Yeah, I have no excuse for this being up as late as it is. I got so bored with the way this chapter went and I rewrote it at least six times, so I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading!
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When I wake up the next morning, Brooke isn't in the bed with me. Her spot is practically ice cold, so I figure she's been gone for a while. Checking the time, I see that it's only a little before eight, but she doesn't have school till 10, so where is she?
Sitting up, I rub my eyes and become more oriented and aware of my surroundings and, hearing the loud whir of the coffee machine as it brews, I guess that that's what Brooke's doing up so early.
I'm not worried about it though because Brooke is known to have early-riser tendencies from time to time.
I shrug on a flannel over my tee shirt and groggily walk to the kitchen, but Brooke isn't there. She must be in the living room then.
I don't hear the voices until after I've poured two mugs of coffee. I turn my head to figure out where the source is coming from. I recognize both of the voices immediately, Brooke and another.
Another voice that has haunted me for the best part of 10 years.
There's no way.
She shouldn't be here.
I speed walk to the living room, forgetting about the coffee on the counter, needing to know if my hearing is serving me true.
I peek around the wall, and I about go into cardiac arrest at the sight in front of me. My limbs freeze and anything I have to say dies in my throat. Had I been drinking something, I'm sure I would have performed a spit take in pure shock. There on the couch is Brooke, and sure enough, there's Josie beside her.
What the fuck is she doing here?!
The first thing I notice is how much emotion they're both exuding. Anger, sadness, shock, to name a few. The next thing is how closely they sit next to each other. The closer you sit to someone, the more you trust them or at least tolerate them. The third thing is how animatedly they're talking to each other, and the more one says, the more the other gets hyped up and emotional.
Oh my god.
What is going on?!
The room gets hotter around me, and I feel a nervous sweat trickling down my spine.
Do I make myself known? Do I listen in on their conversation? How is Josie here? How did she even find me?
I guess I don't have to worry about the first two questions because a nervous sneeze builds its way up my throat, and I have their undivided attention.
I have the attention of two stubborn, emotional, seemingly pissed off women.
Lucky me.
They're both glaring daggers at me, and tear tracks run down Brooke's face.
"You are a liar!" she screams. In the blink of an eye, she's off the couch and throwing a pillow at my face, which I narrowly duck out of the way for. I stare at it on the ground behind me in shock. There's no way that that much anger came out of a person like Brooke. She's too easy-going to be so explosive.
"You're a cheater!" Josie rages. A vase whooses passed my shoulder, and I turn back to her in surprise.
"Let me explain," I beg, hands up in the air in surrender.
"Your excuses are bullshit! Nobody would believe you either!"
I stare at her helplessly.
There's no way that the people standing in front of me are the women I'd fallen for.
"Just give a chance to-"
"Save it!" Brooke interrupts. "You think whatever you have to say will make me stay? You couldn't be more wrong!"
With every word, the girls step closer and closer to me, caging me in, and with every word, my throat constricts a little tighter and my stomach gets kicked. I fall to my knees in agony, not knowing what else to do.
"You're a fraud!"
"You're a pathetic excuse of a man!"
"Who could ever have really loved you?"
I bolt upright in bed, heaving with sweat dripping everywhere. I grab onto my sheets to steady myself, glancing around wildly and trying to steady my heart. I catch sight of Brooke sleeping soundly beside me, totally and blissfully unaware of the trainwreck beside her.
I check the time to see it's barely past four in the morning.
Pushing the tears back, I squeeze my eyes shut and fall back against the headboard.
It was all so real. It was way too real.
Running my hands down my face, I attempt to push all thoughts of that nightmare out of my head.
It wasn't real.
I slide out of bed, knowing that there isn't any way that I'm going to be able to fall asleep after that and shrug on a flannel. After making some coffee, I sit out on the balcony, just thinking. Thinking about how Brooke is going to take the news of me being a recent divorcee. Thinking about how Josie wasn't really over me when I returned home all those years ago. Thinking about how this should have turned out differently.
But it didn't. This is how it is, and there's no going back to change the past. It's impossible.
I fiddle with the velvet box sitting in my palms, wondering if it's worth all of this bullshit.
I sigh, reminding myself yet again that everything will turn out the way it's supposed to. I wouldn't be facing this challenge if I couldn't handle it.
