Brooklyn

My alarm jolts me awake at four. Most would curse and stumble groggily from their bed. Not me. Despite the way I left things with Wes last night, I excitedly fling my covers off, darting into the bathroom. I throw water on my face, brush my teeth, smooth my hair back, and check my reflection.

Pulling out the top drawer of the vanity, I grab my compact, applying a bit of powder and blush before adding eyeliner. Content with my appearance, I head down the stairs of my townhouse, grin as I pass a photo of Drew and the girls on my entryway table, then grab my keys and continue to my car. My smile builds as I make the journey to Drew’s house. The closer I get, the faster my heart races.

After a drive that seems to last much longer than thirty minutes, I pull up in front of his house, unable to stop the butterflies from flapping their feverish wings in my stomach when I see him sitting on his porch. His hair is messy from sleep and he hasn’t shaven in a few days. He’s wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of gym shorts with the Bruins logo on one leg. His tattoos peek out from the sleeves of his shirt and I bite my lower lip, my mind going to places it shouldn’t. I love this look on him. He looks comfortable, and it warms my heart to know he can be himself around me. Just like I can be myself around him. I don’t think I’ve ever felt like I can be the real me around Wes. That must count for something.

When I shut off the engine and step out of the car, Drew’s eyes light up, zeroing in on me. With each step I take, my heart pounds a little harder, my lungs expand a little quicker, my skin tingles a little more. This man has always had this effect on me, even when he was just a boy, but it’s different now, more intense, more pronounced, more... Just more.

After the morning I watched him walk out of my father’s kitchen without a single look back, I promised I would stop torturing myself, that I would finally let go of my adolescent obsession with Andrew Brinks. Since then, I did everything in my power to convince myself I’d done just that. I dated. I watched his wife’s belly get bigger and bigger. I dated more. I offered him my congratulations when he flew into the café with a bag full of pink onesies after learning it was another girl. I dated even more.

Then Drew’s life began falling apart. Molly and I were in the stands when he was knocked unconscious and wheeled off the ice on a stretcher. I held his hand as he lay in ICU, begging him to wake up. My jaw dropped when Carla walked in carrying a baby, considering Charlotte wasn’t supposed to be born for another month. We were so focused on Drew’s recovery and rehabilitation, nobody ever questioned it.

Still, throughout his entire downward spiral, I remained strong, refusing to get tangled in his web again. Every time I felt myself growing weak, I rewound the clocks to the day he left for college, the day I was supposed to lose my virginity to him. To when we saw each other that following Thanksgiving and he acted as if I weren’t even there. To all the times he paraded girl after girl in front of me, blind to the tears forming in my eyes. To the morning after he finally told me he loved me, having no memory of doing so. I’ve held onto the pain he’s caused throughout my adolescent and adult life, using it as a reminder to keep my distance, to focus my efforts on finding someone who would do the one thing he never did...make me a priority.

Now, as I look into his eyes and see a yearning unmatched by any man who’s claimed his love for me, I realize I bear a lot of the blame here, too. Like during my undergrad days when I purposely took a guy to a Bruins home game, then proceeded to make out with him so Drew would see. Like when one of his teammates showed an interest in me and I feigned interest right back, just to piss off Drew. Like when a charming man with a sweet southern accent asked me to dinner and I said yes, just to help me forget about Drew. To forget about the way something as simple as his easy smile lights up my world. To forget about how much I’ve imagined hearing his husky voice murmur those three beautiful words. To forget about how much I’ve yearned to say those three words back to him, even to this very day.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low.

“Hey.” My heart is heavy, but full. I can’t help but feel this is the turning point we’ve both been searching for over the past few months…hell, years. I’ve been so caught up with wearing my pain like a badge of honor, I never stopped to consider I may have hurt him just as much.

My lips part as we remain frozen in place, unable to look away. I want to tell him everything, yet nothing. I want to spill my heart out, yet also lock up all my secrets and guard them with my life. I want to lose myself in him, yet keep him at arm’s length. I know I’m walking a dangerous tightrope. One misstep and I fear, this time, I’ll fall too far to ever come back.

Tears well in my eyes, wondering where we’d be if we hadn’t played these games for so long, wondering if we would have found happiness with each other years ago.

“Brooklyn?” His concerned vision rakes over me, searching for any hint of what’s causing me distress. Just like he did all those years ago when he pushed me on the swing and I tumbled down the hill. Just like he did a few weeks ago when I fell on the ice. His words from that day come rushing back.

“I won’t let you fall. And if you do, I’ll help you put the pieces together again. Like I always have.”

“Like you always have,” I murmur to myself.

“Brook?” he says, urging me to talk to him.

