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“Brooke—”
“Yep. That’s the truth, Chase. The unvarnished shitshow! I’ve fucked you in my head since the moment I met you, and now I’ve fucked you in way more ways than the one I always fantasized about. How’s that for flawed?”
Lying to Chase about anything will forever be the biggest mistake of my life. Because he’s better than the book.
Chase Dawson, plain and simple, is the shit.
“I’d say it’s pretty fucked up,” he growls, making my chest squeeze. “For someone who claims to have written a book about a crush on me, you sure seem to have found some things to hate,” he spews, shaking the paper in his hand.
The craziest thing is that those “flaws” I wrote—well, I don’t even think they can be considered flaws because I find every single one of them endearing.
But that’s how it is when you love someone. You love all of them. Every single part.
Me, on the other hand… Well, my flaws are fucking disgusting. And right now, I have the pleasure of facing them head on through the pain in Chase’s eyes.
“No, Chase,” I try to explain. “No. I don’t think those things at all—”
“Oh, come on, Brooke. You wrote them, didn’t you?”
“Yes. I did, but—”
“But nothing, Brooke. They’re your words, your truths, and I think they tell me more than the rest of the time we’ve spent together. Time, I see now, was all some part of a sick game or something.”
Before the paper even hits the chair, I can feel his intention to leave. His intention to leave me standing here with nothing but my mistakes to keep me company.
“Chase, please. You’re getting this all wrong. Let me explain.”
“Explain? Now? After you’ve tricked me and lied to me all this time?” He shakes his head. “I don’t think so, Brooke. The time to explain was a while ago. Maybe the night I asked you if you ever felt like Clive and River. Before you spewed some bullshit about loving me.”
“But it’s not bullshit!” I yell, grabbing at his arm one last, futile time. “Chase, it’s not bullshit! I was scared! Scared of what you’d think, of what you’d say. I’m sorry! Please, let me apologize!”
He doesn’t stay, though, and he doesn’t listen. I watch as the door closes behind him, and Chase walks out of my life forever.
And I don’t even blame him. He may not think he knows me, but I sure as hell know him.
And he doesn’t deserve this.
He deserves someone with their life together, their head on straight, their heart on their sleeve.
One thing is for sure, though. No matter what, no matter how much time passes, I’ll miss the tiny taste I had of his perfection until the depths of forever.
Because God, I love him. Frankly, falling in love with him is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.
Chase will never be someone I can get over. He’ll always been the most important someone I lost. And he might’ve walked away from me, but my heart is still with him. And truthfully, I don’t think I can ever get it back.
When I reach the end of the email, my heart is in my throat, silently screaming over this terrible ending.
Because it is fucking terrible. There is no closure. There is only deep-rooted pain and sadness that I can certainly relate to.
Walking away from Brooke felt like the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life because I love her. And just like she said, falling in love with her was the easiest thing I’ve ever done. She’s endeared herself to my soul. She’s imprinted herself on my heart. She encompasses all the things I want in my future.
The love I feel for her isn’t a flash in the pan. It’s fucking forever, and it is very much inside me, always there, always present.
Fuck.
I lean back in my chair, hardly able to breathe as I put my hands to the back of my head and let out a yell that startles Dawn to her feet.
Truth be told, the hardest part about reading this email is the fact that I can’t pull Brooke into my arms and make it all okay. I can’t wipe the tears from her eyes. I can’t tell her I love her. I can’t do anything but sit here like a fucking schmuck.
All the steady-headed, career-minded, logical things I’d have considered in the past to be deal-breakers just…don’t matter anymore.
I’m in love with Brooke Baker. Her laugh, her smile, her words, both in person and on the page—she’s everything and then some.
Clive and River are the shit. I knew a good book when I read it. But they’re the shit because we are. Our chemistry, our humor, our personalities meshed together—it’s all a recipe for sensation.
And it’s time I get that back. Right fucking now.
Saturday, June 17th
