Drew

I tap on the steering wheel, cursing all the stoplights as I make my way toward the beach. I have no idea whether Brooklyn is still there, considering she didn’t pick up the myriad of times I tried to call. Didn’t respond to any of my texts. Not a single word from her. I pray she’ll understand. The instant I put the pieces together and realized Skylar played a part in this, all I saw was red. All my outside responsibilities and commitments took a back seat to uncovering the truth.

As I sit in traffic, I continue trying Brooklyn’s cell every few minutes, only for it to go to voicemail. I don’t want to read too much into it, but I can’t help feeling like something’s off. If Brooklyn were just pissed at me, she’d pick up and tell me. But not answering at all? It doesn’t sit right.

Finally, I turn my SUV onto the street abutting the shoreline, driving faster than normal. Approaching the parking lot, red and blue lights flash. I slow my speed, counting four police cruisers. Dread fills me, beads of sweat forming on my neck.

I slam on my brakes, leaving my SUV on the side of the road, and dash toward the pandemonium. I pray I’m just overreacting, that it’s just my guilt seeping into my subconscious. As I near the flashing lights and see yellow tape roping off Brooklyn’s car, my pulse skyrockets. The sound of my heart thrashing in my ears mutes the background noise of crashing waves and passing cars.

On autopilot, I duck under the perimeter, my throat tight, barely able to keep myself upright as I stride toward her car. It doesn’t take more than a few seconds for an officer to approach me, putting his hand up, preventing me from taking another step.

“Sir, I’m going to need to ask you to leave this area. I can’t have anyone contaminating evidence or compromising the integrity of the crime scene.”

“Crime scene?” I attempt to look past him at Brooklyn’s car, desperate for any indication she’s okay. “What happened?” I roar, panicked. “Where is she?”

“She?” He glances behind him. I follow his line of sight just as a crime scene tech shines a flashlight on the door, bringing attention to blood smearing the edge.

“Brooklyn!” I shout, my voice bellowing in the night air. “That’s her car!” My eyes bulge and nostrils flare as I tug on my hair.

“Sir, please. If you’ll wait behind the tape, I’ll send a detective over to talk to you.” He grips my elbow, dragging me away, but not before I notice more blood on the pavement. I’m too lightheaded to put up a fight, too weak to shake off his tight hold and rush to the beach to see her sitting in our spot, all of this a misunderstanding.

When we get on the other side of the cordoned off area, other locals and passersby congregating in intrigue, he releases his grip on me. “Wait here, Mr…” He lifts a questioning brow.

“Brinks.”

He eyes me with mild recognition before retreating toward a group of men in suits. They talk for a moment, increasing my anxiety level, then one looks at me and heads in my direction. He’s tall and lean. The bit of gray dotting his copper hair and lines around his face make him appear to be in his forties.

“Detective Tony Santa Rosa.” He holds his hand out toward me, a weariness about him. Unlike the other men, his tie is loosened, his hair disheveled.

“Andrew Brinks,” I respond.

“I know.” He gestures at Brooklyn’s car. “Are you acquainted with the woman who owns that automobile?”

“Her name’s Brooklyn. Brooklyn Tanner.”

He closes his eyes and inhales a long breath. It doesn’t matter this man is a complete stranger. I can tell he’s out of sorts.

“What happened?” I ask frantically, desperation taking over. My gaze darts from Brooklyn’s car, to the crime scene techs taking photos, to the group of other police officers and detectives. My mouth is dry, my neck stiff, my jaw tight.

“I saw it all myself,” he answers, staring off into space. “She came into Jonny’s Pub and ordered a scotch. I struck up a conversation with her. She seemed to be in a good mood, then started watching the Celtics game.” He gives me a knowing look. “It was around the same time the cameras spied you in the crowd.”

I swallow hard, heaviness settling in my stomach.

