CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Where It Hurts
"Get ready with me as I prep for a date in my hometown with... my ex," I say into the camera, voice light, smile dialed in.
If this doesn’t get me views, nothing will. And right now, I need them like air.
Glimmer and Glow officially dropped me as an ambassador after I bailed on the Bali trip. I should’ve seen it coming, but it still stings.
My numbers are tanking. I need this date to feel like proof I can still exist.
I still don’t fully understand why Mom can’t bring herself to visit Dad. But I’m starting to realize that there are parts of her I’ll never understand.
She’s lived a different life than I have. Made different choices. Has a different way of dealing with things.
I may not agree with it, but I can at least try to give her space to figure it out. I can set an example. I can encourage.
I can stop being so angry about it.
Still working on that last one.
"We’ll call the guy… Heath to protect his identity," I continue, smoothing primer onto my skin. "Heath and I dated in high school for a year. He was on the volleyball team, and I was… not at all athletic."
I reach for a brush, debating whether or not to include the part where he cheated on me.
"And then he cheated on her with some cheerleader," a voice interrupts from behind me.
My eye twitches as I whip around.
Brooks leans in the doorway, arms crossed, grin already set. He doesn't wait for an invitation, he just slides onto my bed like he owns the place.
I exhale slowly. "Ever heard of knocking?"
"Ever heard of locking?" he shoots back.
I glare at him through the mirror before turning back to my camera. "Sorry about that, guys. Let’s move on."
"So," Brooks annoyingly continues, "you’re seriously going on a date with Holden?" He says the name like it personally offends him.
"Not that it’s any of your business," I say sweetly, "but yes. Now, kindly get out before I start throwing things."
He ignores me. "Let me get this straight. You’re going on a date with a guy who slept with—"
"Kissed," I correct through gritted teeth. "It was just a kiss."
Brooks tilts his head, mock-thoughtful. "Oh, right. And you know this because you were there?"
I glare. "What do you want?"
He shrugs, completely unbothered. "Where is your little date night happening."
I grab my mascara, focusing very hard on the tiny mirror instead of his stupidly attractive, infuriatingly smug face. "I don’t know. Holden’s picking me up at seven. He said it’s a surprise."
Brooks snorts. "That sounds ominous."
I roll my eyes. "What’s your problem with him?"
Brooks scoffs like it should be obvious. "I don’t trust a guy who couldn’t land a residency anywhere but the local hospital. And that’s only because his daddy pulled some strings."
I frown, pausing mid-swipe. "Holden said he wanted to be close to home since his sister is having twins."
Brooks raises an eyebrow. "Uh-huh. And he also said it was just a kiss. Funny how that guy can’t seem to keep a single story straight."
I turn, pointing toward the door. "Get. Out."
Brooks’ grin tilts, all triumph and mischief rolled into one.
"Have fun on your date with the liar, Ellie." He stands, ruffling my hair on his way out.
I swat his hand away, but not before he throws one last smirk over his shoulder.
He’s so ridiculous.
I force a smile, refocusing on the camera like Brooks didn’t just bulldoze his way into my room.
"Anyway," I say, smoothing a hand over my curls. "I’ll let you know how the date goes."
I stop the recording and immediately start editing, annoyed every time I have to cut out Brooks’ interruptions. He’s in the background more than he should be, flashing his stupid smirk, throwing me off my game. Like always.
By the time I finish, I shut my laptop with more force than necessary.
Between Brooks and Mom, I really just want to go home.
Back to my life where I didn’t have to worry about anyone but myself.
Where no one pushed me. No one challenged me.
Where I could just… exist.
I exhale sharply, rubbing my temples.
Ugh.
***
Holden is thirty minutes late.
I don’t know why that bothers me so much, but it does. Maybe it shouldn’t. Maybe I’m just on edge from sitting here, waiting around for some guy I dated ages ago. Not a good look.
Not that Jasper or Brooks has said anything.
But they keep exchanging glances, their silent communication louder than words.
It’s obnoxious.
"So he’s late!" I snap, slamming my phone facedown on the arm of the recliner.
"No one said anything," Mom replies, passing Jasper a slice of chocolate sheet cake.
Brooks muffles a laugh behind his hand.
I glare daggers at him.
Jasper, playing the role of the annoying little brother to perfection, casually asks, "Why are you going out with this guy again?"
The simple answer? He asked.
The complicated one? I haven’t been on a date in over eight months, and I need a night away from this house—away from Mom, Jasper, and especially Brooks.
I need a reminder that my life is still mine.
Instead of explaining myself, I change the subject. "How was your date with Wren Cassidy?"
Jasper smirks but shakes his head. "Not the same thing, Ellie."
"I didn’t say it was," I counter, folding my arms. "Just curious how she’s doing."
"She’s training to become an astronaut," Brooks cuts in, rolling his eyes. "Which is super badass, by the way. Unlike your cheating ex-boyfriend."
Before I can fire back, my phone buzzes with a new message.
I ignore the peanut gallery as I check it.
Holden: Surgery ran late. I’m changing out of my scrubs and heading your way. Be there in 20.
Of course he was in surgery. Of course I’ll wait.
I turn my phone around so Jasper and Brooks can see. "He was in surgery."
They exchange another one of those looks.
Annoying.
"Is ‘surgery’ code for cheating?" Brooks smirks.
My stomach knots, and before I can think better of it, I stand abruptly from the recliner. "You two are horrible people."
Then, without another word, I stalk toward the door.
