His Heart

by Claire Kingsley

  “So they shouldn’t have given a shit about me?” I asked.

  “Maybe they should have given a shit about me,” she said, stepping closer. “He was my brother.”

  “Is that why you resent me so much?” I asked. “Because of the way your parents treated me after he died?”

  “You have no idea what it was like,” she said. “And it never really stopped. Everyone jumps to come to your fucking rescue. I lost my brother and everyone was so busy worrying about you, they didn’t bother to worry about me.”

  “And you think that was my fault?” I asked. “You think I asked for that? For any of it? I would have done anything to have him back. To have not gone on that stupid trip.”

  “But you did,” she said. “He wanted to rescue you, too. He couldn’t fucking help himself.”

  The meaning behind her words screamed at me. It made my anger boil, running through my veins like fire. “Because he loved me.”

  “Yeah, and it killed him,” she said. “He fucking died because of you.”

  My hand flew, my open palm striking her cheek with a loud smack. She stepped back, grabbing the side of her face while I stared at her in horror. Without a word, she grabbed her coat and ran out the door. Slammed it behind her.

  I staggered backward, my heart racing. Oh my god. What had I done? I’d hit her. I’d gotten so angry, I’d slapped her across the face.

  Just like my mom had done to me.

  Her tires squealed as she backed out of the driveway. How could I have done that? To her, of all people. I covered my mouth as I choked out a sob.

  God, what was wrong with me? Why was I such a fucking disaster? I stumbled to my room and shut the door behind me. I thought about getting my phone—trying to call or text her. But what different would it make? It was better if she left me—if she stayed away. It would be better if everyone did.

  35

  Brooke

  When Sebastian opened the door, I couldn’t look him in the eyes. I saw the first twitch of his smile, but I glanced away and stepped past him into his house.

  “Hey,” he said. “What’s wrong?”

  I took a few more steps, trying to keep distance between us. If he held me—if he so much as touched me—I’d lose my resolve. I wouldn’t be strong enough to do what I knew had to be done.

  “I need to talk to you,” I said.

  “Sure,” he said. “We’ve got the place to ourselves. I don’t know where Charlie went. Is he with Olivia?”

  Oh my god, he didn’t know. “I guess so.”

  “Brooke, you’re really freaking me out right now,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  “I hit Olivia.”

  He didn’t say anything. I glanced back over my shoulder, terrified of what I’d see.

  His eyes were intense, piercing through me. “What happened?”

  “She came home angry at me for missing work,” I said. “We got in an argument and I hit her.”

  “Holy shit,” he said. “When?”

  “A little while ago,” I said. “She left. I assume she’s with Charlie now. Hopefully.”

  “You guys argued about work?” he asked. “How did that turn into…”

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  He took a step toward me, tentative like he was afraid of scaring me away. “Actually, it kind of does.”

  “I got angry, and I slapped her,” I said. “That’s what happened.”

  “You can tell me the whole story,” he said. “I’m not going to flip out on you.”

  “I told you, it doesn’t matter,” I said.

  “Okay,” he said. “Here’s what we’ll do. Give her time to calm down. I’m sure Charlie’s working on that. She’ll sleep here tonight, and we can all get together in the morning. We’ll figure this out.”

  “No, we won’t,” I said. “There’s nothing to figure out.”

  “So, you’re just going to throw away your friendship with her?” he asked. “Over one fight?”

  “Not because of one fight,” I said. “Because all I’ve ever done is fuck things up for her. She had this nice family, living in a nice house, and then I showed up. She had to share everything with me, whether she liked it or not. Her room. Her parents. Her brother.”

  “I don’t think it was like that,” he said. “You and Olivia were good friends back then, weren’t you?”

  “Everything fell apart when he died,” I said. “And maybe she was right. Maybe it was my fault.”

  “Whoa,” he said, holding up a hand. “Stop right there. Is that what she said? Did Olivia tell you Liam’s death was your fault?”

  “It was, in a way,” I said. “If he had never met me, he wouldn’t have been on the road that day.”

  “Brooke, you can’t think like that,” he said.

  “I put his family through hell,” I said. “I was too weak to handle his death. So I just said fuck it. And then they kept trying to help me, Seb. They kept fucking trying. And for what?”

  “For you,” he said. “They kept trying because they cared about you.”

  I shook my head and my breath came in shaky gasps. “They shouldn’t have. They should have sent me back home the night my mother left. Or called social services. They never should have let me in their lives.”

  “Brooke, what the fuck are you talking about?”

  “This is what happens with me,” I said. “Don’t you see it? I’m a mess. That’s all I’ll ever be. It’s going to keep happening, over and over. It doesn’t matter if I do okay for a while. I can’t sustain it. She couldn’t, and I can’t either.”

  “She?” he asked. “Are you talking about your mom? Brooke, you’re not your mother.”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not her. But I’m made of the same stuff. For a while I thought maybe I wasn’t. I didn’t get pregnant when I was a teenager, or get addicted to drugs. But the details don’t matter. Just like her, sooner or later, I hurt the people I love. I fuck things up. I get my shit all over their lives. I can’t do that anymore.”