“She suddenly became distracted, quiet, then left the bar, ignoring my questions asking if she was okay. That’s when I noticed this big guy follow her. It could have been nothing, but after fifteen years on the job, I couldn’t shake the feeling in my gut that this was not a good person, so I paid my tab and left to make sure she was okay.” He runs a hand over his face, pulling his lip between his teeth. “I should have left the bar sooner.”

“What happened?” I press through a tightness in my throat, unsure I want to hear his response.

“The man attacked her. Smashed her head into her car door, knocked her out, then dragged her toward his car.” He looked behind him, gesturing to a run-down station wagon parked several yards away from Brooklyn’s car. “As he was about to throw her into the trunk, I told him to stop, showed him my shield. That’s when he drew a gun. I did the same and clipped him in the shoulder.”

I swallow hard, absorbing his story as my eyes rake over the scene, a trail of blood from Brooklyn’s car to the station wagon making me even more queasy now that I know how it got there. “It’s all my fault,” I murmur, my stomach hardening.

“Excuse me?” Detective Santa Rosa asks, intrigued.

“I was supposed to meet her here at seven, but something came up.”

“The Celtics game?” I hear the disapproval in his voice. I know what he’s thinking. That if I hadn’t gone to that game, this never would have happened.

I shake my head. “No. Well, yes. But…” I pace, tugging on my hair. I’ve never felt so much guilt in my life. If I’d just stopped for a moment to think instead of being hell-bent on revenge, I would have remembered the plans I made with Brooklyn. How many more promises will I make to her just for something to prevent me from following through? It already required her to make a giant leap of faith to trust me again. How will she ever trust me after this?

I whip my wild eyes to the detective. “Where is she? Is she okay?”

“I haven’t received an updated status yet, but she hadn’t regained consciousness by the time the EMTs arrived. They took her to Everett.”

Reacting quickly, I turn from him, dashing back to where I left my SUV, speeding away from the beach, mumbling a silent prayer for Brooklyn.

The automatic doors slide open and I barrel into a packed waiting room, the sound of coughing and wheezing overpowering that of the distorted speakers of a television there to keep people occupied so they don’t think about how long they’ve been waiting.

“Brooklyn Tanner. Where is she?” I bark at the nurse manning the registration desk of the emergency room.

“Are you family?”

“Yes, well…not technically, but we grew up together.”

She hands me a clipboard and pen. “Sign in. I’ll check to verify whether she’s able to consent to see you.”

“And if she’s not?” I scribble my name down, then push the clipboard toward her.

“You’ll have to wait until she is.”

I glare, her answer only angering me more. I know it’s not her fault. She’s just following procedure, but I need to see Brooklyn. Need to make sure she’s okay. Need to feel her soft skin on mine. Need to see her chest rise and fall. Need to promise never to let her down again. That’s all I care about right now. Nothing else.

“Have a seat.”

“How long?” I press.

“Once I check in all these people in need of medical care…” She gestures to the line behind me. “I’ll work as fast as I can, but I promise to make you a priority.”

I fight the urge to return her sarcasm with a biting comment and spin from her, plopping down into a hard chair with a force that evidences my impatience regarding the situation.

My leg bounces as I chew on my nails. Every few minutes, a nurse opens the security door, calling a name other than mine. I watch as someone with an arm in a sling, or pressing an ice pack to their face, or puking into a pail is escorted into the triage area. I try to peek down the corridor, hoping to catch a glimpse of Brooklyn, but I’m not so lucky.

My hands burrow into my hair, my nostrils flaring. I hate being in this purgatory where I don’t know if she’s okay. What if she is but requested not to see me? I can’t stomach the idea.

When the door opens again, I straighten, the nurse popping out to call yet another name. What I’m about to do is incredibly stupid and may end up with me getting hauled away in handcuffs, but I don’t care. Launching to my feet, I dash through the open door, ignoring the shouts as I search for any sign of Brooklyn.

