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I waited for her to say “Give me five minutes a
nd I’ll drive you to your brother’s house myself,” in the Jeep Cherokee that probably had a good five years on me.
She didn’t, though. Instead she rose from her chair and came around the table to my side. She held out her hand to me.
I took it. How could I not? She was handing me a lifeline, and I’d fucking hold on to it.
“I don’t want you to go, Caleb. I’d like you to stay and hear the rest of my story. I think you should know everything about me, and then you can evaluate if your feelings are still the same.” She tugged me up from my chair. “You’re right. It’s not fair of me to tell you what you can feel for another person. I am sorry if I hurt you when I said you couldn’t possibly feel more for me. I don’t want to hurt you, Caleb. Never that.”
I let her lead me up the stairs to her bedroom where I’d stowed my bag earlier when she gave me the grand tour of her cottage.
She peeled off her shirt first. Then her leggings. The bra came off next and my dick started throbbing. I was fully erect when the panties were dropped to the floor. I watched her reveal herself to me physically and wished she could do the same on an emotional level. Why is it we always crave what we don’t have?
She came to me and I let her help me take off my clothes, piece by piece, until I was as naked as her.
“Do you know how easy it would be for me to fall in love with you, Caleb?”
“No.” I shook my head.
“It would take no effort at all, but that doesn’t mean it’s a good idea—for me, or for you.”
So that door wasn’t completely closed. Good to know. “What do you want from me, Brooke?”
She smiled. “I want you to make love to me in my bed, and then I’ll tell you the rest of my story. After that you can decide if you still want me.”
Turnabout is fair play, baby. “I agree, but only if we switch it around. You tell me first, and then we make love. And for the record, I’ve already decided.”
Her face fell and her eyes narrowed.
“I know what you’re doing. You think that whatever you have to tell me will make me stop wanting to be with you; I’ll leave, and you’ll be vindicated of your fucking absurd notion that you are unworthy to be loved by me.”
“It will,” she said.
“Well, baby, you’re just going to have to trust me then and see what happens.” I smiled this time. “Let’s get into the bed, shall we?”
SO into her bed we were going. Buck-ass naked, but not to fuck.
Both of us tense, unsure of how we fit into the other’s life. I knew where I wanted her in mine, but she seemed pretty adamant about where I could be in hers. Sex was okay, but love wasn’t, apparently. How was it possible to find the one woman on earth I needed to make life bearable, only to have her believing I shouldn’t love her because she wasn’t worthy?
My heart was being fucked from all directions.
I held out my arms to her and embraced her as she fell into them, loving how her soft skin melted into mine when our bodies aligned. I tugged her down into bed, tucked the sheets and blankets that smelled of her around us, and waited . . .
She talked and I listened. Her heart had been broken before, and mine was being broken now as she told me her story.
“I was truly born on the wrong side of the tracks as you say in America. The wrong side of the sheets is what it was called back home. My mother went to London for a semester abroad when she was in college. She met my father, Michael Harvey, and very quickly fell madly in love. She also fell pregnant with me. But my father was already married and had a family. My mother and I were his secret. He loved us and was a steady part of our lives, but we would always be the shameful secret that must be hidden away because that’s just how it was. He was an MP, a Member of Parliament, and I never took his name. That is why my last name is Casterley like my nan. Dad had money, and he kept us well looked after, which was fine when he was alive—but there was no provision for us when he died. The one exception was my university education, because he’d set it up when I was born in my birth name. It was the one thing his sons couldn’t take, because legally it was mine. I have two half brothers I’ve never met in person.
“My parents died while they were on holiday together, still very much in love as they had always been. It was fast and it was final, and before I could really process my shock, I was sent here to my nan, who is my only living family on my mum’s side. It was hard at first, but I did settle in, and came to love living on the island. I finished high school here, and managed to find my place in a strange new world. When it was time for university, I went to Suffolk because it was close to home, and my nan. I excelled in my field of study, and my college years were happy. I couldn’t have wanted or needed anything different in the time in my life before I met Marcus. I was close to finishing up university and hoping to work in one of the prestigious firms in the Boston designer loop after graduation.
“My friend Zoe, who was also my roommate at the time, went with me to a bar where we had far too many tequila shots and not enough common sense to fill a thimble between us. Marcus was there that night and he took a liking to me. I am sure he also put something in my drink because I don’t remember going home with him. I was a virgin before I met Marcus. He was very attentive at first, and I don’t even know why. He was a law student about to take the bar exam and eight years older than me. So, without much of an idea of how or why, I was suddenly with this man who’d become obsessed with me literally overnight. He just inserted himself into my life, and I couldn’t escape him, because I was too young, and too naïve, to even be aware of the risk until it was too late.
“He got me pregnant and then demanded I marry him. I never should have agreed, but given my mum’s history, I did it for the baby’s sake. He moved us to California the minute classes ended. I didn’t even get to go through graduation ceremonies. Los Angeles is where his family lived, and that’s when my nightmare really began. Marcus had a mental illness I am certain, and his erratic behavior just grew worse as my pregnancy advanced. He would get angry at the most insignificant things and fly into a rage, terrorizing anyone within range.
“His family also ran some criminal enterprises of smuggling guns and other black-market items. They used their storage rental units as a front for the real business of smuggling I think. I tried to stay out of their way as much as possible, but it wasn’t always easy for me to do that, because he used drugs to manipulate and control me. Prescription painkillers—I don’t even know what drugs he gave me, just that they helped block out the nightmare that was my life. Which was living with a sociopathic criminal and expecting his child. I didn’t want to have a baby. I was only twenty-two years old, just starting out, with so many hopes—only to find myself pregnant, in an abusive relationship, and addicted to drugs.
“Then the accident happened and he died. I was in a coma for three weeks before I woke up. Once my head was clear of the drugs, I knew I could get help and escape for good. I still worry that Marcus’s dad will show up on my doorstep someday and try to make me go back to California, just to punish me for living instead of his son. Or to make sure I never talk to the police about them. I don’t really know if they would try to hurt me or not, but I don’t want to take the chance, either, so living on the island has its benefits, being so much more secluded.
“When I notified the hospital authorities I was in an abusive family situation, they quietly helped me into a women’s shelter in San Diego. That shelter saved my life, because it was mostly a place of peace. I needed sanctuary after a year of mayhem and chaos. I lived there for six months, learning self-defense and how to be strong. It took my near-death to wake me up so I could have a second chance at living. In total I was away for eighteen months, but like I told you before, having a purpose has made all the difference in helping me to move forward. When Nan needed me, it was time for me to make my way home to Boston, and so here I am.”
