CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Gross, Weird, and Exactly What I Need
As it turns out, Brooks is good for social media engagement.
Really good.
The comments are flooded with people obsessing over his toned arms, his jawline, his whole lumberjack-wilderness-survival aesthetic.
Apparently, temperamental, small-town, slightly irritating guys are a niche people love. They’ve even nicknamed him "Lumberjack Hottie." Which is definitely going to go to his head.
I should be annoyed. I am annoyed.
But if it gets people watching, liking, and engaging? I’ll take the win.
It’s not the content I’m used to posting. Actually, my whole page has done a complete 180. But people are still watching.
And as long as they’re watching, I still have a career.
There’s a quiet knock on my bedroom door. I twist in my chair, fully expecting Brooks and that smug, self-righteous grin. But instead, I’m surprised to see Jasper standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his hoodie.
"Hey," he says softly. "Mind if I come in?"
"Sure," I reply, gesturing toward the bed. He crosses the room and sits on the edge, his posture stiff.
"What’s up, Jasp?"
"Brooks told me I’m a hypocrite," my brother says flatly. "Said it’s bullshit that I went out for coffee with Wren but still haven’t visited Dad."
I swallow hard. Brooks actually said that?
"I don’t even know what to say to that," I admit roughly.
"He’s right," Jasper mutters. "But it’s... complicated."
I don’t say anything. I let him talk.
"Living in this house without you, it’s been rough. Mom’s been... gone in her own way for years. And Dad? He’s been too busy pretending everything’s fine. When I tried to talk about it—about how bad things were getting—he yelled at me."
"He what?"
"Yeah. Brooks was there. You can ask him."
I nod, stunned. "Why would he yell at you?"
Jasper rubs the heel of his hand over his forehead, like the memory itself hurts.
"He told me it wasn’t my place. That I didn’t understand what Mom was going through.
That she was fine." His laugh is hollow. "She wasn’t fine. I was the one here. I was the one grocery shopping, paying bills, handling her meltdowns, driving her to every random appointment she’d agree to until she stopped leaving the house at all.
I worked nights at the gas station just to get out of the house. Just to breathe."
I could say something. I should say something. But the words stick in my throat.
I sit frozen, absorbing every word.
Jasper glances down at his lap. "She’d ask for something and if I didn’t jump the second she wanted it, she’d nag me into the ground.
I love her, Ellie, but it’s exhausting." He finally looks back at me. "So, yeah. I’m mad. I’ve been mad.
I haven’t really talked to Dad since that fight.
And going to the hospital? It means facing all of it again.
And I don’t know if I’m ready for that."
"I’m sorry," I murmur. "I didn’t know. I thought… I thought you just didn’t want to go."
"I didn’t want to dump it on you," he admits. "You were out there living your life, chasing your dreams. I didn’t want to be the reason you came back."
I’m not sure how I missed all of this. How did I not see Jasper drowning here? It wasn’t just Brooks who stayed and picked up the pieces after I left. It was my brother, too.
"I’m sorry I left you to deal with everything on your own," I say quietly. "I know it might’ve looked selfish, but I didn’t want to be stuck here anymore. I wanted… more."
"I’m not mad," Jasper says, and his voice is steady. "I want you to be happy, Ellie. I want you to succeed."
The problem is… I’m not happy. I haven’t been happy in California for a while.
"What do you want to do with your life?" I ask him.
He lets out a short laugh. "I don’t know."
"Do you have dreams? Things you’ve always wanted?"
"Brooks and I always talk about opening a sports bar," he admits.
I raise a brow. "You two don’t even watch sports."
Jasper grins. "Yeah, we know. We just like the idea of a place where people come together. Wall-to-wall TVs, cold beer, maybe good wings. A place that feels like home."
I shake my head, smiling. "You two are weird."
His grin fades. "I don’t think I ever let myself really think about the future.
I figured helping Mom was temporary. Just until she got back on her feet.
But then… I blinked and I’m 25, still here, still doing the same stuff I was doing in high school.
And at some point, I stopped asking what I actually wanted. "
I chew the inside of my cheek, then say, "I don’t have to go back to LA right away. I could stay a little longer. Give you some space to figure it out."
He gives me a sad, grateful smile. "I could never ask you to rearrange your life for me. We all made our choices when you left. I respect yours. But I don’t want to be the reason you’re unhappy."
"You keep bringing up my happiness," I note softly.
Jasper chuckles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.
"Everyone always talks about how successful you are—followers, brand deals, going viral. But I guess I’ve always thought success meant happiness.
And maybe that’s why I never left. Why I just stayed here making nature videos with Brooks.
It’s not flashy, but it makes me feel grounded. Surrounded by the people I love."
His words hit me like a punch to the chest. Not because they hurt, but because maybe he’s found something I’ve spent my entire adult life searching for.
People to love. A career built on creativity and expression.
A place to call home. Isn’t that what we’re all really searching for? Love. Passion. Belonging.
"I think you’re incredibly successful," I say softly, watching my brother. "More than most people I know."
Jasper shakes his head, a small, bashful smile playing at his lips. "I don’t know about that."
"I do," I say with conviction.
He exhales, long and slow, like he’s been holding his breath for years. "I think… I’d like to go to the hospital. If you’ll come with me."