I can handle it. I know I can because I'll have to. It's not like I can just go back to Josie after all of this if Brooke decides to break things off with me.
After putting the ring back in my pocket, I mull over exactly how I'm supposed to tell Brooke about my previous marriage. I'll need to just be very upfront and straight with her. At least, that's how I would want to be told that my boyfriend was still married and running away from his problems when we started dating, but who knows? I could be totally wrong about all of this.
A couple of hours later, I return to my room to find that Brooke is still passed out. Good. I crawl back in beside her and mess around on my phone while waiting for her alarms to go off, even though my mind is hardly paying attention to the mind-numbing games I'm attempting to play;
When they do around nine, I feel her stir gently, pulling the blanket closer around us.
"Don't make me wake up," she groans groggily. She pushes her hair out of her face in a sloppy manner and rests her chin on my chest, staring up at me.
"But you have to," I coax softly.
She rolls her eyes before squinting out the window.
"You suck."
I scoff internally.
Tell me something I don't know.
"Doesn't change the fact that you have to get up."
She rolls away from me and stretches out, accidentally kicking my ankle.
I grin mischievously as I bump my foot against her leg.
She looks back at me and scoffs, saying, "What are we? Sixteen?" She still kicks me back though.
I give her a one-shoulder shrug, my lips still quirked into a smile.
About a half-hour later, we're standing at my front door, both about to leave. Me taking Johnny for a much-needed walk, and her to whatever classes she has today. I can never keep up with her schedule.
"I'll be out by two. Maybe we could grab some lunch?" she suggests as she waits for me to lock the door.
"That works. I'll come to pick you up. Outside of Countway?" I confirm. I hold the door of the apartment building open and she slips through.
"Yep. I'll be there." She leans up to kiss me quickly and squeezes my shoulder. "I love you," she calls.
"Love you, too."
She walks away to the bus stop down the block, and I turn to head to the park.
I had thought about heading into work today and just throwing myself back into my daily routine, but I realized that I need the day off to collect myself and readjust to the fast pace that is Boston.
About 10 minutes later, Johnny and I find ourselves at the park, and I unclip his leash, letting him loose. He's a favorite to the regulars here, so I don't worry about him getting into too much trouble. It's not like he leaves my sight anyway.
I sit down on a park bench, watching my dog play with a group of children no older than four or five. They throw a ball for him and giggle when he brings it back and drops it to their feet.
I can't help but wonder what Josie's doing today. Is she working?
Had this been eight years ago, I would have been able to predict exactly what she's doing down to the minute, but it's not eight years ago. I have no idea what she does with her time anymore or when she works or who she spends her time with.
I don't know what my problem is. I was perfectly fine leaving seven years ago after I saw her with Carrie Ann's whoever, so why is it so hard for me to stop thinking about her now, and especially as if I have a silly crush on her?
A little girl comes up and sits beside me, interrupting my thoughts.
"Is Johnny your dog?" she asks politely. Her curly red hair falls into her face, and she tucks it behind her ear.
"Yep," I answer.
"He's a good dog," she comments matter-of-factly.
I suppress a chuckle and nod.
"He's a great dog."
"My name is Josie. Who are you?"
Of course, that would her name.
"I'm Cole," I answer. I ignore the foreignness of the name on my tongue. "Where're your parents? Do they know where you are?"
She points to a man and woman about my age across the sidewalk and to the left about 20 yards away.
"That's my mommy."
"Is that your dad?"
"No. He died." I flinch. "That's my new daddy, but I don't like him."
I know I shouldn't be talking to her. I know I should give her back to her mom, but I can't help myself.
"Why not?"
"Because he's mean to my mommy. They get very loud sometimes, and he hits her."
My stomach drops at her confession, and I force myself to remain calm.
"Do you or her call the police?"
"No, Mommy doesn't let me because he always brings her flowers after he pushes her, and she told me that he will do very bad things if we do."
The fact that she says this so casually to a random stranger scares me. No child should ever have to witness or go through what this little girl is.
What's worse, is I can't help but get involved.
"Can I ask you a favor?" I ask, thinking.
She nods, and I continue.
"The next time that he's mean to your mommy, can you call 911 for me?"
