“I’ll have to figure out a way to make peace with not knowing.” Walker rocks his jaw from side to side, lifting one hand to scrub at his cheek through the short hair of his cropped beard. “I don’t know how in the hell I’ll accomplish that, considering I’ve been trying to make peace with it for years, but I’m not really going to have a choice.”
“I know someone if you think talking about it would help.” I feel like I’m becoming the therapy fairy. Going around bestowing the gift of unpacking trauma and painful emotions on everyone around me.
Walker’s brows lift. “If you’re trying to set me up with a woman, you can?—”
“What? No.” I bark out a laugh. “Do I look like our mother?” I pause, thinking over the way the last few months have unfolded. “You might want to watch out for Titus, though. I think he could be in cahoots with her.” My mother is the one who brought Brooke to Willow Bend, but Titus certainly sealed the deal when he hired her to work at McKinley. “I was talking about therapy.”
Walker starts to laugh, his smile slipping quickly when I don’t follow along. “Are you serious?”
“Of course I’m serious.” I take a step back, leaning againstthe counter behind me. “Do you think I would’ve survived the past ten years without working through my shit?”
Walker’s eyes drop to his coffee as he shakes his head with a single jerking motion. “Probably not well.”
We’re clearly not talking about me anymore, but I’m not equipped to dig into my cousin’s issues. Not just because I don’t fully know the extent of them, but because my specialty is cars. Not middle-aged men who pretend they don’t have feelings.
“Let’s just hope we find something in their archives.” And that finding out what happened to his mother—primarily, who is really responsible for her death—doesn’t make everything worse.
Because that’s another—very real—possibility. It’s also another thing I’m not pointing out.
Walker downs the last of his coffee and rises from his chair. “I should go get ready. Titus will probably be calling soon, and I don’t want to be the last one who shows up.”
I grin. “It’s gonna be weird having little kids running around here.”
Walker glances toward the dining room where Brooke is assembling the gifts she helped me choose to take to Mariah. His eyes come back my way as he reaches out to grab my shoulder. “I hope one day soon it’s your kids running around here. You deserve to have the family you’ve always wanted.”
I watch as he turns and lets himself out the door, emotion tightening my throat. I tried so hard to shield my family from the struggles I faced. I didn’t want them to know just how much I wanted my life to look different.
It seems I might not have been as successful as I thought.
“Is he right?” Brooke’s voice is soft. “That you’ve always wanted a family?”
It’s not a conversation we’ve had. There hasn’t been time. Or room. Or the need.
“I’ve always wantedyou.” I look her in the eyes as I tell her the full truth. “But I’m not going to claim I won’t be greedy enough to take anything you’re willing to give me.”
I know I didn’t always make my views or feelings toward my family clear to her. But, at the end of the day, I would love to build a version of what my parents have. I don’t know if Brooke feels the same. Seeing a family unit where people might give each other shit, but the love is always there, is new to her. Foreign.
Probably a little scary.
Her steps are slow as she comes my way. “I don’t know what I’m capable of giving you.” She stops in front of me, pinching her lower lip between her teeth as her toes wiggle against the hardwood. “I don’t know if I want to be a mom. I have so many bad feelings tied to motherhood, and I don’t want to push those off onto my kids.”
“I understand.” And I do. “The choice is always yours. I would never?—”
“But maybe we could start by getting married, and see what happens after that.” Her words rush out quickly, and as soon as they're free, she presses her lips together, looking nervous. Uncertain.
Hopeful.
And only one of those is applicable.
“Brooklyn Marie.” I shake my head, a little surprised she doesn’t already get it. “I would have married you the minute I found you standing in my mother’s gift wrap room.” I step close. “I would have married you right there in your office on your first day of work.” I reach up, curving one hand against her cheek. “I would have married you when you were coughingall over my couch with a crusty nose.” I wrap my arm around her waist, pulling her against me. “I would have married you the day you came into my office and let me?—”
She reaches up, pressing her fingers over my lips. “I get it.”
I shake my head, because I don’t know that she does.
And maybe she should.
Taking her hand in mine, I head for the garage, going straight to the SUV she’s been driving for months. Opening the door, I deposit Brooke into the seat and point at the center console. “Open that and look inside.”
