His Heart

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His Heart Page 12

by Claire Kingsley


  That made me think of Brooke, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that.

  “How did it go today?” Charlie asked. “You haven’t really said anything.”

  “It was intense,” I said. “They were such nice people. It sucks that their son died. They wanted to know about me and my illness and everything. And they told me a lot about Liam. It was good, though. I think they felt good about meeting me.”

  He nodded. “Sounds like it was worth the trip.”

  “Definitely,” I said. “A weird thing happened afterward, though.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Liam’s fiancée, Brooke, was supposed to be at lunch, but she didn’t show. It was obvious the Harpers were really worried about her. And their daughter, Olivia, was kinda pissed.”

  “She was pissed at this Brooke chick for not being there?” he asked.

  “Yeah, but more frustrated because she was concerned about her, I think. Anyway, when I left, I saw Brooke across the street.”

  “How did you know it was her?” he asked. “Did they show you pictures?”

  “No, I’d never seen her,” I said. “But I took one look at her, and I knew.”

  Charlie furrowed his brow. “How the hell did you know?”

  “I said it was weird. I have no idea. But I saw her and there was no doubt in my mind it was her. So, I talked to her.”

  “You what?”

  “I went across the street and talked to her,” I said.

  He chuckled. “What did you do, just walk up and ask who she was?”

  “Basically, yeah.”

  “Only you, man,” he said. “What was she like?”

  “Beautiful,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Charlie raised his eyebrows. “Um, okay. What’s that about?”

  “Never mind,” I said. God, where had that come from? But she hadn’t just been beautiful. She’d been haunting. I hadn’t been able to stop thinking about her since we’d met. “That doesn’t matter. She wasn’t sure about me, but I wound up buying her a cup of coffee and talking to her for a while.”

  “Wow,” he said. “How did that go?”

  “Okay, I think. She didn’t stay long. But I gave her my number before she left.”

  “Dude,” Charlie said. “You can’t hit on her. That’s just… really wrong.”

  “Fuck off, I wasn’t hitting on her,” I said.

  Charlie raised his eyebrows at me in disbelief. The waitress brought our dinners and we paused while she set our plates in front of us.

  “Then why did you give her your number?” he asked when the waitress had left. “That sounds like hitting on her to me.”

  “It just seemed like the right thing to do,” I said. “In case she ever needs anything, I guess.”

  He picked up his fork and shook his head. “Sure. It had nothing to do with the fact that she’s cute.”

  “No, it didn’t,” I said. “And I never said anything about her being cute.”

  “Right, you said beautiful. That’s completely different.”

  I cut into my chicken and took a bite. “That’s not why. It was the look in her eyes—her expression.”

  “What do you mean?” he asked. “What did she look like?”

  “Like she’s broken,” I said. “I know that look. It’s how I looked before the transplant, when I’d given up.”

  Charlie paused and nodded. He understood. He was one of the few people who’d seen me in those last days before the surgery. I had given up. I’d been waiting for a death that wouldn’t come fast enough. Brooke had looked as if she were waiting for the same thing.

  I’d hated seeing her that way. It was strange, because I didn’t know her. I didn’t remember her smile, or what she’d sounded like when she’d been happy. But the deadness in her eyes had been gut-wrenching.

  My phone rang and I pulled it out of my pocket to glance at the screen. I didn’t recognize the number. “That’s weird.”

  Charlie just shrugged and took another bite.

  I swiped to answer. “Hey, this is Seb.”

  A woman’s voice. “Um…”

  I waited a second, but she didn’t say anything else. “Hello?”

  More silence. I figured it was a wrong number and was about to hang up when she spoke again, her voice halting.

  “Seb… Sebastian?”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “Oh god, I’m sorry.”

  “Brooke?” I asked. Charlie’s eyebrows lifted. The other end of the line went quiet again, but noise in the background told me the call was still connected. “Brooke, is that you?”

  “Yes.”

