Someone to Trust (Life Unexpected Book 2)

by Melanie D. Snitker

  “I appreciate it.”

  Anna turned to Brooke. “If you change your mind about me staying, call me.”

  “I will. You’ve been a huge help but you deserve a break. Go home to your husband.”

  “Don’t forget to take more medicine at eight.”

  “I won’t. Promise. Thanks, Anna.” She accepted the careful hug her friend gave her.

  Anna put the ice cream back in the freezer and pointed at Chess. “Take good care of her.”

  Chess waved his goodbye and locked the front door behind her. He came back and sat on the arm of the chair opposite Brooke, his arms crossed in front of him. “I heard you had a rough night.”

  Brooke sighed. “Joel told you.” Of course, he did. It was impossible to keep a secret in this family. She wanted to be annoyed, but she knew both guys were worried about her. “Yeah, last night wasn’t much fun. But I made it and learned a valuable lesson.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Keep up with the acetaminophen.” She nodded slowly and then offered him a smile, hoping to put him at ease.

  He returned it, though a bit tentative. “And you’re sure you don’t need them to stay with you again tonight?”

  She released a long-suffering sigh. “I’m sure.”

  Chess seemed to disagree but said nothing.

  Brooke put the lid on her own carton and before she could move, Chess took it and the spoon into the kitchen. When he returned, he was all business. “You ready for me to help you change the bandage?”

  “Yes, thank you. All the supplies they gave me are up there on the counter in that bag.”

  Chess got it and spread the items out on the coffee table. “All right, let’s get this old one off first and see what we’ve got.”

  Brooke scooted to the edge of the couch and lifted her chin so Chess could see better. Compared to her ribs, Brooke hadn’t thought about the head laceration as much.

  Chess gingerly peeled the soiled gauze until the cut was exposed. His eyes shifted to hers. “You alright?”

  She nodded and moved a little, trying to take some of the pressure off her injured ribs. “I’m fine.” The air felt cool against her wound and Brooke resisted the urge to lift her hand and touch it. “How bad is it?”

  “Considering the damage to your car, I’d say you were lucky.”

  Brooke’s brows rose, and she grimaced against the pain. “Did you go by the lot?”

  He nodded and pulled his phone out. He opened the photos and gave her the device.

  As she thumbed through the half dozen pictures, her throat became dry. “Wow. I had no idea it was this bad.” She handed the phone back to him. “If I’d been hit any other way, or if someone had been in the passenger seat…” her voice faltered. “Praise God it wasn’t any worse.”

  Chess put the phone away and pointed to the paper bag. “I brought back what I could find in the car. Your snow globe from Joel and Anna didn’t even break.” He studied her face. “You should go peek at your head in the mirror if you want to.”

  Curiosity got the best of her and she stood slowly. After the headaches and dizzy spells last night, she had learned to take it easy. Thankfully, any similar reaction today was minor in comparison. She made her way to the bathroom, aware that Chess was following close behind.

  She cringed when she saw the laceration. It was high on her forehead, but still visible, and the whole area around it was bruised. “Well, that’s going to leave an ugly scar.” She frowned at the image of herself.

  “You’re beautiful, Brooke. The scar will only add character.”

  Chess’s husky voice brought her gaze up to intersect with his in the mirror. Her heart leapt to her throat.

  “I’ll wait for you out there.” With that, Chess retreated to the living room.

  She studied her reflection and took in her unruly hair and pale skin. He thought she was beautiful? His words warmed her and suddenly the wound didn’t seem nearly as bad.

  Chapter Ten

  Chess waited for Brooke to return to the living room, taking advantage of the time to school his features and bring his emotions in check. The last thing he wanted was for her to think the scar would in any way make her less pretty. She’d always been one of the most beautiful women he’d ever met, and it certainly didn’t change how he felt. However, it wasn’t good he was letting his mind go down this path at all. He tried to convince himself that he might have given Anna the same compliment, but he knew that was a lie.

