“Let’s talk about it at my house.”
Brooke paused by her car with her keys in her hand. “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me what’s wrong.”
Gabe had been half in his car when she made that statement. Rolling his eyes, he shut the door and started back up the driveway. “Why does it matter?”
“Because I left the room for less than five minutes, and everything was weird when I came back. The last time that happened, I got dumped, so if that’s what’s happening here, I’d just as soon get it over with.”
He couldn’t keep his lips from twitching up.
“What?” she snapped.
Feeling playful despite her sour mood, Gabe nudged her back against her car. He didn’t bother explaining. Instead, he put his lips over hers. She resisted for about two seconds, then eagerly kissed him back.
When he loosened his hold, he said, “Get in the car and follow me to my house. We’ll talk about it when we get there, but I promise you it’s nothing bad. No fear.”
Leaving that as the only explanation she was going to get, Gabe pinched her chin before walking away.
It took fifteen minutes to get across town and another five to make their way down the back roads that led to his family’s isolated home. Located on three acres of property, their house was tucked away from civilization and backed onto a heavily forested area that boasted a snowmobile trail and a little brook he and Nick had caught catfish in as children.
The house itself was a custom design his father had built. It had two two-car garages separated by an auto court, four bedrooms on the second floor, and a guest suite on the ground floor. The basement had a bar, ping-pong table, an entertainment area, a separate bathroom, and a small bedroom, where Nick had often stayed during their youth. The entire thing was a contemporary mix of rustic country with a touch of modern décor.
Gabe had been fortunate to grow up in such a home. Not only was it a gorgeous building, but he’d been surrounded by a warm, nurturing family. He’d wanted for nothing, a fact he didn’t overlook, not after having witnessed firsthand the shit box Nick had been forced to call home.
They parked and headed into the house together, hand in hand. His mom was home, but his dad had been held up at the office. Even though he owned the company, Chris Fuller tended to work at least two Saturdays a month.
His mother turned down Brooke’s offer to help in the kitchen. The table was already set, and a roast complete with potatoes, onions, and carrots was heating in the oven. While they waited on his dad, Gabe offered to show Brooke the house.
They both knew she’d been there before, but it had been years ago and not during happy circumstances.
He showed her the pool and the outdoor living space just out the patio doors, and past the breakfast nook. They toured the main floor and the upstairs. He showed her what used to be Amelia’s room and pointed out his room.
She’d grinned and said, “I remember.”
Surprised by her carefree manner, Gabe continued. She followed him back downstairs and then into the basement.
“Wow.” Spinning in a circle with her arms thrown wide, she exclaimed, “This whole place is amazing. I know I’ve been here before, but I never imagined. You must have had a blast growing up.”
“I think that’s part of the reason I’m so reluctant to get my own place.” Gabe smiled. He paid rent to his parents and felt they enjoyed having their kids nearby, but he knew it was past time to get his own house. “Dad built it when I was about twelve, but yeah, Nick, Amelia, and I had fun.”
“That’s right, Nick stayed with you sometimes.”
“Whenever his parents kicked him out.”
Sadly, Brooke shook her head. “Where did he sleep?”
Gabe pointed to the closed double doors behind her. It housed a queen-sized bed and not much else, but Nick had still loved it.
She glanced over her shoulder at the closed doors. When she turned back to him, she had a mischievous glint in her eye. “Do you think they got it on down here?”
“Oh, God! I don’t want to think about that.” With a fresh pair of eyes, he surveyed the room. Thinking back on that Christmas a year and a half ago had him contemplating. He scrubbed his face with his hands, trying not to imagine it.
Brooke laughed, but the sound was cut short when he looked at her. Guessing his intent, Brooke scurried away, but Gabe grabbed her and hauled her to the sofa. She struggled, but he kissed her into submission. When he had her successfully pinned, he broached the difficult topic he’d been wondering about since they left her mother’s house.
Gently, as though he was trying to coax a wild animal, Gabe insisted, “Tell me about the suicide attempt.”
* * *
Brooke froze. So that was what they’d been talking about. Why had her mother looked so sad, and Gabe seemed so sullen? Instantly, she grew defensive. “I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity. I’m curious. I want to know what happened.” His hand fell to the inside of her thigh. “Is that what the marks are about?”
“Gabe, it’s not a happy story.” She glanced away. “And I’ll mostly end up looking foolish.”
He nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “Please tell me.”
“You know how fucked up I was in grade ten. On top of my obsession,” she couldn’t look him in the eye. Instead, she chose to focus on the collar of his t-shirt, picking at it. “I struggled with anorexia. I had a lot of problems.”
“Counseling didn’t go well?”
“What exactly did my mom tell you?”
“If you need me to go first, that’s fine, but I’d like to know what you went through.”
He’d never fully be able to understand what she’d experienced, so she would try to keep some of the ugliness from him. “Yes. That would be helpful.”
“All she really said was that you were hospitalized during grade eleven and that after your first appointment, you took a bunch of pain pills.” Even though he’d said he didn’t pity her, she could still see the empathy in his brown-eyed gaze. Gently, he brushed a strand of hair out of her face. “Please tell me what happened.”
“It’s not easy, you know. To get your head right. It’s taken me a long time to be able to function properly, and sometimes I still slip. That first counseling appointment made me so angry at myself for what I’d done to you. I felt so much guilt, and I was full of shame. Everyone hated me: you, your family, your friends—they all thought I was crazy. At the time, I thought my mom was angry, and I guess she sort of was, but she was mostly just worried. I thought things would be better and everyone would be better off if I weren’t around.”
Gabe stayed quiet. She could feel his gaze on her but couldn’t bring herself to meet it. “Dan had a prescription for oxycodone, a pill he took to help with his knee pain. I stole the bottle from their bathroom and took what was left in it.”