The hallway is littered with people in chairs, some on stretchers as they wait to be seen by a nurse, PA, or doctor. They don’t appear to be in that bad of shape, maybe a sprained wrist or a dizzy spell necessitating a visit to the ER since most medical clinics are closed at this hour. Knowing I don’t have much longer before security comes after me, I turn down a hallway, peering into every room, none of them containing the woman I’m after.

As I near the end, a familiar moan finds my ears. I’ve heard that moan before, but when the person was experiencing pleasure. Now the sound is riddled with pain.

Not even thinking twice, I dash inside, closing and locking the door behind me. The detective told me what happened, but nothing could have prepared me for the sight that greets me. Brooklyn’s curled up on her side, blood seeping from a temporary bandage on her head, bruises around her neck, as if someone had tried to strangle her. The detective left that part out.

“Brooklyn,” I exhale, rushing to her, desperate to wrap her in my arms and assure her it will all be okay.

The instant I do, she yelps, wincing in agony. I step back, seeing her face scrunched. I survey her, not noticing anything that would cause this reaction. Then I recall the detective’s account that she was dragged across the parking lot.

My heart pounding, I slowly shift my gaze to her exposed back, choking out a sob when I see how bruised and bloodied it is, as if whoever attacked her got some twisted pleasure out of harming her like this.

“My god.” I shake my head, struggling to keep my tears at bay. “I am so sorry, Brooklyn. I fucked up. Tell me what I can do to make it up to you, and I’ll do it.” I sit in the chair beside her, brushing her hair out of her face. “Please, just—”

“Don’t. Touch. Me.” Her voice is scratchy as she glares at me, recoiling from my touch.

I drop my hand, my lips parting. “Brooklyn, I—”

“I saw you.” Her tone is alarmingly calm, as if she’s speaking to the judge regarding one of her cases, not addressing the man who just broke his promise to her…again.

“It’s not—”

“I. Saw. You,” she repeats louder. Gradually lifting her head, her wounded gaze locks with mine. I’ve hurt this woman more times than I care to count, but I’ve never felt as filled with remorse as I do at this moment.

“Please, Brooklyn,” I beg, my voice faltering. “It wasn’t what it looked like.”

“It doesn’t matter.” Her words are low, resigned, devoid of all emotion. Everything about her is devoid of emotion. I want her to yell at me, hit me, claw at me, anything to show a sign of life, to show that she’s still my Brooklyn. But she doesn’t.

“Skylar’s the one who encouraged Carla to petition for custody of the girls. When I learned that, I forgot about everything else. All I could think about was getting the truth out of Skylar. You know I’d do anything for my girls. When it comes to them, I become blind to everything else.”

“This is just another promise you made that you had no intention of following through with,” she murmurs. “I’m used to it at this point. I was weak and fell for your lies. I won’t make that mistake again.”

“It’s not just another promise,” I plead, digging my hands into my hair, an ache in my chest, my throat, my heart.

“For years, you tried to protect me from every single guy out there,” she continues, her voice still even. I’d give anything to hear even a hint of emotion from her, but I’ve broken her. “In all reality, the person you should have been protecting me from is you.”

Her words hit me harder than any fist to the face or hockey stick to the back I’ve experienced, knocking the breath from me. I scan her shriveled body as she closes her eyes, sick that I did this to her. Not just the physical wounds she endured tonight, but also the emotional ones she’s been carrying for years.

“I love you, Brooklyn.” I don’t know what else to say at this point. No explanation seems fitting.

“No, you don’t. You like the idea of me…until something better comes along. Then I’ll be invisible again. Just let me be invisible, Drew.”

“I can’t do that. I just…” I draw in a deep breath, kneeling in front of her. “I need you to trust me when I say this isn’t just another broken promise. There never was a broken promise to begin with. I wanted to be there the day I left for college. So bad. It killed me to leave you, but I didn’t have a choice.”

She opens her eyes, staring at me with a hint of indecision, something in the pleading tone of my voice cutting through her armor.