I don’t say goodbye. I don’t turn around. I just step onto the porch, arms crossed against the warm summer night air, and wait for my date.
I don’t remember much about my relationship with Holden in junior year, just that he was sweet and attentive. He always walked me to class, held doors open, and our sweaty fingers intertwined made eating lunch an impossible task.
We’d kiss. He made dumb choices. So did I. That was then. This is now.
The screen door creaks open behind me. I don’t need to turn around to feel his presence.
"Go away, Brooks," I ground out, my grip tightening around my phone.
He doesn’t listen, of course. Just shoves his hands into his pockets and steps beside me on the porch. "I’m sorry if we upset you."
I scoff. "I don’t need your apologies."
"We all just want what’s best for you," Brooks tries again.
I finally turn to face him, his features bathed in the flickering porchlight. His mouth is set in a firm line, but there’s something indecipherable in his expression. Concern? Frustration? I don’t know.
"If everyone in that house felt that way," I say, voice sharp, "then Jasper and Mom would get in the car and drive to the hospital."
Brooks flinches, a barely-there reaction, but I see it. Feel it.
His grandmother died. So, why won’t he talk Jasper into going to see Dad before it gets to… that? If it even does?
I take a breath, steadying my voice. "They trust you, Brooks. And as much as it pains me to say it, they trust you a hell of a lot more than they trust me. Talk to them."
"I have tried, Ellie." His voice is raw, exhausted, like he’s carrying more than he lets on. "They don’t listen to anyone. You know that."
I shake my head. "It’s not fair," I grumble. "It’s not fair that you and I have to carry the weight of everything. This is why I went to California. I didn’t want to do this anymore. I wanted…" I trail off, gripping the porch railing. I wanted to be free. I wanted to be selfish.
"They’re doing the best they can," he tries.
I roll my eyes. "Maybe Mom is. But Jasper? Jasper went on a date, Brooks. He got coffee with a girl. If he showed up for her but won’t show up for Dad, then no, he’s not doing his best. He’s being selfish."
Brooks exhales heavily, dragging a hand down his face. "That’s… a good point," he admits, like he’s just now realizing it. "I didn’t think about it that way."
At least Brooks has been at the hospital. He’s checked in on Dad. He’s checked in on me. So why can’t my own flesh and blood do the same?
I glance back at him, my voice quieter. "Thank you."
His brows furrow slightly. "For what?"
I hesitate, then place my hand on his arm. His warm, solid arm. His eyes flicker to where my fingers rest, like he’s startled I’m touching him at all.
"I hate all of it," I say, the words raw. "This place. The selfishness. Dad in a hospital bed. The whole thing. But you…" I trail off.
His gaze darkens, searching my face. "I’m what?"
I swallow. "You’re always around. Which is annoying. But you’re also the only person actually trying to help."
He doesn’t say anything at first. Just watches me with an intensity that makes my chest feel tight. His fingers flex like he wants to reach for me. But then, instead of something heartfelt, he does the most Brooks thing possible.
He lifts a hand as if to touch my face, then flips it over and presses the back to my forehead awkwardly, half joke, half worry. When I jerk away, he doesn’t pull back. His other hand lands at my waist, steadying me.
"What the hell?"
"Just checking," he says, completely straight-faced. "First, you agree to go on a date with a lying loser. Now you’re getting all soft and sentimental with me? You must be coming down with something."
I swat at his arm, but he’s quick, catching my wrist before I can make contact, and pulling me flush against him.
His chest is hard beneath my palm, his heartbeat a steady thrum against my skin. His fingers tighten around my wrist, gentle but firm, his other hand curling around my waist like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it.
"Let me go," I demand, but it comes out breathy. Weak.
Brooks exhales through his nose, his voice lower now. "I know you’re losing followers," he says. "But is that really all you care about?"
I blink up at him, my thoughts static.
"You say your family is selfish," he continues, "but have you actually taken a good look in the mirror? You’re selfish, too. And if you want them to do things differently—if you want them to show up and not run away—then you have to show them how."
"I’m here now, aren’t I?" I snap as his thumb rubs a slow, lazy circle against my wrist.
"I’ll talk to Jasper," Brooks promises. "But I’m not forcing anyone to do something they’re not ready for. We all have trauma, Ellie. Even me."
I lick my lips, suddenly nervous. "Your grandmother?"
Something flickers behind his eyes. But instead of answering, he says, "Your mom’s been waiting for you to sit next to her and talk. But all you do is run out the door."
"She hasn’t made an effort either!" I argue, my voice rising.
Brooks tilts his head slightly. "You left, and she fell apart. You never called. You never even sent a postcard. You ran, and now you’re standing here for the first time since you left, judging everyone. It’s not just Jasper and your mom who need to figure their shit out. It’s you, too."
A pair of headlights cut across the driveway.
But I don’t look away from Brooks.
My blood is boiling. He has the audacity to tell me I need to get it together? I dropped everything to be here. My career might be ruined. I almost lost my dad. What more could I possibly do?
My voice comes out low, sharp. "You don’t know what you’re talking about."
Brooks doesn’t flinch. Just watches me. Like he sees straight through me.
"Figure your shit out, Ellie. Then come find me."
He turns and disappears back inside, leaving me standing on the porch, my chest rising and falling too fast.
I hate him. I hate him so much.
But I also hate that for the first time in a long time, I feel like someone actually sees me—the deepest, darkest parts of me.
And that? I hate that the most.