  I sat up straight, my food forgotten, all my instincts on high alert. Something was very wrong. “Brooke, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  I shook my head at Charlie. She’s not okay.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “I shouldn’t have called you,” she said.

  “Yes, you should have,” I said, worried she was going to hang up. “It’s cool. What happened? Are you hurt?”

  Her voice was so small. “Yes.”

  I nodded at Charlie. He pulled out his wallet and tossed some money on the table as we both got up.

  “Where are you?” I asked. We were already out the door, on the way to my car. “Don’t hang up, Brooke. Stay with me. Just tell me where you are.”

  We got in the car. Fastened seat belts. Started the engine.

  “I’m… um…”

  God, Brooke, don’t hang up.

  “It’s a restaurant,” she said. “Sunrise Diner.”

  I repeated it and Charlie punched it into his phone.

  “Got it,” he said.

  I put Brooke on speaker and pulled out onto the street. “Brooke, hang in there, okay? Don’t move. I’m on my way.”

  “Okay.”

  The relief in her voice hit me square in the chest. This girl was scared. Not just scared—terrified. It made me wonder what we were about to walk into. But there was no way I could leave this alone. Not when it was her.

  I followed the navigation across town, my back tense. “You still with me?”

  “Yes,” she said.

  It took ten minutes to get there. I kept talking to Brooke, making sure she stayed on the line, and hoped we were going to the right place.

  Charlie pointed to a rundown building with a broken neon sign. “That it?”

  “Yeah.” I found a parking spot out front. “Brooke, we’re here.”

  She hung up, so I pocketed my phone. The bell on the door jingled when we walked in. A woman with orange-red hair and bright pink lipstick stood next to a booth toward the back, her arms crossed. Her name tag said Betty Jean. She eyed us with open suspicion as we walked toward her.

  Of course, Charlie and I were big guys. We probably looked pretty intimidating.

  Brooke was curled up in the booth, in the corner by the wall. Her hair hung over her face.

  “Hey,” I said, crouching down and resting my hands on the end of the table. “What happened?”

  She looked up and my heart squeezed. Charlie muttered, “Holy shit,” behind me. She had the beginnings of a black eye and one side of her mouth was swollen. Anger flooded through me. Someone had hit her. I’d fucking kill them.

  Her eyes darted from me to Betty Jean. “I’m sorry. He broke my phone. I had your number in my pocket.”

  “Yeah, good,” I said. “I’m glad you called me.”

  She sniffed. “I wasn’t sure what to do.”

  “She didn’t want to call the cops yet,” Betty Jean said. “You guys are friends of hers?”

  I stood and glanced back at Charlie. “Yeah, we’re Brooke’s friends. We’ll take it from here.”

  Brooke clutched her bag but Betty Jean made no move to get out of her way so she could get up.

  “You hurt this girl, and I’ll find you,” Betty Jean said. “I’ll find you and I’ll cut your balls off. I don’t care how big you are. Got i
t?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” I said with a nod. I had no doubt she meant it.

  She seemed satisfied, and stepped out of the way. Brooke got up and put her bag over her shoulder.

  “Let’s go,” I said, keeping my voice gentle. I looked at Betty Jean. “Thanks for helping her.”

  She just nodded.

  I led Brooke outside to my car. She got in the passenger’s side and Charlie got in the back, behind me, like he was giving her space.

  “Who did this to you?” I asked.

  She didn’t look at me. “Guy I’m staying with.”

  “We should call the police,” I said.

  “No,” she said, fear and desperation in her voice. “Please don’t.”

  Tears glistened in her eyes. I wanted to wrap my arms around her—hold her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Which was crazy. I barely knew this girl. But god, the urge was so strong.

  “Okay, no cops for now,” I said.

  She nodded and gingerly touched her lip.

  Charlie hadn’t said anything, but I knew he was going to think I was nuts. Or stupid. But I didn’t care. I punched the address to our hotel into my phone.