  Brooke walked back into the room and took her seat on the couch. Chess leaned in to clean the wound like the doctor had instructed. When that was done, he got the antibiotic ointment out. He dabbed some gently along the length of the cut, being careful not to irritate the stitches. Brooke exhaled slowly, the air brushing against his chin and neck. He fought to keep his attention on what he was doing when her eyes threatened to pull him in. Her lashes fell, shielding her brown orbs.

  He placed a new bandage and fought against the urge to cover it with a kiss. “There we go.” He stood abruptly. “Does it hurt?”

  “Mostly when I raise my eyebrows.” She demonstrated and winced. “Compared to the ribs, it’s a minor annoyance.”

  “Do you still have your ribs wrapped?”

  Brooke nodded. “Anna helped me with that earlier today. It’s weird how putting tape over them can help, but it does.” Her cheeks colored a little. “I’m not going to show you, but the bruise is bigger than my hand and a dark purple.”

  It was Chess’s turn to wince. He could imagine. He cleaned up the supplies and then washed his hands in the kitchen sink. “Do you have anything easy I can get you for dinner?”

  There were shadows under Brooke’s eyes, and she covered a yawn. “Anna made a batch of egg salad and put it in the fridge. There’s enough for both of us if you want a sandwich.”

  Things were still awkward between them, but he had to grasp any opportunity to try to fix their friendship. Besides, after her accident, he wasn’t in a hurry to leave her alone.

  He insisted she rest on the couch while he made the sandwiches, located chips in the cabinet, and a bottle of lemonade from the fridge. Before long, they were sitting side by side, their food on the coffee table in front of them. He bit into one of his sandwiches and nodded. “Excellent choice.”

  “They do hit the spot.”

  They ate in silence for a few minutes before Chess thought of something to ask her. “Did you get to talk to your boss at the salon?”

  “Yes. I said I needed the next two weeks off for sure, and then I could re-evaluate.” She frowned. “I can barely manage to get up and down right now, I can’t fathom being on my feet for hours.”

  “You don’t sound like you’re in a hurry to go back.”

  Brooke shrugged. “I had two weeks of vacation I could take. Let’s just say I’m looking forward to the break, though I’m not a fan of how it came about.”

  “Have you thought anymore about a career change?” He had a feeling she mostly didn’t want to say anything. “Come on. There’s got to be something. Extreme couponing? Biochemistry?”

  The suggestions brought a smile to her face. “I considered one of those year-long archaeological expeditions to a far-off country might be good.” She sobered. “Seriously, I have no idea and I find that completely sad.”

  Chess paused a moment. “Did you have any hobbies when you were young that helped keep your mind off everything in foster care?” He watched as she stared up toward the ceiling in thought, pulling that lower lip of hers between her teeth. She looked cute when she did it, but it was worrying it happened more frequently nowadays. He probably shouldered a lot of the reason for that.

  She must have come up with something because she gave a little shrug and focused on her sandwich, her cheeks painted pink.

  “Come on, tell me about it.”

  She took a long drink of lemonade. “Fine. It’s silly, though. I have a limited number of clear memories of my mom.” A wistful expression pas
sed over her face. “But she’s drawing in almost all of them. I loved watching her bring something to life on a blank page and wanted to be just like her when I grew up.”

  Chess knew her mom had died of a stroke when Brooke was only five. An elderly relative had taken her in for two years or so until her health prevented her from continuing to care for her great niece. That’s when she entered the foster care system. His heart ached for all Brooke had gone through. He waited for her to continue.

  “My mama’s aunt knew how much those memories meant to me. She gave me one of my mom’s sketchbooks to keep and then bought me one of my own. Back then, I hoped I’d learn to draw as well as she did.” Her voice broke.

  He had no idea. “Did you ever draw?”

  “Some. At least until I ended up in foster care. I didn’t much feel like it after that, you know?”

