Tony and Awilda are ushering the last of the kids out the doors, but I can’t move; my feet are frozen in place. “Are you going to be okay?” Tony asks, but all I can do is nod in return. I have no idea what’s happening right now, but I have this feeling deep down in my bones that I’m going to be far from okay.
“The cops are here,” Colton announces as soon as the kids are gone. “They have a warrant to arrest you.”
“What?” Tucker’s face pulls into a mask of confusion. “What the hell for?” his voice raises into a shout.
“Fuck! Dad, this is bullshit, and you know it.” Zander’s voice booms out, startling me so much that I jump.
“Losing it isn’t going to help him. Let’s all just keep our heads a while, and we’ll get this fixed.” I watch Colton speak, but even I can tell he’s struggling to follow his own advice. The tension from all three of them bleeds into the air, suffocating me. “As soon as you can, you tell them you want a lawyer, and don’t say another word; you hear me?” He’s in Tucker’s face, hands on his shoulders as he tries to make sure Tucker really hears what’s being said.
The door slams open, and two men I’ve never seen before storm in, both wearing jeans and sports jackets. I can guess they’re detectives by the badges they have clipped to their belts. There’s a couple of uniformed cops behind them, both standing sentry at the door, hands hovering over their holstered guns.
“Give me a minute.” Colton’s face contorts into anger as he turns to stand in front of Tucker.
“You had your minute already, Donavan,” the bigger of the two detectives sneers. “Tucker Neal, I’m arresting you on suspicion of rape and assault.”
The room explodes in to a flurry of activity. Voices shout over each other. Tucker is grabbed and handcuffed. Colton has to hold Zander back as he tries to get past him to shout at the cops.
But all I see is Tucker. His beautiful, tortured face looks over at me, pain etched deep. His lips are moving, but I don’t hear a word over the sound of blood rushing in my ears.
Rape. That vile word spins through my mind on repeat.
Scalding hot tears course down my cheeks as Tucker is pushed forward. He plants his feet, the stubborn fool not letting them take him away.
“Brooke, I’m sorry. It’s not true. I swear—” His words are cut off as he’s pushed forward and marched toward the door.
The sound of the door slamming jars me out of the trance I’m in. My feet become unglued, and I run after him. My head spins with dizziness as I struggle to catch a full breath. I need to see him. They can’t take him. They’ve made a mistake. This whole thing has to be some kind of sick joke.
I’m too late. He’s already in the back of the car, his head bowed, eyes trained down toward his lap.
The detective climbs into the driver’s seat, and they take off immediately.
Tucker doesn’t look up. Not once.
I feel warmth at my side as Zander wraps an arm around me.
“Breathe. You need to calm down, Brooke,” he says, and I realize I’m sobbing uncontrollably. That awful sound that’s been ringing in my ears has been my cries all along. My body heaves as it struggles to get enough air, and the weight on my chest is crushing me.
I’m picked up and carried upstairs into one of the conference rooms. Zander drops me into a chair and right away presses my head forward so it’s between my knees.
“Get her some water,” he barks to whoever just walked in. It takes long minutes, but I finally start to feel like I can breathe a little. My body aches from head to toe, and I feel like I've been hit by a bus.
“Brooke.” Zander crouches down in front of me. “I swear to you, we’ll fix this. We’ll get him home.” Anger fires his words. All I can do is nod jerkily.
I need to get it together. Tucker is going to need me to stay strong.
Whatever happens, I’m going to be by his side.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
TUCKER
My fucking hands hurt.
Red welts itch from the cold metal digging into my flesh. The damn cuffs were so tight. Rubbing the sore skin, I try to ease some of the tension from how tightly I’ve clenched my fists all day.
The loud clunk of the metal door slamming shut vibrates through my shivering body. It’s so damn cold in this cell.
Fuck. Fucking fuck.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I try my best to push away the cold fear that still lingers on my skin. It's just another nightmare. The same one that’s woken me up every day for the last week.
You’re home, Tuck.
You’re home, not in a cell.
Rolling to my side, I find what I already expected to find. A cold spot where Brooke should be sleeping. Looking at the clock I see it’s just past four-am. Kicking the sheets off my legs, I go straight to where I know she’ll be.
I don’t knock. Pushing the door to the guest room open, I lean on the frame so I can watch her for a while. Her hair is tied up in a crazy tangle at the top of her head. She’s lost in thought, staring at the canvas she’s standing in front of. The brush in her paint-stained hand hovers; she’s poised, ready to add a stroke at any moment.
After an administration error kept me locked up for five days, part of me expected her to run. Who would have blamed her? It's not every day your boyfriend gets arrested and charged with rape and battery.
Just thinking those words has my heart sinking.
Shame.
Embarrassment.
Anger.
Fear.
I’ve felt every single emotion this last seven days. It’s like being on the worst possible rollercoaster that I just can’t get off.
The only spark of hope? My