“I couldn’t sleep the night before, the memory of your kisses better than any dream. I got out of bed early, the minutes seeming to drag as I waited until it was time for me to see you. But as I was packing, your—”

Instantly, the door bursts open, cutting me off. I’m forced to my feet, staring into a familiar pair of eyes.

“Drew,” Mr. Tanner says, stoic, severe, unwavering. Two security guards stand behind him. Despite their wide stances, they’re not that big. I can easily take both out with no problem, but I doubt that’ll win me any points with Brooklyn. “I think it’s best if you leave.”

I square my shoulders, crossing my arms over my chest, pushing it out to appear more formidable. “I’ll go.” My eyes find Brooklyn’s. “If that’s what you want.”

He assesses me, mimicking my pose. “Of course it is.”

“Not you. Brooklyn.”

She perks up, her brows furrowed as she peers at me.

“All you have to do is say the word and I will walk out that door.” I point to the open doorway. “And you will never have to see me again. If that’s what you want.” My Adam’s apple bobs up and down, my voice catching as I trail off. “If you truly believe I don’t care about you, that I’d intentionally hurt you, that I deliberately broke my promise to you, I’ll leave and never look back. If that’s what you truly believe.”

I hold my breath, waiting for her response, the silence amplified by the monitors measuring her heart and brainwaves.

“Tell me to go, and I’ll give you your wish. I’ll let you be invisible again.”

She parts her lips, her eyes darting between me and her father, but no words come.

“That’s enough.” Mr. Tanner grasps my shoulder, pushing me toward the doorway. “She needs her rest.”

“Fine.” I shrug him off, retreating into the hallway, ignoring all the curious eyes from the medical staff congregated around the door. “I’m going.” My voice is loud so they all hear. That does nothing to persuade the security personnel, who follow until I’m out of the waiting room area and heading toward the parking lot.

My neck is strained, every muscle in my body tense as I storm toward my car, wracking my brain for a way I can fix this, a way I can make Brooklyn see I’m not the asshole she considers me to be. Hopefully, she just needs a chance to calm down. Like everything, this will blow over. It has to.

As I’m about to duck into my car and call Gigi to let her know what’s happened, someone shouts my name, the voice like nails on a chalkboard. I stop, taking a moment to reel in my rage, then turn around to face Brooklyn’s father.

“Drew…,” he begins, but I cut him off, not allowing him to say another word.

“Why don’t you like me?” My tone is harsh, demanding, evidencing my desperation over the situation. I’ve done nothing but show this man respect. He’s done nothing but try to keep his daughter from me.

He stares at me, considering his response. Then his gaze narrows, his distaste for me clear. “I went through her phone.”

“You what?” My eyes bulge out of their sockets. I’m unable to wrap my head around this degree of control over another human, especially an adult.

“I needed to alert Wes to what happened. When I saw all the missed calls from you, it piqued my curiosity, so I went through her texts to see what kind of ‘friendship’ you two still had,” he sneers, using air quotes.

Heat rolls over my face, the ground feeling like it’s giving out from beneath me. Over the past week, we’ve sent dozens of texts to each other, some sweet and sincere, others lust-filled and wanton. He wouldn’t have had to go that far back in our texts to find ones neither of us could claim were just harmless and innocent.

“She’s engaged,” he hisses through a tight jaw, leaning into me.

“She doesn’t love him.”

“And you think she loves you?”

“I know she does. She told me as much this morning when she kissed me goodbye before leaving my house.” My words do nothing except upset him further, but I didn’t fight hard enough for Brooklyn all those years ago. She needs to know I’ll jump every hurdle facing me this time. Even if that hurdle is her father. “And I love her.”

“Love her enough to ditch her for the Celtics game?”

I swallow hard, about to explain myself when he interrupts me.

“I was watching. I saw you sitting courtside. Didn’t think anything of it. Then I received a phone call from Revere PD, saying Brooklyn had been rushed to the hospital. When I got here and asked what she was doing at the beach this late at night, she told me she was supposed to meet a friend. From the texts I saw, it appears that friend was you. Isn’t that right?”

