Chapter 5

brOOKE

"Wait right there, missy!"

I sigh as my father's voice dominates through the house that I try to creep into. I place my bag on the ground, take my jacket off, and place it over the banister. I walk into the living room, where I find my parents sitting on the couch. The first thing my dad does is get up and pull me into a tight hug.

"Are you doing okay, Angel?" I nod softly, burying myself in his embrace.

"I am now," I whisper softly.

"Good." He pulls away, guiding me to the couch and sitting beside me. "I'm glad your home, but I never want you disappearing for that long again with only one call. You worried your mother." I look up and make eye contact with her.

"I'm sorry, Mom." She nods, walking over and sitting on the other side of me before pulling me into a hug. "It's okay, sweetie, I understand you needed time. I still can't believe he's gone." Her voice breaks. "He was like a son to us." My dad reaches over to her, resting his hand on her knee as he tries to comfort her too.

"Mary didn't take visitors for days. That poor woman, knowing her son was murdered like that. If anything happened to you, Brooke…I couldn't take it."

"Nothing will happen to me, Mom. I promise…what happened to Nate… I…" I can't find the words to even finish that sentence. Talking about Nate hurts too much.

"You know, Angel." My dad pushes my hair back. "We thought you two would end up together, the way he looked at you…" he trails off and before I know it, I'm breaking down telling him everything Nate said to me at the beach, how he confessed his love, how we tried, and it didn't work. The awful things he said to me in his room, but I stop before going any further, leaving out Chase and that night. Harper told everyone I wasn't there, so I can't say how he took that bullet that was meant for me.

"Oh, baby…" Mom wipes the tears from my eyes. "That boy would have forgiven you, Brooke, without a doubt. He thought the world of you. There's no way he wouldn't have. You've been best friends since you were kids, and his heart wasn't made for hate." I exhale shakily, standing up.

"I, uh, want to shower, I've been on the road for a while, and Jax is having a party tonight. I want to go and just kinda forget everything tonight… I'm going to stay at Harper's if that's okay?"

My dad nods. "Of course, she probably needs you, seeing that…I'm guessing her parents aren't around again for her."

I shrug. My parents know how little Harper's parents care. They didn't even come back for the funeral to support their daughter. I can't even look at them right now. My eyes would betray me because my parents knew Harper was there, that she saw Nate die. One look at me right now and they would know I was too. I walk off and head upstairs as I hear my mom say, "Does she seem different to you?"

"She lost her best friend at nineteen, Lisa. Of course, she's going to be different—she just needs time, that's all."

I roll my eyes as I head up to the room. They say time heals all wounds but it's a lie. Time can't heal this void I feel. My heart has a hole in it, and nothing will fill it up right now. I throw my bag on the floor before wandering through my room. It seems smaller, different, like I've outgrown it somehow. I look around, and my eyes land on the picture board on my wall. I slowly walk over to it, pulling the pictures from their clips.

Nate and me.

Harper and Nate.

Chase and the guys.

Chase and me.

They all seem like they were taken from someone else's life. We all look so happy in them. I walk over to my bed, flicking through the photos. I feel numb as I look at them. I recognize the locations, the actions in the pictures, the people—yet I feel so far removed from them. I land on one of the six of us. It was taken at Nate's house one summer. We were all having a pool day, and the picture perfectly captures the happiness we all felt then. Chase and Nate are laughing in the image. I can almost hear it because it was so rare for them two to get along…but it slips away just as I feel myself get a grasp on it.

I tear the image in two and again and again until it's only pieces, doing the same to all my photos, ripping them until they're unrecognizable before throwing them in my miniature trash can. I grab a teddy that Chase won for me at a fair, throwing that in there, along with mementos that he brought me over the years. A flower he picked for me at the lake that I had dried goes in, and a snow globe smashes as it lands in the metal can. I rip the postcards he sent me when he went abroad from the wall, throwing them all in before I open my desk drawer, rooting through it before I find what I'm looking for.

I walk outside calmly to my backyard and strike a match. I look at the flame burning for a second. Watching it burn the wood, the light dancing in front of me, the heat of it touching my skin before I throw it in the can, setting it all ablaze. I watch the fire slowly rage, destroying any evidence of happier times.

It was all a lie.

Everything.

My entire world was tainted by the lies; they were always going to destroy us, and now I'll burn them all the way. I stand there just watching it blaze, burning everything to ashes. I don't feel anything as I watch it burn, and I wonder how truly broken I am inside.