  “Brooke, this is Charlie,” I said, nodding toward him. “He came out from Iowa with me. We’re staying at a hotel not far from here. I’m going to take you there for now, okay?”

  She nodded again.

  We drove to the hotel in silence. I wanted to know what had happened—who had hurt her. Whoever he was, I wanted to break his face. Make him look ten times worse than Brooke. Fucking coward.

  Brooke kept her arms wrapped around herself, her face turned away from me. She had her bag on her lap; she’d had it with her earlier too. We pulled up in front of the hotel and I found a parking spot.

  The three of us went to the room. Charlie and I waited while Brooke disappeared into the bathroom.

  “What are we going to do?” Charlie asked, his voice low.

  “I don’t know.” I sat down on the edge of one of the beds.

  “Bro, you don’t know anything about this girl,” he said. “And she looks like a fucking mess. You have no idea what you’re getting involved in.”

  “I know.”

  “Okay, so why are we not calling the police and letting them handle it?” he asked.

  “Look, I just wanted to get her somewhere safe,” I said. “When she comes out, we’ll figure out what to do.”

  “Yeah, okay,” he said.

  The bathroom door opened and we looked up. Brooke came out looking marginally better. She was still wearing the cut-off shorts I’d seen her in earlier, but now she had a shirt with long, wide sleeves and tiny flowers embroidered down the front. She’d cleaned the dried blood off her lip, but her bruises stood out, purpling red against her skin.

  “She should put some ice on that,” Charlie said. He got up, grabbed the ice bucket, and left.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you,” Brooke said. “You don’t even know me.”

  “I told you, it’s okay,” I said. “I wouldn’t have given you my number if I hadn’t meant it. I’m glad you had someone to call.”

  She nodded.

  “Are you hurt anywhere else?” I asked.

  She pushed up the sleeves of her shirt, revealing dark red splotches on her wrists and forearms. “Here, too. But that’s all.”

  “Who did this?” I asked. “Your boyfriend?”

  “He’s not really my boyfriend,” she said. “I guess he thinks so.”

  “Will you tell me what happened?”

  She pulled her sleeves down and sank onto the bed beside me. “I’ve been crashing at his place for a while. After I saw you earlier, I went home. When he came back a couple of hours later, he kind of freaked out on me.”

  “Why?”

  “I told him no.”

  Rage swirled in my gut, but I kept a lid on it. This wasn’t her fault, and I didn’t want to scare her by getting angry. “We should call the police.”

  “No,” she said. “I don’t want to deal with the cops.”

  “Why not?” I asked. “He assaulted you.”

  She stood. “Back off.”

  “Hey, I’m just trying to help.”

  “Jesus,” she said, rolling her eyes, her demeanor suddenly defensive. “I took some stuff earlier that’s not exactly legal and I’d rather not get arrested for it, okay?”

  “What did you take?” I knew she’d probably been drinking. She smelled faintly of alcohol. But I needed to know what else I was getting into here.

  “Just some Xanax,” she said. “It’s not a big deal. But I didn’t get them from a pharmacy, you know? And after the last few weeks I’ve had, it would be just my luck and I’d get busted.”

  “You do that often?” I asked.

  “No,” she said. “Just once in a while.”

  “But you drink a lot?”

  “Why are you asking me about this? It’s none of your business.”

  “Maybe it’s time someone made it their business,” I said.

  “I have to go.” She grabbed her bag and made for the door. “I shouldn’t have called you.”

  I stood. “Brooke.”

  She stopped in front of the door.

  “Do you have a place to go?” I asked, knowing she probably didn’t. There was a reason she’d called a perfect stranger, and it wasn’t because she had a lot of options. “I’ll take you if you do.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “What about the Harpers? Should I call them?”

  “No,” she said, whirling around. “Please don’t. I can’t let them see me like this.”

  The pain and desperation in her eyes cut through me. The desire to hold her was almost more than I could resist. “Only if you stay. If you leave, I’ll call them. And the police.”

