Brooklyn

A wide grin plastered on my face, I push the folders scattered all over my desk into a pile, then shove them into the cabinets, not caring about the lack of organization. Normally, I’d take my time to put each and every file exactly where they’re supposed to go, but not tonight, not with the electricity filling me in anticipation of seeing Drew.

Grabbing my bag, I head down the corridor with a spring in my step, about to make my escape when someone calls my name. “Brooklyn! Hold on a second.”

I whirl around to see Michelle scurrying after me. “What’s going on?” I furrow my brows in concern.

“I won’t keep you, since it looks like you’re on your way somewhere important.” She waggles her eyebrows. “Like a booty call with Wes.”

Heat washes over my face as I swallow down my unease at the mention of him. “Is something wrong?”

Her expression falls. “I just got off the phone with the Attorney General’s office.” She straightens her posture, brushing her dark locks behind her ear, her eyes serious. “Apparently, Zachary Plummer’s brother, Marcus, tried to get through security to speak with AAG Stone about the disposition of the TPR from a week ago, wanting to know where Zachary’s kids ended up.”

“Is she okay?”

“Yes. He wasn’t able to get through and walked away when they suggested he speak to Zachary’s attorney.”

I bite my lower lip, something about this not adding up. “You’d think with the amount of neglect those kids endured, Zachary would have been thrilled when the judge signed the TPR. Not to mention, he’s currently serving a twenty-year sentence.”

“Those brothers only saw dollar signs whenever they looked at those kids. Sick bastards. The DA is still working on building a criminal case against Marcus for trafficking, but Zachary refused to implicate him, so right now, it’s only circumstantial. Nothing sufficient for even an arrest warrant.”

I nod, my stomach churning at what those kids’ lives would be like had DCF not intervened. It doesn’t matter how long I’ve been doing this. Seeing kids abused and neglected never gets any easier.

“Anyway, I guess I just wanted to warn you to keep your eyes peeled. If he’s going after Stone, he may try to track you down, too.”

“Thanks, Michelle. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about and will all blow over. Like it always does.” Any other day, I may have taken her warning a little more seriously, but nothing can dampen my current mood, not when I’m minutes away from seeing Drew in a spot that means so much to both of us.

She pulls her lips together into a tight line. “Probably, but still. Be careful.”

“I will.” I give her a reassuring smile, then glance at the glass doors leading to the parking lot.

“Well, I won’t keep you from your prior engagement any longer.” She gives me an exaggerated wink. “And I expect a full report on all the steaminess tomorrow.”

I laugh, unable to reel in my smile. “You should know by now, Michelle.”

“What’s that?”

“I never kiss and tell.” Especially considering my date is with a man other than my fiancé.

With a grin, I spin from her, rushing out of the building and through the parking lot, tuning out everything except the exhilaration of being in Drew’s arms, knowing I’m mere minutes from experiencing that again.

Once I’m behind the wheel of my car, I crank the engine and head toward Revere Beach. While it’s not the best in the state, it’s the one closest to where we grew up. It has all the essentials…sand, ocean, a snack bar. Better yet, it’s home to thousands of memories of my younger years. Of squealing with joy when I felt that first wave splash over my legs as a child. Of lounging in the sun with my best friend as we talked about everything and nothing at the same time. Of being tossed into the ocean by Drew time and time again. These memories make this place special, and I get the feeling they must hold the same importance for Drew.

I pull into the beach lot, step out of my car, then kick off my heels. It’s not dark yet, but the sun no longer illuminates the sky, the faint hint of the half-moon appearing. Now that I’m close to the shore, there’s more of a breeze than was noticeable inland. Still, I make no move to secure my hair, allowing it to blow around my face instead.

The sand is warm against my feet as I walk toward what became our spot during our last summer together. With every step, I dig my toes in a little more, something about the feel of the grains against my skin pacifying me.

