"Hello."
One word. That was all it took. One word to snap me out of Yara's cloud of bouncy ball energy and drop the temperature in the house by twenty degrees. My girl was multitalented like that. "Brooke, this is Yara Gwynn. Yara, Brooke. Her father is the one with the injury."
"Thank you for coming." Brooke gestured toward the grandfather clock on the landing between the first and second floors. "Especially at this hour."
If she could've accompanied that gesture with a spray of ice from her hand, she would've. And I loved it. This frigid ray of jealousy was the highlight of my month.
Oblivious to the frost radiating from Brooke, Yara said, "That's what I do! That's what I'm here for!" She grinned at Brooke. "Okay, let's get going. Where's my patient?"
As I'd expected, Yara handled the shit out of the situation. She got on Judge Markham's good side by starting a Murder, She Wrote debate and managed to clean and patch the wound with some medical-grade Krazy Glue. She recommended feeding him some ice cream laced with two crushed sleeping pills and waited around to make sure he nodded off without incident.
For Brooke's part, she pretended I didn't exist for the entirety of Yara's visit. As much as I marveled at her transformation into a frozen block of resentment, I remembered how much I hated being invisible to her.
Once Yara was headed home and the Judge was secure in his bed, I dragged Brooke into the first room I could find. It was a bathroom, but I didn't give a damn. "Come on." I backed her up against the door, pressed my lips to her neck. "Ease up, Bam. It's just you and me."
"I have one question for you," she said. "How is it possible to have sex with someone who doesn't stay still for more than five seconds at a time?"
"You're so cute when you're jealous," I replied. "I've never seen this look on you before. I fucking love it."
She laughed, her whole body quaking against me. "I'm not jealous of anything. I'm merely pointing out that you know Dr. Gwynn more intimately than you might've suggested at the outset." She tilted her head back, batted her lashes as she hit me with an evil pout. Absolutely evil. "And she misses you, Jed."
I didn't stop to think before driving my fingers through her hair and kissing her as if I wanted to steal those words from her lips. She stayed rigid for a half second, but then all that ice melted away. She fisted my shirt, my belt, pulling me closer and forcing out the last of the distance between us. I held her, I kissed her, I drowned in her.
"Brooke," I rasped against her skin. "Talk to me, sweetheart. Tell me you're all right."
"I'm not talking about anything until you tell me something first."
I went back to her lips, kissing, biting, tasting her tongue. "Anything."
"When was the last time you got in Yara's snow pants?"
I ducked my head to her neck and kissed her there. I stopped short of sucking a mark into her skin. "About two years ago." I could give you the exact date if you wanted it. "Maybe a little more than that."
"Why weren't you surprised when you walked in here tonight?"
"Why did you think I wouldn't know?" I asked. "I've known since the day the Judge came into the tavern for dinner and asked whether I thought it was time for Nixon to resign. I've known since before you came home and since before his accident. I know you can't handle this on your own, but more importantly, you don't have to, Bam. You don't have to be the one picking up the pieces and holding them all together."
"Does everyone know? Is it the worst-kept secret in town?"
"I can't speak for the whole of the town, but I've never heard anyone suggesting anything other than the Judge is getting on in his years. People around here love him and they've granted him a wide berth. Even when he made odd comments or went out in town wearing mismatched clothing, they've assumed the best." When she bit her lower lip, I continued, "I'm telling you the truth, Brooke."
She nodded, but it was hesitant. "He made me promise I wouldn't let people watch him deteriorate and I wouldn't send him away. That's why—that's why I'm here. Why I do this."
"You can keep that promise without shouldering the world on your own. You could've shared this with me." When she started to protest, I swallowed her words with a kiss. "Don't you see? You've let me inside you, but not to any of the places that matter."
Her gaze dropped to my chest, and for a moment, I thought she was going to throw me out of her house. The possibility always existed. But instead of kicking me out, she pressed her face to my chest and let the dam break all over me.
