There’s a commotion near the door that catches my attention just before I get to my seat. All I can see is a blonde head dipped low and Rylee standing close by. I’m too far away to hear what’s being said, but for some reason my feet start moving in their direction anyway. I can’t seem to stop myself. I don’t seem to want to stop myself.
Unease creeps up my spine as I move closer. There’s something about that blonde hair, the slope of the shoulder, the delicate line of her arm.
There's something familiar about every inch of her, and it’s not because she’s one of the many who have warmed my bed over the years.
No.
I don’t need her to turn around for me to know exactly who it is that’s standing within touching distance for the first time in ten years.
I don’t need to see her face.
Turn around, Tucker. Walk the fuck away because there is nothing good that can come of seeing her again.
“I'm fine. I just really need to go.” God. Just the sound of her soft, velvet voice is like a red-hot poker straight through my gut. Longing fills the gaping hole it leaves behind. But somehow, her soft words wrap around me like a damned comfort blanket. How many nights have I been woken up by that voice haunting me in my dreams?
“Let her go, Rylee. Running away is what she does best. Isn’t that right, Brooke?” Fuck. I’m furious at the pain I hear in my own voice. I have to force the words out because the fucked-up thing is I don’t mean them. I don’t want Rylee to let her go. I want to drag her out of here myself to ask her why? Why she left me all those years ago? How come she was able to walk away so easily, leaving me wondering where it all went so wrong?
She doesn’t turn to look at me, but Rylee does.
“Tucker?” She stares at me, confusion on her face. “What do you-”
“It’s fine, Rylee. I’ll give you a call in a few days. Thank you for a wonderful evening,” Brooke all but whispers. I can hear the tears in her voice, but I don’t say anything as she scurries away, never once stopping to look back at me as she pushes past people in her rush to leave.
It doesn’t surprise me that she didn’t even look my way, but it still stings like a bitch. Ignoring Rylee’s questions, I follow Brooke outside. Her hurried steps clatter through the deserted foyer. She bursts through the doors, no longer caring about keeping up the façade she had up inside.
I stop following when I see the cab waiting outside. I stop following, but I don’t stop watching. She’s changed. It’s been a long time since I saw her last, and she’s definitely not the same little girl she was at eighteen. She leans in, asking the driver something, and I allow myself one last look at her and the woman she grew up to be.
She moves to open the door, and I know she feels me watching. She uses her thick hair as a guard to shield against my hard stare. She doesn’t look up, not once, but my eyes never leave her. The cab is almost out of sight when she finally looks through the window, and I get the first good look at the woman who broke my heart all those years ago.
I keep watching until the lights of the cab have long since faded into the distance. The last thing I want to do is go back into the party, my head is spinning with everything that has just happened. It takes effort, but I somehow manage to drag myself away from the door. Ignoring the enquiring stares from everyone that just witnessed whatever the hell that was with Brooke, I make my way back to Zander, finding him seated at a table with his parents.
“Why is my mom looking at you like she wants to kill you?” Zander asks, as I drop into the vacant seat next to him. I throw back the glass of bourbon the waiter just dropped off before answering.
“I have no idea,” I lie. I should have left right after Brooke. There’s no point sitting here when I'm oblivious to everything that’s happening around me, but I can’t face it. I can’t face being at home with nothing but my thoughts. No, staying here and getting blackout drunk seems like a much better idea.
“Nothing to do with the hot blonde from earlier then?” he tries to goad a reaction out of me, and I have to bite my damn tongue to stop myself from responding. “You can talk to me; you know that, right?”
“Appreciate the concern, man, but I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I cut him off, then push my chair out and walk away. I don’t stop to say goodbye to anyone, my head too full of shit to make small talk.
I make sure to drop off a large donation before leaving. I’ll call Rylee tomorrow to apologize. Right now, I just need to get out of here. Pulling my phone out, I scroll though the contacts, looking for someone to help me forget this night ever happened.
CHAPTER FIVE
TUCKER
“I’m going to marry you one day, Tucker Neal.”
The memory slowly fades as I open my eyes, but it takes me a second to realize it was a dream. Brooke isn’t here in this bed with me. She’s not curled up at my side as we lay in the back of my shitty old truck, gazing at the stars.
Scrubbing my hands down my face, I contemplate turning over and going back to sleep for the rest of the day. It’s only the thought of more dreams about Brooke that stops me. My head thumps