  “Yeah. I get it.” It was easy to lose a little of yourself every time you moved from one foster home to another. And Brooke had mentioned she bounced around frequently until she was fifteen. That was enough to change any child. It’d certainly changed him. “What did your mom use?”

  “Pastels, mostly.” Brooke smiled a little. “I can still remember what they smelled like.” She picked at the bread on the last few bites of her sandwich with a slender thumb and finger.

  “You should take an art class at the community college. Start drawing again.” But as soon as Chess said those words, she shook her head, the corners of her mouth dipping down. “What? Why not?”

  “Because that’s not going to pay the bills.” Brooke held her arms out. “I’ve got to pay for this apartment. Hopefully the insurance will come through so I won’t have a slew of medical bills.” Her voice cracked. She cleared her throat and took another drink. “I’m probably stuck at the salon for now.”

  Chess hated the dejected look on her face. He was lucky enough to have a job he enjoyed for the most part. Even then, he could imagine what it would be like to feel trapped in a position that seemed unending. He wanted to do something to erase the sadness from her face. His gaze settled on her lips and the unexpected need to kiss her flooded his system with such force, it left him stunned. Without realizing it, he’d turned toward her and their faces were mere inches away. Her rose-scented shampoo floated around him as his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest.

  There was a red spot on her lower lip from when she was worrying it earlier. As much as he wanted to kiss her — needed to kiss her — it would only give her hope. His actions had already resulted in her car accident and injuries. He couldn’t risk it. Couldn’t risk her.

  He stood abruptly, covering his action by gathering their plates. “You should search through some options. You have two weeks to figure something out if you do want to leave the salon.”

  Brooke’s gaze fell to the floor, her voice quiet as she spoke. “Maybe. But sometimes, no matter how hard we want them to, things never change.”

  Guilt pummeled him as he took their plates into the kitchen and washed the dishes. By the time he returned to the living room, it was a few minutes after six. He found Brooke in the recliner, her legs curled up beside her and her head resting against the back. Her chest rose and fell with each breath of a deep sleep. His heart swelled and turned over.

  Chess found a blanket and spread it out over her before taking a moment to study her face. With one finger, he softly brushed some hair off her cheek, allowing himself the luxury of letting his hand linger near her ear before withdrawing it.

  He would have to be more careful around Brooke. The last thing he needed to do was mess up and kiss her. Or say something he couldn’t take back. He’d drawn a line in the sand before and anything else would only muddy it and make things worse.

  Anna said Brooke needed to take more medicine at eight. There was no way he was leaving before then. He observed Brooke as she slept, the all too familiar waves of guilt flowing through him. No matter what, he wouldn’t let her or Nathan down again if he had any control over it.

  ~

  When Brooke awoke the next morning, it took her a moment to remember she’d been sleeping in the living room. She vaguely recalled waking up at some point in the evening to find Chess watching over her. He got her some more medication, helped her shift positions in the recliner, and she’d promptly fallen back to sleep.

  The chair was empty now, but a note in his handwriting rested on the coffee table. She reached over to retrieve it.

  Brooke,

  If you get sick again at any point in the middle of the night, call me. I’m serious. Sleep peacefully and don’t forget to take your medicine. Text me when you get up in the morning, okay?

  Chess

  Her phone was plugged into the wall on a shelf across the room. She stood slowly, relieved to find the headache had eased tremendously compared to the day before. Her ribs, however, hurt even worse than they had last night. She supposed that was probably normal, but the pain made it difficult to take full breaths like she knew she needed to.

  She distracted herself by typing a text to Chess and sending it. “Just woke up. I didn’t get sick, and I feel better this morning.” Her ribs might hurt more, but her head was a lot clearer.

  A reply came a minute or two later. “I’m glad to hear that. Anna’s going to come check on you at lunch and I’ll be by to help with the bandage this evening. If you need anything in between, let us know. Take it easy today.”