"Bam," I said, pressing a kiss to her temple. There were more tears stored up in her little body than I would've thought possible. "I've got you, sweetheart."
"Will you stay?" she asked through her sniffles and hiccups.
"I'm not going anywhere." I gathered her in my arms and carried her out of the bathroom.
In the hallway, I heard the Judge snoring away like a chainsaw. It was a relief to know he was sorted for the remainder of the night. At the other end of the hall, I found Brooke's room and set her down on the bed. I curled up beside her, my arms tight around her body as she shook with sobs.
We fell asleep on top of the blankets, fully clothed. Somewhere between night and day, we reached for each other, discarding clothes and sliding beneath the sheets. Our bodies twined together, came together, stayed together.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Brooke
Present Value: the current value of cash to be received in the future.
May
"What are we ordering?" Annette asked as she flipped over the menu. "Is it too early for sangria?"
"It's brunch," I replied. "By definition, it's not too early for anything."
"No, I mean, is it too early in the season for sangria," she said. "It's not appropriate to drink sangria until summer, but white peach sangria is on this menu even though it's too early to harvest peaches."
I set my menu aside and laced my hands on the table. I couldn't do this anymore. Not one more minute. "Can I talk to you about something?"
She peeked up at me, smiling. "We can totally skip the sangria. I was getting carried away with the idea of peaches. Would you rather have mimosas?"
"The sangria is fine—or mimosas. Or both. Order everything. I don't care," I said.
"Oooh, look! They have a blackberry mojito," she said. "You'd like—"
"I can't talk about mojitos with you right now because I have a standing dick appointment with JJ Harniczek," I yelled.
The server stopped at our table, glanced between me and Annette, and said, "I'll come back in a few minutes."
Annette blinked at me, her lips parted and the menu clutched to her chest. "Do…you have to leave?"
I pressed my fingers to my temples. "What are you talking about?"
"You said you have a dick appointment," she replied, jerking a shoulder up. "I'm wondering whether you need to leave or if this is taking place here." She glanced around, frowning. "The restrooms, perhaps? The back seat of a car? I don't know. I don't know how it is with you two."
I sat back, dropped my hands to my lap. And then I laughed, deeper and harder than I had in months. Tears clouded my vision as Annette joined in, rocking back and forth in her chair as her shoulders shook.
"I fucking love you," I said to her, mopping my cheeks with a napkin. "I mean it. I fucking love you, Annette."
"You should," she replied. "Now, start from the beginning and tell me everything. Just as you should have when it started. When was that, exactly?"
I glanced down at the menu. "It started last September."
The server returned to the table when Annette said, "It started in September? And you didn't tell me until now? I was prepared for you to say two weeks ago or maybe last month. September? You've hidden this from me since September?"
"Aaaaand I'll be back in a few more minutes," the server sang.
"No, don't go," I cried, clawing at the air in the server's wake. "She needs sangria. A really big pitcher of sangria. And a straw. Please. Please."
The server turned around, nodding. "Sangria," he said. "With a straw."
Annette glared at me, her eyes narrowed and her lips flat. "And one of those blackberry mojitos for the keeper of secrets."
"Sangria with a straw and a blackberry mojito." He gestured to each of us and then brought his palms together. "Can I interest you in a local creamery cheese plate or the rainbow chard dip with crudité and house-made breads?"
"Yes to both." I directed a pleading, hopeful smile toward Annette, but she held on to that glare. "And an order of fries for my very tolerant, very loving friend."
"Perfect." He glanced between us, nodding. "I'll get those orders in for you."
Once we were alone, I leaned forward to layer my hand over hers. "I'm so sorry."
"Just tell me why you've been hiding this from me since September."
"It was late September and it only happened once," I said. "It was actually your idea."
Laughing, she asked, "How was it my idea?"
"You told me to go to the Galley." I held out my hands toward her. "I went to the Galley."