  “So you’re going to blow off Olivia?” he asked.

  “I’m not talking about Olivia.”

  His face hardened and he crossed his arms over his wide chest. He stood with his feet shoulder width apart, a huge immovable wall of man, glowering at me. His eyebrows drew down and the veins in his muscular arms stood out.

  “I know what you’re doing,” he said.

  “Sebastian, you have to understand.” My throat felt thick. “My mother’s greatest act of love was to leave me. She did it to give me a chance. It’s not her fault it didn’t work. She had her own demons to fight, and they killed her. She left someone behind who was gutted and broken, because he couldn’t save her. You can’t save me, either. And I love you too much to let you torture yourself trying.”

  He didn’t respond. Just stared at me, arms crossed.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. God, this hurt so much. “You need to go do all those things you want to do. Go finish school. Get your architecture degree. Live your dreams.”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  I blinked at him. “What? I don’t know.”

  “Are you going to go to work?”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I asked. “I’m telling you I can’t be with you, and you’re worried about my fucking job?”

  “I’m wondering how badly you’re planning to self-destruct,” he said. “I see what you’re doing right now, Brooke. If this is what you think you need, then fine. Walk away. But I see through your bullshit.”

  “This isn’t bullshit,” I said, my voice rising. “I don’t know why you want to be with someone like me anyway. Look at your family, where you grew up. Do you think I fit in that world? You know where I come from, Seb? Houses filled with cigarette smoke. Weed. Fucking piles of beer cans, or little pieces of foil with burn marks lying around. I grew up with a mom who’d hit me for looking at her wrong. Who was so skinny, she looked like she never ate. We were so poor, one year
my only Christmas present was a half-used coloring book and a ballpoint pen from our landlord.”

  “None of that is your fault,” he said. “None of that is you.”

  “No?” I asked. “I had a fiancé and a family who loved me. And sure, for a while, I lived like a normal girl. I even went to college. But after a while? I went right back to what I really was. The drunk girl in a fucking bar, hanging on a guy who’d give me a black eye.”

  He shook his head. “We both know that isn’t who you are.”

  “That’s what I’m trying to tell you,” I said. “That’s exactly who I am. It’s where I go back to, every time. Nice, normal people try to help me, and all I do is leave more damage in my wake.”

  “Brooke—”

  “No,” I said. “I’m not going to ruin your second chance at life. That heart inside of you deserves better. Liam did, and you do too.”

  He blocked my path to the door, so I veered around him, keeping my head down. I couldn’t look at his face. I didn’t want to hurt him, but that was inevitable. At least this way it would be over and he could move on with his life. That was what I wanted for him. To live. To take that second chance he’d been given and run with it. Not spend it pointlessly trying to fix someone like me.

  I slammed the door behind me. Sebastian didn’t follow.

  I walked home in the cold, my breath misting out in a cloud. I tried to imagine what my mom had felt, the night I’d gone to the Harper’s for good. What had she been thinking when she’d walked back inside that house? When she’d driven away, leaving me behind? I’d always thought she must have been relieved. I’d been a burden she’d been stuck with. A consequence for not being careful.

  Liam had said she’d left me because she’d loved me. I’d never really believed that until now. Until I was faced with the same choice.

  But if she’d felt relief that night—even relief that her daughter was in better hands—I didn’t feel the same. I’d hoped I would feel lighter, knowing I’d done the right thing. But all I felt was the oppressive weight of loneliness. The ache in my chest spread wide, consuming me. I was so hollow. So empty.

  Sebastian had put my heart back inside of me, and for a while, it had beat in time with his. But I’d left it with him. He could keep it. I didn’t need it anymore.

  36

  Sebastian

  If Brooke was aware of how often I checked up on her, she didn’t let on. Maybe I was stealthier than my size would imply. I didn’t let it mess with my life. I went to my classes. Studied. Hung out with Charlie sometimes. But I always found ways to see what she was doing.

  It wasn’t difficult, considering how rarely she left her house. She didn’t go to work. I had no idea if she’d actually quit, if she was pulling her sick routine, or if she’d just stopped going without explanation. I wanted to go talk to her boss, but I decided against it. Even if he listened to me, what good would it do? It wasn’t like I could drag her down there and make her show up.

  She was self-destructing, and it was fucking painful to watch.

  At first, I’d figured I’d let a few days go by, give her space, and wait for her to come back. But a few days turned into a week, and I didn’t hear from her. It was hard not to call, or go see her. I knew she was hurting, and every bit of me wanted to make her feel better. But I waited.

  Olivia basically moved in. None of us talked about Brooke. It was this giant fucking elephant in the room that we all pretended to ignore. It was stupid, but the one time I’d almost brought up what was happening, Charlie had tried to murder me with his eyes.

  I didn’t blame Olivia for being mad. Hearing Brooke had slapped her had been a shock. It wasn’t cool, but I knew there was more to it. If Olivia had thrown Liam’s death in her face—said it had been Brooke’s fault… well, she didn’t deserve to get hit. No one did. But it made it easier to understand why Brooke had been mad enough to do it.

