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“No! Fucking go! Now!”
After a moment of staring at her, I did just that. I left.
CHAPTER22
BROOKLYN
NOW…
Standing at my car outside the Owens building, we stood in silence, angry faces unmoving as my truck’s door held steady as a barrier. My chest was heaving, his nostrils flared, and yet, in that moment, I don’t think I’d ever loved him more, which pissed me all the way off.
He was the first to break eye contact. “Brooklyn Skye…” he muttered, shaking his head.
In response, I shut the door and was in his face in seconds, up on my toes with my mouth on his. He didn’t move at first, still as a statue, mouth closed until it wasn’t. All at once, his hands were on my arms and sliding up to the sides of my face as he turned his head deepening the kiss. My own hands shook as I reached up to touch his smooth head.
The night air was cool but the immediate space around us was sweltering. My chest was tight, my heart thumping around erratically. My mind was muddled with lust and love for this man, with a little confusion and uncertainty in the mix. What was I doing? What good could come of this? I was too damn old to be used by a man with commitment issues again. I had a whole child to consider with every decision I made.
He was the one to break our contact, his mouth leaving mine abruptly. My eyes popped open to find him staring at me. I missed the connection but was glad for the opportunity to think.
“How does it move if it’s not real?” Fell out of my mouth on its own.
Creases formed in his forehead as he said, “What?”
“The prosthetic eye.”
“Oh, uh…muscles move our eyes. I still have those muscles and the fake eye was made to adhere to them so there’s some motion. Not much though.”
“I see. It’s amazing.”
“Yeah, it cost enough. Brooklyn, I—”
“Vann, I need to go. This was…”
“A mistake? Is that what you think because I don’t. I think this is so right and IknowI mean it when I say I love you.”
Dropping my eyes, I admitted, “So do I, but…can we talk about this later? I’m tired, not thinking clearly, and…”
“Can I have your number, at least?”
I nodded, exchanged numbers with him, and left.
VANN
Me:Good morning, Brooklyn Skye
Her:Good morning, Vann.
Me:I know the bonfire wasn’t on the group’s agenda, but I’m planning on going. Will you meet me there so we can talk?
Her:Talk about what?
Me:The past. The present. Us.
She didn’t immediately reply, and I had to tell myself not to panic. It was early. She was probably getting ready for work. As reasonable as it was to give her more than three seconds to respond, I still felt anxiety slowly rising inside me.
Her response came a couple minutes later as simultaneously, a knock sounded at my bedroom door.
I yelled, “Come in!” as I read her message:Okay.