"I specifically told you to aim for tourists," she said, still laughing. "I told you to steer clear of townies. How did you mix that one up?"
"Believe me, I tried. I brought my best game and JJ went ahead and cockblocked me," I replied.
"So, you slept with him?" she asked, shaking her head of dark curls at me.
"Yeah, that's basically what happened. I yelled at him and he yelled back, then I went to his house and told him to get naked and we yelled at each other some more," I admitted. "But it only happened the one time and I swore it wouldn't happen again. That's why I didn't tell you. I didn't want it to become part of the Talbott's Cove narrative."
Annette stared at her water glass for a moment. Then, "First of all, fuck you for suggesting I'd introduce any of your private affairs into the local lore. You know me better than that."
"You're right," I agreed. "You're right and I'm sorry."
"I'm not done with you," she said, wagging a finger in my direction. "Second, it's not cockblocking when a guy gets in the way of you having sex. You can cockblock a guy, but he can't cockblock you."
"That's true," the server said as he set a glass in front of Annette, filled it with sangria, and nestled the pitcher between us. "It's called clamjamming."
I stared up at him as he set the blackberry mojito in front of me. "Thank you for that insight," I said flatly. I turned back toward Annette. "Apparently, JJ clamjammed me. That is why I spent that evening expressing my frustration to him."
"That's reasonable." She reached for her drink. "It must've been good, right? Otherwise, it wouldn't have turned into a regular thing."
"It's not a regular thing. Except it is a regular thing. It is now." When she motioned for me to continue, I said, "Nothing happened for months and months, but then you suggested I go back to the Galley. You said something about getting derailed."
Annette pressed her hands to her cheeks. "I love how you're pinning the blame on me. That's adorable."
"I'm not blaming you so much as highlighting your influence on my life," I replied. "It happened a second time, and even though I promised myself it wouldn't turn into a regular thing, it did."
"Stop doing that! Stop telling yourself you can't have nice things. It's unhealthy." She rolled her eyes at me as she sipped her sangria. "You still haven't told me whether it's any good. I'm assuming it is, since you keep going back for more, but feel free to fill in the blanks."
"It's good," I conceded. "We argue all the time and he drives me crazy, but he's also—he's JJ. He insisted on going back home with me the night Dad fell out of bed and split his head open. He saw it all and…he was great. He helped out, he did everything I needed, and he stayed the night." I took a sip of my drink, shrugged. "But it's not a thing. It's not a relationship, it's not going anywhere. We're just two people who are super bored with Talbott's Cove and we happen to be in the same age band with complementary sexual interests. Of course, we're having sex. It's JJ or…who else, really? Either I hit up the widowers or start robbing cradles. However, the high school cross-country team jogs past the house every afternoon around four. A few of them are men and they've grown up right. There. I've said it. I'm not apologizing."
Annette propped her chin on her fist and stared at me, totally silent, for a full minute. Finally, she said, "It's unreal to be sitting in this seat."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means I've been there, done that, and bought the t-shirt and I'm not letting you take the same trip. Now, listen. I know some people have casual sex and that's how they operate. I know you were that person at some point, but you're not that person right now. You are in a serious, heavy place in your life and while it might sound like a good idea to find someone light and casual to balance it out, that isn't what you need. You would've hopped on a hookup app and found a grad student from one of the college towns nearby if you really wanted casual and light."
I glanced around the restaurant in search of our server. This would've been an awesome time for him to appear with some cheese or unwelcome contributions to our conversation. "It's not?"
"Also," Annette continued, barely stopping for a breath, "JJ isn't a casual-sex guy. You might think he is—"
"Have you met Yara?" I interrupted. "Because I have."
Annette dismissed me with a wave. "Yara is a doll. We should invite her out with us sometime. Once you get to know her vibe, you'll agree."
"Her vibe wants to climb my man like a mainsail."
