“Sounds great.” My mom says it loud, the words sounding sweet as pie. But the look she’s giving me is as close to a scowl as she could get without curling her lip. Lowering her voice, she leans close as we reach the door. “You better be careful with her. She’s been through more than you would ever believe.”
My mother’s threat confirms my suspicions that something awful brought Brooke back to me. I know at some point I’ll find out what happened, but I think the longer it takes, the better off everyone will be.
Including the fucker I’m fairly confident is responsible for the caution my beautiful, brave, brazen Brooke now wears like armor.
12
Brooke
I’m pretty sure Deidre is full of shit.
We’ve been friends for a long time. If her husband had a lung issue, I would have heard about it way before now.
I still don’t blame her for not wanting me to come cootie up her mansion. This flu has been no freaking joke, and she is so busy all the time. The last thing she needs is to be out of commission.
Or on television with a crusty nose and glassy eyes.
If I had the money, or even a credit card, I’d offer to go to a hotel. But I’m still a week away from my first check, plus there aren’t many places that would let me bring Bruno along.
When Tobias returns from walking his mother to the door, I stand, rolling right into an apology, trying to head off any upset he might be feeling at his mother saddling him with me. “I’m really sorry. I can find somewhere else to go. I didn’t mean to?—”
“No.” The word is sharp and a little loud. Loud enough I react automatically, pulling the stool between us, creatinga barrier.
I don’t mean to do it. I’ve worked so hard to hide what I’ve become.
What I allowed someone to make me.
Tobias stops, going completely still except for the movement of his eyes as they shift between the stool and me. My heart is in my throat, and the delicious breakfast he made me is threatening to exit the premises. My whole body is shaking, and I can’t move. I’m stuck.
In so many ways.
I know Tobias would never hurt me. Not physically. But that knowledge isn’t changing anything right now, and I don’t know why.
“Slow breaths.” Tobias's voice is low and steady. Calm. “Breathe with me.” He loudly inhales, taking a cautious step in my direction as he blows the air free of his lungs.
I want to do what he’s asking. I need to stop the rapid rise and fall of my chest. I just can’t.
“It’s okay.” He reaches out, one hand coming to carefully unwind my fingers from where they're gripping the back of the stool. “Everything is going to be okay now.”
It sounds so good. That everything will just be fine again. My life can go back to what it was before Matt. Before I allowed him to slowly and systematically steal everything from me.
But I don’t think that’s possible.
Tobias manages to separate me from his furniture, then slowly wraps both arms around me, pulling me close. He doesn’t say anything else, just holds me. I don’t know for how long, and I don’t care. Because for the first time in my whole life I feel safe. Protected.
My parents never made me feel like this. Growing up, the power was regularly shut off. There was never enoughfood in the fridge. All my clothes were hand-me-downs from my cousins or purchased from discount stores. School fees regularly went unpaid, and there was never money in my lunch account.
Not because the money didn’t exist, they just chose to spend it on things they cared about. Slots at the casino, visits to the salon, dinners with their friends. My parents are, and have always been, all about the show. Making people think they’re more than they are. That’s why they liked Matt. He had enough money they could put on one hell of a performance.
Tobias slowly strokes up and down my back, not rushing me out of the embrace, but giving me enough room I can pull away if I want. It’s something he keeps doing. Giving me room even when we're right next to each other. Space even when I’m in his house, eating his food.
Sleeping in his bed.
And that reminder is enough to chase away the last of what I think might have been a panic attack.
Swiping at my messy hair, I step back, unable to look at the man in front of me. Not because he just saw what maybe could be classified as a meltdown. That was bad enough.
But because before that even had a chance to happen, he all but caught me masturbatingin his bed.