  “I will. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  Brooke found a box of chocolate donuts on the counter in the kitchen and chose one for breakfast. As she ate, she thought about her conversation with Chess last night. She hadn’t considered drawing again. She had to admit the idea of taking an art class had potential. But simply because her mom had skill didn’t mean she did.

  She had some faded memories of her great aunt telling her she drew much like her mom. How long had it been since she’d gone through the art books from her youth?

  Brooke finished breakfast, took some more medication, and then made her way to her bedroom. Her ribs protested as she carefully pulled open one of the drawers in her dresser. Brooke knew what was inside and dreaded the flood of emotions going through the contents was sure to unleash. Even when she’d packed things up and moved into this apartment, she’d avoided looking at them too closely. This time, she prepared herself and pulled the contents out.

  Inside was everything she had when she went into foster care. The art portfolio her mom loved to draw in was on top. Brooke thumbed through the pages. It’d been years since she studied the colorful images of ponds and koi, a field of Bluebonnets, and even a few portraits. Brooke’s favorite was the sketch her mom did of her when she was three or four. She could still remember her mom asking her if she’d sit real still and keep stirring the cake batter for a while.

  Brooke didn’t mind. It meant she got to sit up on the counter, while wearing Mama’s apron, and sneak little licks of chocolate batter when she thought Mama wouldn’t notice.

  Looking at the picture now, Brooke realized how much talent her mom had.

  She closed the book and let a hand rest on the cover. There was no way she had any hope of being as good. Aside from doodling, she hadn’t even drawn since she entered foster care. The realization it was almost two decades had Brooke shaking her head. So much time…

  The next thing in the drawer was one of Brooke’s own art books. This was the book Auntie had given her. Brooke didn’t know how to use the pastels back then, but it didn’t matter because she was drawing like her mama had.

  Brooke remembered thinking they were amazing images. But she was certain, when she opened the book, she’d find scrawls of a child who had no idea what she was doing.

  She lifted the cover and gasped. No, they weren’t anywhere near as good as Mama’s. But wow, they were far better than anything Brooke had expected. Had she truly drawn these? She came to the image of a little stuffed bear. Brooke rummaged in the drawer and lifted the same stuf
fed animal. The drawing was anything but perfect, but it wasn’t half bad.

  Auntie said she had talent like her mom, but Brooke hadn’t been ready to hear that. Maybe it didn’t mean that much then. But now…

  She swiped at the tears in her eyes and released a shaky breath. She reached for the last thing in the bottom of the box. Paper towels wrapped around a set of handkerchiefs. She remembered sitting at Auntie’s feet, watching her expertly use a shuttle and colorful thread to create beautiful tatted lace that bordered the squares of cloth. Brooke lifted them to her nose, amazed they still held the faint scent of lavender she’d always associated with the elderly family member who’d cared for her as long as she could.

  She’d never forget the tears in Auntie’s eyes when she gave Brooke a hug from the hospital bed. “Keep your head up, Brookie. Your mama would want that. Don’t forget her. Or me. Okay?”

  Brooke blinked back tears. “How could I, Auntie? I love you.”

  “I love you, too, my sweetheart.”

  A few days later, Brooke remembered when someone informed her at her foster home that her great aunt had passed away. The last connection she had to her mom was gone. It was also the day that Brooke packed everything away.

  “I never forgot about either of you,” she said through the tears. She squeezed her eyes shut tight. “God, give them a hug for me. Let them know I still love them.”

  She let herself cry for a bit and mourn what she’d lost. Something she hadn’t done in a long while.

  Entering foster care had been the beginning of the loneliest time in her life. Until God introduced her to Joel. And then Chess. Now Anna. A family He knew she needed more than anything else.

  Her thoughts turned to Chess. He’d been so sweet and helpful last night. For the hundredth time, she wished she’d kept how she felt about him to herself. If she had, things between them wouldn’t be as strange and awkward like they were now. Her heart stuttered in her chest at the memory of how close they were when he was treating her wound, and she sighed with frustration. Would she ever be able to think about him without reacting like this?