Approaching the ledge separating the beach from the street, I hoist myself onto it, just as I did so many times during my youth. Just as I did the day before Drew went off to college. I remember sitting with him in this exact spot, neither one of us saying a word. In that moment, I could tell it was as difficult for him to leave me as it was for me to say goodbye to him. In retrospect, maybe it was a blessing in disguise he left without saying goodbye. Maybe he did it because he was struggling with leaving me as much as I was.

As I sit watching planes prepare to land at Logan Airport off in the distance, I’m on edge. My unease only increases with the passing of time. I glance at my watch. 7:15. I tell myself Drew’s probably running a little late, that he’s stuck in one of his meetings or got caught in game-day traffic trying to get out of the city, which I know from experience can be horrendous.

For the next thirty minutes, I come up with excuse after excuse to explain why he’s not here, why he hasn’t returned any of my texts or calls. A tiny voice reminds me I did the same thing the morning he left for college, but I silence it. I’m no longer that same girl. And he’s not the same guy, either. He wouldn’t ask me to meet him here and not show up. Would he?

Withdrawing my phone from my purse, I’m about to call Molly to see if she’s heard from him when a chill runs through me. I glance at the parking lot behind me, finding it empty of people, a dozen cars scattered among the numerous spaces. Michelle’s warning nags at me. I’m probably just being paranoid. Regardless, it’s not the smartest idea to be sitting alone on the beach now that darkness shrouds the shoreline. It’s not exactly the safest part of the city.

Jumping off the ledge, I hurry across the sand toward the parking lot, brushing the granules off my feet before sliding my heels back on. A loud cheer startles me and I look toward the noise, spying a sports bar a few blocks away. The place is brightly lit, several people congregated outside, smoking. Thinking it’s probably safer to wait in there than in my darkened car in a parking lot, I continue in its direction.

When I step into the crowded bar, I feel out of place. Locals sporting Celtics jerseys fill the room, their eyes glued to one of the many large-screen televisions hanging overhead or mounted to the walls, each one tuned into the basketball game. Scanning the area, I find a vacant stool toward the end of the bar and head toward it.

Once I’m settled, a bartender approaches, placing a cardboard coaster in front of me. “What can I get you?”

“Scotch. Neat.”

“You got it.”

He turns, grabbing a bottle and pouring the amber liquor into a tumbler. He pushes the glass toward me and smiles. “Cheers.”

I place enough cash on the bar to cover the drink and a decent tip, then take a sip, my throat and stomach burning as the alcohol makes its way through me.

“Celtics fan?” a deep voice asks as I place the glass back on the bar.

“No. Just waiting for a friend who’s running late,” I say, stealing a glance at the man by my side. I hadn’t noticed him when I walked in, only caring about finding an empty seat. He looks as out of place as me, his tie loose, copper hair disheveled. He’s probably in his early forties, his features distinguished enough to make it appear like he has life experience, but not so withered as to make it seem like he’s close to retirement age. “Figured it was safer waiting in here than out on the beach.”

My phone buzzes. I quickly retrieve it from my purse, my fingers frantic as I hope for a message from Drew. When it’s just a work email coming through, my heart deflates, but I try not to let it show, plastering on a smile.

“How about you? Are you a Celtics fan…?” I lift my brows.

“Tony,” he answers, holding out his hand.

I grab it. “Brooklyn.”

He nods, then releases his hold on me, returning his attention to the game. “I suppose you could say I’m a fan.” He blows out a laugh, his mouth twisting in the corners. “I kind of married into it. My wife’s a big fan.”

I shift my eyes to the TV screen, feigning interest. I’ve never followed basketball, considering its season is the same as hockey.

“She just asked for a divorce,” he says after a minute.

I shift my gaze back to him. His lips are pinched together, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down in hard swallows.

“I should have known it was coming, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. She’s always complained I work too hard.”

“What is it you do?”

“I’m a detective with Revere PD,” he answers in a thick Boston accent, then brings his bottle up to his mouth. “I’ve worked hard to give her everything she’s ever wanted. But I was too blind to realize all she wanted was me. Now I have to figure out a way to tell my kids why I’m moving out.”

