooks too closely. “Nah, don’t try to change the subject. What’s really good with you and this girl? You tryna settle down now? Listen, I’m happy for you just ain’t think I’d see the day.”
“One day, nigga. Damn. I never said I ain’t want the white picket fence life. But I ain’t begging nobody to fuck with me. ”
“Calling her ain’t begging,” Slim said. “Maybe she been waiting on you. I ran down on Jayla ass so fucking fast when she went missing I ain’t even have to say shit.”
Brooks exhaled through his nose, jaw tight. “I been making the first move from day one. I’m good. She wanna keep running? Imma let her.”
Brooks wasn’t sure why everyone was so invested and shocked about him lowkey being in love. He was a grown man, and it ain’t never been about no pussy. Money was the motive, the mission until that changed. It changed and he wasn’t running from it, ducking and dodging. He was ready.
“Cap,” Kirk coughed. “Biggest cap I ever heard. Nigga, you been checking your phone every five minutes since we got here. Call her.”
“Man, whatever.” Brooks stood up, stretching. “We gonna sit here analyzing my love life all night or we gonna turn up? Cause I ain’t fly to Denver to be on a Dr. Phil episode with y’all.”
The boys laughed, letting him off the hook.
But they weren’t wrong. Brooks felt physically ill when he woke up the next morning and she was gone.
No note, no text, just the lingering scent of her perfume on his pillows.
He’d laid there for an hour, staring at the ceiling, reminiscing about the night they’d had.
He’d debated on calling her, pulling up at her spot. But if she slid out in the middle of the night, it was for a reason. He wasn’t going to force her. Taylor needed to choose him. He’d done nothing but damn near break his leg standing on business for and about her.
They pre-gamed for another fifteen minutes until heading out. He’d tried hyping his self up on the ride there. It didn’t work.
They were now at Slims’ party. He was surrounded by beautiful women, the liquor was flowing, music thumping through the speakers, but his mind elsewhere.
His attempts at moving on weren’t happening how he thought.
With heavy shoulders, Brooks tried to enjoy himself, had a few drinks, rapped a few lyrics, but his heart wasn’t in it. His heart wasn’t in Denver.
His phone buzzed in his pocket. He snatched it up too fast, already scowling at himself, until he saw her name. He closed his eyes. The noise of the party, the music, the laughter, the scent of weed blurred into nothing.