I’m overwhelmed with a thousand emotions I can’t name, both satisfying and terrifying. “I’m sorry,” I choke out.

In an instant, I’m in his arms, resting my head against his broad chest. It’s warm and inviting. In a word, it’s home. I inhale a long breath, relishing in everything this man is, everything he’s always been, everything he always will be. As much as I want both of us to forget all the past hurt we’ve caused each other, it’s not that easy. There’s a lot we have to forgive first.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Being so blind.” I pull away and meet his heartfelt gaze. He’s not hiding anything from me, not pretending to be unaffected by this connection, this power that keeps forcing us together.

“I’m the one who was blind, stupid, and probably scared. I have to live with that for the rest of my life.” He cups my cheeks in his hands, his mouth just a whisper from mine. The way he holds me, the way he speaks, the way his eyes bore into my soul make me never want to leave this place, this time, this moment.

“No matter what you want to think, no matter what path you choose, you deserve to know that I’ve always loved you, Brooklyn. Always. I was just trying to do the right thing. That night at Brody Carmichael’s party...” He loosens his grip on me, a finger traveling down my jawline, ghosting over my bottom lip. It causes a shiver to roll through me, my nerve endings firing. “I was young, but I’d never felt anything remotely close to what I did when I kissed you. When you kissed me back...” His body grows taut, his mouth inching closer to mine. “I never wanted to stop feeling your lips on mine.”

“Then why didn’t you come see me the next day? Why did you leave without saying goodbye? Without...” I trail off.

“Do you think I wanted to leave you?” His voice thunders around me, the vibration making my heart speed up. “God, Brooklyn. I hated having to do that. For months, you were all I thought about, all I dreamt about.”

“So why did you act like I didn’t exist?”

He pulls his lip between his teeth as he stares down at me, assessing his next move. “I know I’ve never given you a reason to believe me. And as much as I want to tell you why I never appeared at your door at 7:01 on August 26^th, 2001, I’m not sure I’m ready to do that yet, not when I know the truth will hurt you far more than my failure to show up did.”

His words remind me of what Molly said last night, how Drew was forced to make a choice. Was this what she was talking about? That night before he left for college? How would she know about that?

“But—”

“Please, Brooklyn.” He releases his hold on me, increasing the distance between us. Lowering his head, he runs a hand through his hair. “I’ve spent years trying to convince myself that one night didn’t matter, that it didn’t affect me like it did. I did everything to forget about it, hoping it would dampen the pain. That’s why I couldn’t look at you, couldn’t bring myself to talk to you. It hurt so fucking much. I brought home girls who couldn’t hold a candle to you, hoping I’d feel something for them. I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t want to admit the truth.”

“And what truth was that?”

He lifts his gaze back to me, the tension mounting. My heart hammers in my chest, the intensity in his gaze consuming me, making me want to bare my soul to him. “Without you, I was dead inside.”

I crane my head back, his words resonating with me, pushing me forward when the old me would have run away. “When I saw you across the way at a bar, I made out with a guy just to see if you’d notice me.”

He brings his hands back to my face, swiping away my tears, a slight smile building on his lips. “I avoided going home to visit because it hurt too much to see you with another guy.”

“I once dated a Canadiens fan in the hopes it would help free me from the hold you still had on my heart.”

He lowers his voice as he inches toward me, barely a breath between our two bodies. “I asked Carla to marry me because I thought it was the only way I’d ever forget about you.”

I nod, swallowing hard at what I’m about to admit to him. But we’re putting it all out there. No more lies. No more secrets. No more pain. Everyone deserves a second chance. Maybe this is ours. We’ll never know unless we wipe the slate clean.

“I agreed to marry Wes so I could forget about you.”

Resting his forehead on mine, all the tension that’s been plaguing him since I announced my engagement seems to roll off him in waves. He places his palm on my lower back and pulls me against him.

“Have you forgotten about me?”

“Never.”

“And Wes?” His question is filled with hope.

“He’s in Dubai for two weeks. I told him I needed time to figure some things out. In his eyes, we’re still together, albeit on shaky ground.” I don’t want to do anything to hurt him while he’s away. But I think even he knows this is coming.

His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as his mouth hovers over mine. “And in your eyes?” He arches a brow.

“There’s never been a choice when it came to you.”

He briefly closes his eyes, allowing my words to soothe his soul. When he returns them to me, they’re bright, lustrous, radiant. “Come on.” He gestures toward the house. “Time for some coffee.”

I blow out a relieved laugh, grateful we’ve turned this corner, that he didn’t turn me away as I so often have these past few months. The weight that’s been crushing my chest for years, inhibiting my ability to breathe, has been lifted, allowing my heart to beat the way it’s always wanted to. For Drew.

“God, I love it when you talk dirty.”