  But Brooke had pushed everyone away. She was completely alone, and I hated it.

  I’d been putting off seeing my parents, so when they asked me to come to dinner, I agreed. I drove out to Waverly—alone this time. Didn’t even tell Charlie I was going. I wasn’t in the mood for any of it, but at least I’d get my mom’s cooking out of the deal.

  Although, if Cami was there, I’d turn around and leave.

  Thankfully, it was just my mom and dad. I went inside and chatted with them in the kitchen while they finished getting dinner ready. Small talk, mostly. They didn’t ask about Brooke, or why I’d come alone.

  My mom had made enough food to feed ten people, but that was typical. We sat down at the table together, but the quiet was distracting. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been here without at least Charlie along. But this was how it had been, once. Just us three.

  “How are your classes going?” Dad asked.

  “Fine.” I hadn’t told them about applying to other schools, but it was one of the reasons I’d come. “I actually switched a couple of classes last minute, but it’s worked out fine.”

  “Switched?” Dad asked. “Why?”

  “So I could get prerequisites out of the way,” I said. “I’m applying to architecture programs.”

  Dad put his fork down. “Architecture? Why would you do that?”

  “Because I want to be an architect,” I said. If he was going to ask an obvious question, I’d give an obvious answer.

  “Since when?” he asked.

  I shrugged. “I’ve thought about it for a while. This is what I want to do.”

  “But honey,” Mom said, “you’re almost finished with your degree. You don’t want to be in school that much longer, do you?”

  “That was a consideration, but I decided it would be worth it.”

  My parents looked at each other like they were baffled.

  Dad’s brow furrowed. “I guess this means…”

  “It means I’m not going to move back here and work for you,” I said. “I’m sorry, Dad. I know that’s what you wanted for me. But that just isn’t what I want to do with my life.”

  “Son, this is something I can do for you,” Dad said. “Something I can give you. I built up this business from nothing. I wasn’t just going to have you work for me. You’d do that until you had some experience, and then I was going to hand it over to you.”

  “I know,” I said. “But I don’t need you to give this to me. You’ve already given me everything. You guys raised me well, gave me a good, solid home.” I met my mom’s eyes. “And you didn’t give up on me when I was ready to throw in the towel.”

  My mom took a deep breath. “I’m not sure what to say.”

  “I’ve been trying to figure out what I’m supposed to do with my life ever since it sank in that I was going to get to have one,” I said. “And I think I’m finally starting to.”

  Dad nodded slowly. “All right, then. What schools are you thinking about?”

  I couldn’t help but grin a little. On to practical matters. That was my dad. “I’ve applied to Virginia Tech, University of Texas, and University of Michigan.”

  Mom’s mouth hung open, her worry lines deepening.

  “Mom,” I cut in before she could say anything. “I know, they’re far away. But they’re the best fits.”

  “You’ve already applied,” Dad said. It was more a statement than a question.

  “Once I made the decision, I was all in,” I said.

  Dad chuckled. “Of course you were. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

  “Oh, Sebastian,” Mom said.

  Dad put his hand over hers. “He’ll be fine. Look at him. You wanted our son back. I’d say we got him, and then some.”

  It felt damn good to hear him say that. “Thanks, Dad.”

  “What about your girlfriend?” Dad asked, and Mom looked down at the table. “She going with you?”

  I knew they’d ask about Brooke, and I didn’t have a good answer. I hated living without her. It felt wrong down to the very core of my being. And the long
er I went without seeing her, the more I started to wonder if she was ever going to come around.

  I’d tried to imagine moving away without her. Going to school in another city and leaving her behind. The problem was, without her, all my plans fell apart. All my dreams and aspirations had her in them.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, and it was the honest truth.

  “All right,” Dad said. “I can’t say I’m not disappointed. I was looking forward to having you close by. But I’m proud of you.”

  “Thanks, Dad.”

  After dinner, I drove home with a full stomach—and half a cheesecake I knew Charlie would devour. I felt good about the way I’d left things with my parents. They’d hugged me at the door, and both of them had told me again that they were proud of me.

  But the closer I got to Iowa City, the deeper my sense of unease grew. I’d been making sure Brooke wasn’t out doing anything that would get her hurt—or worse—and so far she hadn’t done anything crazy. At least, not that I knew of. But her silence was painful. I was starting to look at the future with a new sense of who I was, and who I was going to become. But none of it mattered without her.

  I didn’t love her because of some weird transplant phenomenon. It wasn’t like the random cravings I got for peach iced tea. But there was an element I couldn’t explain. Liam’s heart had recognized hers the day we met.

  But the bond we’d forged was ours. It was built on the ashes our former lives—our former selves. We were two people who had been through fire. We’d suffered pain, tragedy, and loss. And yet, in the aftermath, we’d found each other. And as far as I was concerned, a life lived together was the only option.

  She had my heart, and she always would. It had belonged to her before it had belonged to me. It belonged to her still. I just hoped she’d realize it before it was too late.

  37

  Brooke

  The bartender put a glass of whiskey on a napkin in front of me. I nodded my thanks, and he left to see to his other customers.