  Charlie came back in with the ice and handed me the bucket. “If you’ve got this, I could use a shower.

  “Yeah, thanks, man.” I grabbed a towel and wrapped some ice in it.

  He nodded, and after a quick glance at Brooke, he went into the bathroom.

  Brooke put her bag down and sat on the edge of the bed. Carefully, I held the ice up to her face. She put her hand over it and took a shuddering breath.

  “I’m sorry, Sebastian,” she said. “I’m really screwed up. I should go and get out of your way. You don’t want my mess in your life.”

  “Don’t worry about that right now,” I said. “When was the last time you ate?”

  “What?” she asked, glancing at me. “I don’t know.”

  “Here’s what we’ll do,” I said. “I’ll go get some food. You eat something, drink some water, and flush that shit out of your system. You can stay here tonight—sleep everything off. Charlie and I won’t mess with you. You’ll be safe here.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that.”

  “You didn’t. I offered,” I said. “We’ll figure out what to do next in the morning, okay?”

  She nodded. “Okay.”

  I got up, satisfied that we had a plan. “I’ll be right back. Don’t take off.”

  “I won’t,” she said, her voice quiet. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

  God, it hurt to hear her say that. What had happened to this girl?

  “I’ll see you in a few.” I opened the door.

  “Sebastian?”

  I looked at her over my shoulder. Even with bruises and tangled hair, she was so fucking beautiful. Her eyes did something to me. Her voice spoke to a place deep in my soul. I couldn’t explain it. But it made me think I should find a place to drop her off as soon as possible and get my ass back to Iowa. This girl was dangerous.

  “Yeah?”

  “Thank you.”

  I just nodded and left to get her some dinner.

  18

  Brooke

  After bringing us all dinner, Sebastian sat with me and ate. Made sure I drank a huge bottle of water. I was going to have to pee at least half a dozen times tonight after so much liqu
id. But he was probably right—I needed it. I already felt a little better.

  Charlie cast wary glances my way, but he didn’t say much. After we finished eating, the guys cleaned up. They gave me one of the two beds, and shared the other one. I tried to tell them I’d sleep on the floor, but they both looked at me like I was nuts for even suggesting it.

  My face throbbed where Jared had hit me, but the ice had helped. A little, at least. I scooted back on the bed and laid down, resting my head on the pillow.

  Meeting Sebastian earlier had left me reeling. I’d gone back to the house and downed some Xanax that I’d bought off a guy recently. I hadn’t lied to Sebastian about the drugs. I didn’t take shit like that very often. I didn’t want to turn out like my mother.

  But Sebastian had ripped me open, leaving my grief raw and exposed. I’d needed to be numb again. I couldn’t cope with all those emotions.

  I’d expected Jared to be gone all night, so I’d chased the pills with a few shots of cheap whiskey. All I’d cared about was dulling the pain that threatened to break me. But their drummer and bassist had both come down with food poisoning, so they’d canceled their gig and come home.

  While two of the guys took turns puking in the bathroom, Jared had wanted to spend his evening fucking me.

  I’d slept with him before. Why had today been any different? I’d been pretty wasted, so it shouldn’t have been a big deal. But I hadn’t been able to do it. I’d taken one look at him and realized I’d never sleep with him again.

  All I’d been able to think about was Sebastian.

  Why, I had no idea. Sebastian wasn’t anyone to me. He’d seemed like a nice enough guy, but I had no responsibility to him. Meeting him shouldn’t have changed anything.

  But it had. Meeting him had changed everything.

  Jared had been pissed when I’d said no. He’d accused me of cheating. I’d pointed out we weren’t exclusive, considering he slept with other girls whenever he wanted. That had only made him more angry, and he’d hit me.

  I’d been hit before. But being smacked by my mom was nothing compared to being punched by a grown man. He’d hit me so hard, I’d spun with the impact and wound up on the floor. The pain had been shocking, making me gasp for breath.

 

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