I leave the yard, walking into my ensuite before taking a shower so hot it scolds my skin. I need the heat to feel. It's the only time I don't feel the cold, the numbness, the ever-consuming black hole. Pressing my forehead against the cool tiles, I try to breathe through the feeling that I betrayed my best friend. I blame Chase and Asher and Jax but mostly I blame me. If I hadn't left his room like that, if I hadn't gone to the bar with Chase, then maybe he would still be here. I watch the soap foam as I massage it into my skin as if that will ever truly make me clean. I have a stain on my soul because I killed my best friend.

Once I'm done trying to poorly convince myself otherwise, I wrap my towel around me before I step onto the warm tiles when I hear something. There's someone in my room, and I doubt it's my parents. I look around for a weapon, anything to defend myself, but all I can find is a bottle of hairspray. Okay, Brooke, spray in the eyes and run. My fingers are on the handle of the bathroom door before I throw it open and run at my would-be attacker, the can in front of me. It's knocked from my hand, and I go to scream, but a hand quickly covers my mouth.

"Stop, baby girl. It's me, it's me, okay?" I look up, seeing the face of the man that still makes my heartbeat faster. I hate how my body betrays me; I need to hate him for Nate. His hand slowly slips from my mouth, but he doesn't let go of my back, keeping me close to him.

"What are you doing here?" I fight, my head tilting up as I try to push away from him. He grabs my hands, pinning me against him.

"Don't fight me, Brooke. Just let me hold you." His head dips into the crook of my neck, breathing me in as I feel his heart pounding, his chest heaving. "Fuck, I've missed you, I was scared out of my mind when I realized what you were doing."

He picks me up, and my legs automatically wrap around his waist as he walks me to the bed and lays me down on it. He yanks my arms up, pinning them above my head. "I've never been scared before, not once. You have such power over me, Princess. You need to start behaving yourself."

I buck myself to fight back, not being able to talk at this moment. "No," he growls. "Stop being my bratty girl for one second and just fucking let me look at you." He looks deep into my eyes as his free hand caresses my cheek, running down my face and neck. Passing its way down the towel that's shielding me from him till he hits my thigh, holding it up around him. My skin is on fire for him, the man who turned my love into hate.

"I missed you, Princess. Did you miss me?"

I shake my head, knowing if I open my mouth right now, it will betray me with a moan.

"Now, now, Brookie, don't lie to me. I know you ached for me the way I did you. One taste wasn't enough for either of us, and we both know it."

"That's not true," I whisper weakly, cursing my body for reacting to him.

"No?"

His hand slips from my thigh, pushing my legs apart as his fingers find my aching pussy, and God, how my pussy responds to his touch. Fucking traitor. His fingers glide through my lips, finding my throbbing clit as he rubs his forefinger over it.

"Then why are you so wet for me, my little brat? Why is your body trembling under my touch? Why are you biting your lip to stop yourself from moaning?"

"Any girl would respond to a guy touching her like this. It doesn't mean I want it." He slips a digit inside of my pussy, and fuck, I see stars. I know it's not true, I want him, I need him, but I can't have him, not anymore. My voice betrays my mind as I moan rather loudly as he slips another finger in, curling them in a come-hither motion against my G-spot.

"Now we both know that's not true—you may think you hate me, and maybe you do right now, but your body is mine, Brooke. And trust me when I say the next time I get my hands on you, you're going to beg me for more, beg me to fuck you the way you crave."

"Next time?" I whimper, wondering what he means. What about now?

He nods softly, pulling his fingers swiftly from me, bringing them to his lips as he sucks my juices from them. His fingers move from his mouth with a loud pop as he smirks at me.

"I'm not fucking you now, Brooke. I want you to want it because you want me, not because I'm taking care of your needs."

"I'll never want it. You killed Nate. You're the reason he's dead. I could never really want you again."

His face falls, a pleading innocence in his eyes as his voice cracks. "I didn't kill my brother, Brooke." He sits up, pulling himself from me, his back resting against the wall. "Get dressed," he says coldly, that mask slipping over him the way I got used to over the summer.

I pull myself from my bed, pulling the towel righter around me. "Get out," I grit between my teeth.

He nods, getting off the bed. "Behave yourself at the party, Princess. You remember our deal from the porch—any man touches you, I break something."

I close my eyes, stepping back away from him. "Get out," I say again, but as I open my eyes, he's gone. Part of me hates him, and I'm not sure if it's because of Nate or because he left just now, leaving me alone.