Chapter Twelve - Anthony
I wake up in the least comfortable bed I’ve slept in a long time. The mattress is lumpier and the sheets are cheaper than the ones I had in grad school. I don’t care because I’m also waking up happier than I have in a long time. Waking up next to Brooke feels like the best, most natural thing in the world. She’s nestled into my chest, still asleep under my arm, and she looks beautiful and soft and perfect. Last night was amazing, and all I want to do is touch her and taste her again. I want to feel what it’s like to be inside her like that again, feel her come around me. I want to have sex with her in every single way. I want to do nothing but spend days in bed with her. I want her to be naked and happy and mine.
I’m used to sleeping with someone and then immediately thinking about who my next gorgeous conquest will be. With Brooke, all I can do is think that I want more of her. So much more of her. She stirs under me and blinks, squinting her eyes at me and then smiling.
“Good morning,” I say, kissing her forehead. She looks beautiful, even here with her hair messy and in her eyes.
“Morning,” she says. She puts a hand on my chest, over my heart, like she’s checking that I’m real.
“Have I told you,” I say, tucking her hair behind her ear, “that I really missed you? I think I missed you more than I even knew.”
“I missed you too,” Brooke says, folding into my touch and swallowing, hard.
“I can’t believe we went so long without doing that,” I say, laughing. Brooke laughs, too.
“Would have been a little hard to do when you were gone,” Brooke says, sounding a little sad. I’m about to reply, to tell her we can make up for lost time now, when her doorbell rings and startles us both. Brooke bolts up and grabs a robe, tying it around herself tightly and heading for her front door.
I pull my phone off her nightstand, texting my mom to thank her again for staying with David last night. I know I’ll have to answer questions about it later, but all of me is sure it was worth it. I head for the bathroom to wash off and brush my teeth. I’m hoping whoever is at the door doesn’t take too long. I want Brooke again. I want to repeat last night. I’m already turned on and half hard just thinking about fucking her again.
I’m thinking about the way her skin had felt under my hands, the way she’d responded to my touch, when I hear the voices from her door. They’re raised and angry. There’s a man’s voice, and it sounds like he’s yelling at Brooke, maybe threatening her. Brooke sounds angry too – angry and possibly a little scared. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but their tones worry me. The door slams a few seconds later, and I step back into the bedroom.
Brooke’s face looks pale. Her eyes are wide, and her hands are shaking. I grab her hands and take one of them, holding it in mine.
“What’s going on?” I ask. Brooke shakes her head rapidly.
“Nothing,” she says. I frown, sure something is wrong.
“I heard yelling, and you look really shaken,” I say. I reach for Brooke’s face, tilting her chin, but she won’t meet my eyes.
“I’m fine,” she says, looking at her own knees as she talks. “It was nothing.”
“It seems like it was something pretty serious,” I say. Brooke’s hands are still shaking in mine like she can’t control it.
“Really, it’s nothing,” she says.
“Brooke, come on,” I say gently, “Tell me.”
“There’s nothing to tell,” she says, pulling her hand out of mine and shaking her head again.
“I can tell that there is,” I insist.
“You’re wrong,” she says, finally meeting my eyes. I run my hand down her arm, hoping the touch helps.
“Let me help you,” I say. Whoever had been threatening Brooke at the door had sounded pretty serious about it. I hate the thought of anyone talking to Brooke like that. I think of the day I’d first called her and she’d yelled at me to go to hell, saying she thought I was someone else. I think of the tired and stressed look she has at times. If it is all connected, then it seems like it is all part of some huge problem she’s keeping from me.
“I don’t need help,” Brooke says, pulling away further and standing up. “I need to go take a shower. Excuse me.”
She darts into her bathroom before I can say anything else. I lay back on the bed, frustrated and feeling like something is very, very wrong. I hear the shower start and consider leaving, but I decide that Brooke is too important. She might not want my help right now, but I can do more being here than I can if I leave.
I head into her small kitchen and find her coffee, starting a pot for us, thinking she might want it when she gets out of the shower. She doesn’t have much else in the way of food, but I fry up a few eggs too. I’m not much of a cook, but there are several things I can make very well. I fed myself when I was single. Women have always loved my cooking and said it was a turn-on, but it’s also something fun to do with David now that he’s old enough to help.
I hope the coffee and breakfast make Brooke feel like she can trust me with whatever is going on.