She steepled her fingers together. "Did you hear that? How you just went all possessive mama bear on a woman he hasn't touched since before you moved home? Because I did and I think it's time for me to rest my casual-sex case."
"I hear what you're saying and I know it sounds like I'm in this real deep, but he wants to keep it low-key," I argued. "He's working on expanding his business and he's doing all these things to help Nate and he's got too much going on for a serious relationship. He was there for me in a pinch, but that doesn't mean he wants to sign up for anything else."
Annette leaned in, whispered, "You, my darling, are full of shit. You are assigning opinions and attitudes to JJ that he probably doesn't possess and you are deciding how things are going to go down without asking what he wants." She stabbed a finger in my direction. "Have you even asked him?"
"I know you're trying to kick me in the ass the way I kicked you, but I'm not planning on staying here that long. I'm not having a heartfelt conversation with JJ about his wants and desires when I know damn well I won't be the one fulfilling them."
"That's news to me," Annette chirped. "What's your endgame? Are you moving your father to an assisted living facility? Are you leaving him in Maine or taking him with you to New York? What's the plan, Brooke?"
"I don't know," I replied. "I don't know, but I can't stay here forever. This isn't home for me anymore and I can't go inventing relationships where none exist because it's where I am right now."
"You'll have to forgive me," she said, tapping her index finger against her lips. "I didn't realize the relationship I thought I had with my maid of honor was a figment of my imagination."
"That's not what I meant," I said. "You know that, Annette."
"What do I know?" she asked. "In the past few minutes, you've announced you have no intention of staying in town and you have no real relationships."
"You are my other half. You're my soul sister. We don't have a relationship, no. We're way past that and you know it."
"Maybe I do know it." She lifted her shoulders. "Maybe I want you to be as honest with JJ as you are with me."
"I don't know about that," I said. "Sisters and misters exist on different planes. But I swear to you, Annette, I am going to rock the shit out of my maid of honor duties. Whatever it takes, I'm here for it. Bridal showers, bachelorette parties, dress fittings, cake tastings, seating charts—you name it, I'm there. I'm holding your dress while
you pee."
"It's really convenient how you can commit to events that won't take place for twelve to eighteen months, but you won't commit to anything with JJ. Super convenient."
"Oh my god, Annette. Can we talk about sex now? Please. There are so many things I want to tell you. Is Jackson licking your ass? If not, go home and ask for that, pronto. You can thank me later."
"And here are the local creamery cheeses," the server announced.
"Right on time," Annette murmured.
Once we were alone with the cheese, I gestured toward her with a chunk of bread, saying, "His dick is unfortunately large."
She stared at the table, shaking her head. "I know I'm going to regret asking but…what's the threshold between fortunately and unfortunately large?"
"I haven't studied that in exact terms," I admitted. "I just know I've crossed it because there are times when I'm certain he's rearranging my intestines."
"That's really great for you. Not so much for your digestion, but it sounds like a good problem to have."
"Yeah," I said around a bite of cheese. "I mean, I've left his place feeling like I need to hold my vagina together because I'm sure he's hammered some dents into it and I don't want to risk it falling out."
Annette brought her fingers to her temples. "Oh my god, Brooke. Oh my god."
"See," I replied. "You know what I mean."
She tipped back her glass, gulping the sangria. "I might, but I'm not going there with you."
"If I had sex with him every day," I continued, "I'd need a strict program of warm baths, physical therapy to keep that shit tight, and voodoo. And lube."
"It sounds like you have your priorities in order. That should be helpful going forward."
"Well, we're not going forward." I speared my knife into the goat cheese. "I'm riding out a phase."
"I see what you did there and it is hilarious," Annette replied lightly. "Riding out a phase. Nice."
"In all seriousness, how do you have sex every night and keep your vag from falling out? Wait, is Jackson's penis unfortunately small?"
Far Cry: A Talbott’s Cove Novel Page 15