I nod, the motion subtle.

“Yet, at the same time you were supposed to meet her, you were sitting courtside. If that’s love—”

“Something came up. Something important that required my immediate attention.”

“Important enough that you couldn’t pick up the phone and call Brooklyn to let her know? The first missed call from you didn’t appear until after eight! She’d been waiting for you for over an hour! An hour!” He shakes his head, his chin quivering. “She could have died. That bastard was the brother of the father in one of her TPR cases who’s serving a twenty-year sentence for trafficking! If Detective Santa Rosa didn’t show up when he did, God knows what would have happened to her.”

“Don’t you think I know that!” I bellow, my voice echoing against the surrounding buildings. “Don’t you think I’ve been thinking the same thing? Because I have! And it makes me sick.”

“Stay away from her.” His lips curl in the corners as he straightens his posture, returning to the formidable man I’ve always known him to be. “You’ve never done anything but hurt her.”

“Because of you! You gave me no choice but to hurt her. You can’t keep her away from me this time. You can’t threaten me with criminal charges anymore. I’m not the scared teenager I once was.”

“If you love her like you claim you do, you’ll let her move on with her life.” He holds my gaze a moment longer, then turns from me, heading back toward the hospital.

“And if you love her, you’ll tell her the truth about what happened before I left for college!” I shout.

He comes to an abrupt stop, pausing. On a long exhale, he glances over his shoulder at me. “You know I can’t do that.”

“I never said a word to her, never told her why I didn’t show up when I promised I would. Do you want to know why?”

His hardened expression faltering, he remains silent.

“Because I didn’t want her to think any less of you, didn’t want her to harbor any animosity toward you. So I’ve kept it quiet, even though I know the truth would give me the one thing I’ve always wanted.” I struggle to blink back the tears forming in my eyes.

“What’s that?” he asks timidly.

“Her. She’s all I’ve ever wanted. Now the woman I’ve loved my entire life won’t believe the truth even if I did tell her. She won’t believe me when I tell her I love her, that I want to spend the rest of my life with her, marry her, have a family with her. That I will honor her, provide for her, worship her for the rest of my days. All because I’ve spent the past seventeen years trying to do the right thing. Now I’m begging you to do the right thing and tell her.”

His lips part, turmoil covering the lines of his face.

“If she heard the truth from you, things might be different. Please…” I trail off, my words choked.

He stands there for what feels like an eternity, torn at my request. I’m putting him in a difficult position. But he put me in this same position before I left for college. I’ve spent the past several decades regretting that I didn’t stand up to him, tell him how much I loved his daughter, that I would never do anything to hurt her. He overreacted back then, just like he’s overreacting now. He knows it, but is that enough?

“Drew,” he says with a long sigh. “You have two daughters of your own now. You may not have experience with these things yet, but you will soon. And you’ll want the best for them. Wes comes from a good family. He’ll be able to give Brooklyn things I never could have imagined for her. She’ll never have to go to sleep worrying about where the money for the next mortgage payment will come from. Whether she’ll have enough in her account to put gas in the car to get her to work. Whether she’ll have to sleep in a cold house in the dead of winter because she couldn’t afford the heating costs.”

“She wouldn’t have to worry about any of those things with me, either! I’ve done very well for myself. I’ve made sacrifices my entire life to be successful. I’ve just been offered a seven-figure salary to coach for the Bruins.”

“She won’t have to worry about her spouse being unfaithful.”

“I’d never hurt her like that. Never. And at least with me, she’ll have love.”

“Wes loves her,” he responds.

“But she doesn’t love him,” I say once more. “I know she doesn’t.” I pause, studying his demeanor, something about the way he’s staring at me with apprehension making me think he agrees with my assessment. “And you know she doesn’t. Please. You have the power to fix this.”

An unspoken apology in his eyes, he turns from me. “But at a price I’m not willing to pay.”