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They made their goodbyes in the hospital parking lot. Teddy transferred Brooke’s suitcase from his Explorer to their mom’s car for her, then Dylan drove Brooke home.
“Was it really fine?” he asked, throwing a worried glance her way as he pulled out onto the highway.
Brooke looked down at the hand her father had fallen asleep holding. “He told me he was sorry. And that he loved me.”
Dylan reached across the console and took her hand, his fingers strong and warm as they covered hers.
She wanted to reassure him that she was fine, but she really had no idea if she was. Her exhaustion—both physical and emotional—had wrung her out completely. It was all she could do to keep her eyes open for the rest of the drive home.
Ten minutes later, Dylan parked behind her dad’s F-150 in the driveway of her parents’ house, carried Brooke’s suitcase up the three steps onto the porch, and unlocked the front door before handing over the keys.
“Are you okay?” he asked, studying her with concerned eyes. “I know today was hard for you.”
“It’s been a lot better with you here,” she answered honestly. “I really can’t thank you enough for coming.” She hoped he hadn’t missed anything important to come here. She hadn’t even thought to ask, but if he’d missed a job because of her…
“You don’t have to thank me,” he said, and gave her a hug.
She let out a long breath as she rested her cheek against his chest and felt his arms wrap around her. God, his hugs were amazing. The one place she felt like everything was okay was curled up inside his protective warmth. If only she could live inside one of his hugs forever. Or even just for the rest of the night…
She’d missed him so much, and now he was here and she still missed him, because everything was different and uncertain between them, and she didn’t know how to fix it.
He let go of her and shuffled backward uncertainly, shoving his hands deep in his pockets. “I should…” He hooked a thumb over his shoulder at his house.
Brooke nodded, but didn’t say anything. She wanted to ask him to stay, she wanted it desperately, but she didn’t have the right. She’d hurt him, and they still hadn’t talked about that.
Her brain was too scrambled with exhaustion right now to think clearly, but the one thing she did know was that she didn’t want to be alone in this house tonight. She didn’t want to let Dylan go, even though she knew that wasn’t fair to him.
“Unless…” He studied her for a long moment, brow furrowed.
A moth flapped around the yellow porch light behind his head as Brooke held her breath and waited for him to finish. She wouldn’t say it for him.
“Unless you want me to come in,” he offered finally.
“You don’t have to.” Her voice sounded so small it was almost drowned out by the nighttime chorus of cicadas and humming air conditioners around them.
Dylan’s eyes stared into hers. “Do you want me to?”
Brooke nodded even as guilt stabbed at her. She didn’t want to be like the kid inThe Giving Tree, taking and taking without ever giving back, heedless of the damage she was doing. But she wasn’t strong enough to turn down his offer. “Only if you don’t mind.”
“I don’t mind.” Dylan cocked his head and gestured for her to precede him inside.
Brooke wheeled her suitcase into the living room, flipped on the lights, and kicked her shoes off as he locked the front door behind them.
The house felt eerily empty—even more so than it had earlier—and a shiver traveled down her spine to the pit of her stomach.
Then Dylan stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, and suddenly the house didn’t feel empty at all. It felt full of love and kindness, like a home should. There was comfort in the familiarity of Dylan’s presence here, in this house where they’d spent so much time together as kids. Where their friendship had first formed and bloomed.
“Can I do anything?” he asked, and the tenderness of his voice, combined with the gentle pressure of his hands, was too much for Brooke’s depleted reserves.
She spun around and hugged him, shoving her face into his neck as she squeezed his torso, clinging for dear life. The tears that had failed to come earlier showed up in full force, clogging her throat. All the emotion she’d been holding back all day—or for years, really—poured out in an unstoppable torrent that racked her body.
Dylan’s arms wrapped around her, one hand coming up to cradle the back of her head as she sobbed against him. “Brooke,” he murmured, smoothing his palm over her hair. “Hey, it’s okay.”
Itwasokay, but only because he was holding her.
He kept holding her until she’d cried herself out, until her gasping breaths had quieted and her tears had slowed, and then he scooped her up and carried her into her bedroom. With loving gentleness, he laid her on the bed and curled his body around hers.
It was exactly what she needed.Hewas exactly what she needed.