"Even though Mommy told me not to?"
"Even though she told you not to. She could get very hurt." I can't help her if we don't have probable cause to suspect anything out of the ordinary, and unfortunately, creeps like her step-father always seem to have mastered being discreet.
She ponders the decision for a little bit and finally answers.
"Yeah, I can. Then what?"
"Are your mom and your new daddy married?"
"Yes."
"Ask for Cole Roberts at the police station, okay? I have a friend who can help out your mommy, and I can bring her with me."
"Is he going to go to jail?"
My heart stops at her question, and I look to her mom and step-father sitting on the nearby bench. What shocks me is that you'd never guess that they were a family undergoing domestic violence. The man leans on his elbow on the back of the bench, reaching over to brush a stray hair away from the woman's face. I can't see the woman's face from my angle, so I can't get a read on how she's feeling exactly, but based on how I see her back tense up the closer his hand gets to her face, I can tell that she isn't happy.
I look back to Josie and into her deep brown eyes.
"More than likely, Josie."
She looks away before she answers, observing her mother and her husband.
"Good." She shifts her gaze back to Johnny. "I'm going to go play with Johnny now. Thank you for helping me and my mommy."
"No problem, cutie. Just don't forget your promise, okay?"
"I won't I promise."
She puts her palm up close to her mouth, spits in it, and then holds it out to me to shake. I immediately scrunch my nose and purse my lips.
"I saw this in a movie. You do it to extra promise somebody. You spit in your hand, and it's an unbreakable promise." She's so convinced in the spit-shake that I have no choice but to agree.
I spit in my hand and shake her hand.
"This wouldn't be happening if you weren't so cute," I comment. I let go of her hand and discreetly wipe it on the side of my jeans.
"My mommy says that too."
"I bet she does. It was nice meeting you, Josie."
"It was nice meeting you too, Cole Roberts."
She runs off, effectively ending our conversation. She bounds towards Johnny and the other children, who are throwing a frisbee for my dog to catch.
I rest my elbows on my knees and rest my head in my hands.
There was no way that I couldn't help Josie and her mother after she told me what was happening behind her house's walls, especially in the position that I'm in to help.
I rise from the bench and dust off my jeans. I need to speak with the mother, get a read on the family dynamic.
As I approach, I realize that they're both my age, give or take a couple of years. Josie has the same unruly head of red hair like her mother, but her eyes must be her father's. Whereas the man is built and clearly tall, the woman is small and stick-thin.
"Excuse me," I say, interrupting their conversation.
The man immediately assumes a slightly defensive position as he crosses his arms and leans forward in his seat, watching my carefully.
"And you are?" he asks gruffly.
"Mark," the woman says softly, grabbing onto his bicep.
"I'm Cole Roberts. I just had a lovely chat with your daughter, Josie," I explain, keeping an easy manner about myself. I know that these type of guys are easily provoked.
At the mention of Josie, they both perk up.
"I'm so sorry about her. I hope she wasn't a bother," the mother apologizes, "She tends to have the need to just talk to everybody she meets."
I shake my head and force a chuckle.
"No, not at all. She's quite the pleasure. She was so smart, telling me all about my dog and how much she wants one."
Her mother takes on a cautious smile, glancing at Mark.
"She's always wanted a dog of her own. Unfortunately, where we live, we can't have pets. I didn't know that yours is the one she plays with. She won't stop talking about him," she comments sincerely.
"That is unfortunate. I just came by to tell you that you must be doing something right with her. She's incredibly smart and articulate."
The mother flashes a small, completely genuine smile, and I watch as Mark recoils.
"Do you have anything better to do than flirt with my wife all day?" he snaps, and I cast my gaze to him, hardening it.
"Just wanted to compliment her parenting, though I can tell it's not appreciated. I'll be on my way. Have a fantastic rest of your day," I finish, a slight edge to my voice.
See you on the flip side, loser.
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So. . .thoughts? Do you think that Colt was right to intervene, or should he have kept his trap shut?
I had to switch it up, and I needed some more action because I was getting bored. Is it short? Yeah. Is it better than nothing? Yep.
Like I said in my Warning chapter, I have a script, though sometimes I stray from it.
Don't forget to vote and comment!
See you on the flip side!
XX Blondie XX