Chapter 18
EIGHTEEN
brIAR
I can still almost feel the raindrops on my skin, dripping down my hair, my back, between my breasts, leaving me chilled and numb.
But right now it’s another drop of liquid that has me frozen down to the bone.
I woke to a man crouched in front of me and my past has taught me that’s dangerous, that I should run and hide, do my best to escape…
Because bad things are coming.
Except the only bad thing in this moment is the pain written into the lines of Brooks’s face.
And the tear sliding down his cheek.
I’m reaching up before I realize I’ve moved, lightly rubbing the drop from his skin.
My touch has his eyes flying open, dislodging another tear.
I wipe that one away too.
Neither of us say anything as the moment stretches, only silence between us. It grows heavy, emotions from our past clinging to the present, to the future.
Then he shifts, his weight altering ever so slightly—as though he’s going to pull away, going to stand, going to leave me.
And it’s like I’m back in the dream, back on the mountain, back watching him walk away from me.
I lurch forward, launching myself into his arms.
We tip backward, the plush carpet breaking our fall.
Though, really, it’s Brooks who’s cushioning me against the impact, his arms wrapping around me, his body beneath mine. His scent in my nose, his gentle words in my ears, his hand weaving into my hair, protecting the back of my skull from the threat of impact.
Protecting me from an invisible threat.
I freeze.
And the ice inside me ruptures, a wealth of emotions flowing out, flooding my senses and…
I burst into tears.
Five years of tears are torn out of me.
Brooks holds me closer and sits up, arms wrapping even tighter around me. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. I’m here,” he repeats. “I’m here.”
Here now.
But for how long?
Here now.
But when will he break me again?
Here now.
But how can I possibly forgive him?
I distantly hear a strange sound, something that almost sounds like an animal, and it takes me a minute to realize it’s me. That I’m making the noise, and I try to stop, try to find the strength to pull away.
Only, I can’t.
Especially when he gets to his feet and carries me across the room, climbing into the bed that smelled of him, a bed I couldn’t bear to sleep in.
Not without him.
So I’d contented myself with a pillow that was rich with his scent, a pillow I pretended was his warm body.
Even though it made me weak.
Even though I should have marched down the hall and demanded he let me sleep in the real guest room.
Or better yet, I should have quietly walked down the hall and exited his life, leaving him far, far behind.
So he couldn’t hurt me again.
So I didn’t hurt him again either.
Now as he climbs into bed, curling me against his chest, still murmuring those soft, reassuring words, I can’t make myself pull away, can’t imagine walking out, can’t so much as form the image in my head.
I just…cry.
And let him hold me the entire time.
I don’t remember falling asleep, but the moment my eyes peel open, sunshine pouring in through the windows, I know that Brooks is awake.
And that he hasn’t slept a wink.
I feel it in the tension in his body, in the strain of his emotions licking at the air.
When I put a hand to the mattress and push up, his arms fall away and I’m able to see his face, and yup—definitely didn’t sleep a wink.
His hair is mussed, the stubble on his cheeks thick, but his eyes are alert, the dark circles beneath them so black they almost look bruised.
“You okay?” he asks quietly.
I nod.
He slowly lifts a hand but pauses before he touches me.
I lean in, close the distance between my cheek and his palm. “Liar,” he murmurs, lightly stroking his thumb over my skin, the slight rasp making me shiver.
He tugs the blankets more tightly around me.
Then explains why he called me a liar.
“You’re exhausted and your body’s aching.”
He’s not wrong.
I feel like I got run over by a Mack truck, my throat sore and my shoulders and back muscles throbbing from all the crying.
Before I can admit that, he’s slipping out of bed.
I watch him until he disappears from sight, not understanding…
Until I hear the water turn on, filling the tub.
And my heart squeezes.
He comes out, our gazes sliding by each other’s as he moves out of the bedroom, footsteps soft on the hardwood floor in the hall.
I wait, but when he’s gone for more than a couple of minutes I decide I’d better check on the water in the tub so I climb out of bed and do just that.
It’s nearly full so I take care of the necessary bathroom needs.
When I’m washing my hands, Brooks walks back in, a cup in his hand and a bag in the other. “Toothbrush,” he says quietly as he puts the plastic bag beside me on the counter. “Tea,” he adds when he sets down the mug.
It’s steaming, tangling with the damp air and filling the room with the soft hints of chai.
“You hungry?”
I shake my head.
After all the food from last night, I’m still full.
“Sure?”
“Yeah,” I rasp.
His eyes flick to my throat and then the mug is being pressed into my hand. “Drink,” he orders. “It’ll help.”
I take a sip and he’s not wrong, the pleasant warmth helps soothe the ache there.
“Are you okay?” I ask softly.
Then sip again when his eyes flare with emotion.
He’s exhausted and guilty and worried.
I put the mug down and walk into his arms.
He doesn’t move, stays stiff as a statue until I murmur, “It’s okay.”
Then he shudders, his head dropping, his arms banding around me, holding me so freaking tightly I can barely breathe.
But that’s okay.
Because he needs this.
Same as I needed to shed all those tears last night.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to us, how the wounds we both carry could ever be healed.
I just know I need to hold him.
That we need to hold each other.