“Your mom said she found you.”
Brooke shoved at him. “This is so embarrassing! I wish she hadn’t told you.”
Gabe let her up, but he watched her, ready to stop her if she made a move to run. “I wish I’d known sooner that I’d clued in when I saw your legs or that Kevin had told me.”
Sitting up made it a little easier. Refusing to look at him, she picked at the polish on the nail of her left index finger. “It’s not a nice story.”
He said nothing, but she felt his hand rubbing her back in rhythmic circles. “I had passed out and started vomiting. Mom called 911, and they had to pump my stomach. I had counseling a little more frequently after that. I was doing pretty well through the summer before grade eleven.”
“I didn’t see much of you back then. Was that helpful? Not being around me?”
“Yes and no. You need to understand something, Gabe. I don’t want you to feel bad about this. This whole thing, what was wrong with me, is wrong with me. It isn’t because of you. It was always my problem.”
“Okay.” He still sounded confused.
“I started cutting after that first suicide attempt. And I kept it up through that summer.”
“Why?”
She was often asked that question by people who had never done it. “It relaxed me. Cutting releases endorphins, which made the stress and anxiety go away. But once you start cutting, it’s so hard to stop. It’s addictive and an easy way to make the pain go away.”
“When was the last time you did it?”
She had to think about it, which made her brighten. “It’s been a few years now—maybe five.”
“So, what landed you in the hospital?” When she didn’t respond right away, he prompted, “Your mom said that was the first time you tried to commit suicide.”
“In September of that year, I tried again. It was a weekend; Dan had gone out with some friends, and my mom had gone to work. Dan’s car was in the garage. I locked myself in it and started it up.”
The hand on her back stilled. Gabe was nearly shaking. “Jesus, Brooke.”
“Mom forgot her wrist brace for work and came back to the house. She heard the car running and came out to the garage. She banged on the window and demanded that I get out. I hadn’t been in there very long, thank God because that stuff can cause some really bad health problems.”
“What did your mom do?”
“She started to reprimand me and demanded where I was going. She thought I’d been trying to take the car on a joyride without a license. When I didn’t answer her, she realized the truth, which, of course, prompted her to call 911 again, and that time, it landed me in a facility.”
“Please tell me that was the last time?”
Brooke glanced over at him and encountered the saddest eyes.
It was hard not to laugh at how soft and sweet he looked. These were awful memories, but for him, this was all new.
He was concerned for her. She took his hand in her own. She’d rehashed this story repeatedly, to multiple doctors, people in support groups and therapy groups, and counselors. For her, telling it was like talking about having broken a bone. Yes, she still suffered twinges of pain deep down in her soul, but she was better now. Stronger.
Sorrow stole her smile. She hated how she’d hurt her mother. “To this day, my mother can’t hear Angel of the Morning without crying.” Gabe looked puzzled. “That was the song playing on the car radio when she found me.”
“You don’t still have thoughts like that, do you?”
“Not in the same way. Sometimes, when I’m low, yeah, I think about it, but it’s different now. I know I’d never act on it.”
“What stops you now?”
“I’ve learned to focus on other things—things to distract me. I still see a counselor at times. When we found out about Mom’s cancer, I immediately started going back. If anything, this will cause me to slip. She’s part of my safety plan, and pretty soon, she’ll be gone.” That thought caused her voice to wobble.
“Kevin knows?”
The question pulled her from her wayward musings. “Of course. We’d been friends before the incident that took place here. Afterward, we grew closer. We spent hours on the phone. You know, typical teenager stuff. He came to visit me when you guys were in grade eleven. That was when we started dating. Through it all, he stood by me.”
Kevin’s decision to end their relationship probably confused many people—but not her.
Gabe nodded. “That probably helped you.”
“It did a little. But counseling helped the most. That, and the anti-depressants.”
After a glance toward the stairs, Gabe stood up, pulling her to her feet at the same time. “That’s enough of that topic for now, I think.”
That was all there was to tell. “I agree.”
Tenderly, he touched her chin. “I just have one question left. Why me?”
Why not you? She thought, looking at him. She cupped his cheek. “I haven’t had a lot of friends in my life. It’s hard for me to get along with girls, and boys just never really cared. I was bullied at my elementary school and also in grade nine. That’s when I started having issues with food. Because of all that, I changed schools. You were one of the first people I met after the switch.”
“I remember. We were partnered together in science class.”
“You were really nice to me—the first person that wasn’t related to me that actually smiled at me. You said kind things, you made jokes, and you were friendly. I latched onto you, and I’m sorry. I was young and dumb and hurting, and I took it too far.”
He kissed her palm. “But that was then.”
Her lips quivered. “You want to know what I think of you now, is that it?”
He blinked at her without answering.
“I’ve had a lot of feelings about you over the years. Obsession, love, anger, hatred,” he flinched, “but now? I’ve really enjoyed our encounters over the past couple of weeks.” Pushing on her tiptoes, she deposited kisses to his cheeks, his chin, his lips, and his nose. Each kiss punctuated her words. “You’ve been sweet, and kind, and attentive, and you’re incredibly hot.”
Upstairs, she heard a second set of footsteps on the floor. With his dad home, it probably wouldn’t be long until dinner would be ready. She ran her fingers down his chest, then cupped him through his jeans. “I particularly like this.”
Before he could make a move, she skirted around him and headed for the stairs. She turned at the landing to see if he was following her.
Since their naughty activities in the changing room, Brooke had wondered when they’d have sex again. The heated look he gave her made her doubt she’d have to wait until the next motel meeting. If she guessed right, he might just take her again tonight.