My lips part, stunned. "You want to see Dad? Really?"
"I should’ve gone days ago," he admits. "But I was scared. And maybe… maybe a little angry."
"But you’re not angry anymore?" I ask gently.
Jasper looks toward the window, the light catching in his eyes. "Sometimes, I don’t think it’s anger. It feels more like… sadness."
My throat burns. "Yeah," I whisper. "I get that."
His gaze meets mine again. "Will you drive?"
I smile. "Of course."
"I need to get changed," Jasper says, motioning to the ripped T-shirt he’s wearing. "Brooks and I went foraging first thing this morning. He woke me before the sun was even up."
"You know Brooks," I chuckle softly, brushing my fingers through my hair. "The man has a deep, personal vendetta against sweat."
"Such a weird hill to die on," Jasper says with a wink. "Right?"
"Hey," I hold up my hands in mock defense. "He’s your bestie."
Jasper laughs, standing up. "I’ll meet you at the car in ten?"
"Sounds like a plan," I say as he disappears down the hallway.
Jasper’s going to the hospital. Finally. Because of Brooks. Somehow, always Brooks.
The weight in my chest tightens. Not from resentment, but from something heavier. Gratitude. Regret. Maybe something else I’m too scared to name. Something with storm-colored eyes and calloused hands.
I grab my purse, take one last look in the mirror, and head toward the front door. I’m not even surprised to find Brooks already there, leaning against the aging porch railing like he’s the gatekeeper to my sanity.
"Elowen," he says, raising one eyebrow like he’s amused by my very existence.
"Brooks," I reply evenly.
"Where are you headed?" he asks, the smirk on his face barely masking the fact that he already knows the answer.
"I think you know."
He tilts his head. "Off to spray tan?"
I roll my eyes. "No. The hospital."
"Right. That’s usually where you go when you’re not busy filming thirst trap reels of me for the internet."
"You talked to Jasper," I say, ignoring the mention of Lumberjack Hottie.
He shrugs, unbothered. "Maybe."
I study him for a beat. The way a chocolate curl flops onto his forehead. The gray charcoal of his irises, stormy and unreadable. The smug tilt of his lips that always means he’s thinking things I’m not sure I want to know about.
"Thank you," I say. It comes out quiet, steady. Truer than anything I’ve said all week.
He gives me a crooked smile. "Didn’t do it for you." His voice is soft, but his eyes flicker, like maybe that’s not entirely the truth.
"Whatever the reason," I say, "I’m still glad you did."
We stand there, caught in a silence so heavy I could drown in it. The kind of moment that could tilt the earth just a little off its axis. The kind that leaves me wondering what would happen if I just… reached out.
"You want to come with us?" I ask, surprising myself.
He shakes his head slowly. "Nah. I’ll stay here. Keep an eye on things."
"You sure?"
He nods. "Yeah. Besides, I don’t want to intrude."
I let out a soft laugh. "Since when?"
His smile falters, just slightly. "I know I will always be Jasper’s annoying best friend, but I care about you, Ellie. I always have. Always will."
My heart stutters, a single sharp beat that ricochets through my chest. For a moment, the air feels too thin.
I step toward him—impulsively, maybe—and wrap my arms around his midsection.
He freezes for a second before carefully wrapping his arms around me, his hands spreading across my back like he’s afraid I’ll vanish if he holds on too tight.
His chest is warm against my cheek, steady and sure.
We stay like that, suspended in the morning light, in the chirp of birds and the scent of pine.
When I pull back, something has shifted. In him. In me.
"You know," I say, clearing my throat, "without you, this whole family would fall apart."
"Oh, I know," he says with that maddening grin.
"I’m being serious."
"So am I."
I study him, really study him. "You always show up. And I don’t know how you keep doing that, how you have so much of yourself left to give."
He shrugs. "That’s what family does. They show up. Even when it’s hard."
"Not all families operate that way."
"No," he agrees. "But sometimes, the family we choose is the one that actually sticks. The ones who reach for you when they’re barely holding themselves together."
I groan dramatically. "Why are you so wise? It’s disgusting."
"You’re disgusting," he shoots back. "Thanking me like that. Gross."
I laugh, the kind that tugs at something deep inside me. "Let’s do something tomorrow."
He raises an eyebrow. "Like what?"
I shrug. "No idea. Maybe we get in your old truck and see where the road takes us."
He eyes me, suspicious. "To clarify… this is a date?"
"Is that a question or a statement?" I smirk.
"It’s a question."
"It’s a hang, Brooks," I say, already stepping down the porch stairs. "Don’t make it weird."
"I’m disgusting and weird?" he calls after me, laughing. "You sure you want to go on an unplanned adventure with a gross, weird guy like me?"
"I guess we’ll find out tomorrow," I call back as I walk toward my car.
"You should pinch me!" he yells, startling a few birds out of a nearby tree. "Cause I must be dreaming!"
I shake my head, smiling to myself as I get in the car. The laughter echoes behind me, light and human in a world that’s felt too heavy for too long.
For the first time since coming home, I don’t feel like I’m running. Not from my family. Not from the past. Not from myself.
Maybe tomorrow won’t change everything. But it might be gross, weird, and exactly what I need.