“How old are they?” I ask in a small voice.

“Jessica is thirteen. Embry is eight.”

I offer him as compassionate a smile as possible, hoping he finds even a small slice of comfort in the gesture. “They’ll be okay. Kids are alarmingly resilient.” I look forward once more, swirling my glass on the surface of the bar.

As I check the score, I almost do a double take when they show a wide shot, one of the ridiculously tall basketball players dribbling toward the basket. But that’s not what catches my attention. It’s who’s sitting one row behind the team…Drew and his agent.

I squint, wondering if my eyes are playing tricks on me. Sure enough, the whistle blows and the camera zooms in on Drew, a banner below him on the screen displaying his name, followed by “Former Bruins Center”.

“How do you know?” Tony’s voice cuts through my stunned silence.

I whip my eyes toward his, my face heating as I try to pretend the idea of Drew standing me up for a basketball game doesn’t affect me.

“What?”

“Kids. How do you know they’ll be okay?”

I blink repeatedly, my gaze fluctuating between the TV and Tony’s, confused, a thousand explanations filling my brain as to why Drew would be at a Celtics game, considering he specifically asked me to meet him tonight. It doesn’t make sense. When I look back at the screen, I notice Drew’s not paying attention to the game, making me think perhaps his agent dragged him there for some reason. The camera goes to a wide shot again and my heart sinks when I realize what that reason is…

Skylar.

I try to tell myself it’s just a coincidence. I want to believe he hasn’t been carrying on with her even after all the promises he made these past few days, even after I planned to leave a man who’s been nothing but devoted to me to pursue something with Drew. But as I witness Skylar saunter up to him in her ridiculously revealing uniform and pull him toward what I can only assume to be a private location, the way he licks his lips as he visibly undresses her with his eyes, makes me realize I’ve been so wrong about him.

My grip on the glass tightens, my jaw clenching as I do everything to remain in control. But the more I think about how naïve I’ve been, the harder it becomes. I wonder what sick game he’s playing, what he gets out of toying with people’s emotions.

“Brooklyn?” Tony says, noticing my changed demeanor. “Are you okay?”

I look at him once more, my voice caught in my throat. Everything feels foggy, the background noise muffled.

“I…” I shake my head, words refusing to form, my chin quivering.

It shouldn’t surprise me. After all, Drew’s made a habit out of promising me one thing, then failing to follow through. I wanted to think he was serious about me, wanted to believe he was a different person than the cocky hockey player who was going off to college, or the hotshot celebrity whose face was plastered on billboards, t-shirts, coffee mugs. That’s what hurts the most right now. Not that Drew stood me up yet again, but that I was so desperate for him to finally want me that I believed the lies he fed me, even though I should have learned my lesson the last time. And the time before that. And the time before that.

“Brooklyn?” Tony repeats.

“I have to go.” A blank expression on my face, I raise myself from my seat and walk through the bar, ignoring Tony’s requests asking me if I’m okay. I should be crying at how stupid I’ve been, but I’m not. I’ve given Drew too many of my tears. He doesn’t deserve them. He never did in the first place.

I’ve always liked to believe everything happens for a reason. There’s a reason Drew never showed up at my house when he promised he would all those years ago. There has to be a reason I decided to step into that bar to wait for him in the hopes he’d show up with a valid explanation as to why he was late. Perhaps this is the universe’s way of showing me Drew hasn’t changed like I thought he had, like he tried to insist he had.

As I cross the street, I remain alarmingly composed, at least on the outside. On the inside, I’ve broken down, the walls I’d erected around my heart seventeen years ago returning, this time thicker, stronger, impenetrable. Everything seems subdued and distant as I make my way through the parking lot and approach my car.

When I open the door, an unexpected echo of heavy footsteps against gravel breaks through the fog of my heartbreak, catching my attention. I look around, searching the lot for the source, my heart pounding in my chest, adrenaline filling me.

The last thing I remember is peering into a pair of familiar eyes before two large hands wrap around my throat, my head meeting the car door, rendering me unconscious.