Coming Home (Pierpoint View #1)

Chapter Ten - Brooks

CHAPTER TEN

Brooks

I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. We were having a nice time. She’s cute, has a good sense of humor, we were getting along, but now, Summer is crying into my chest and my arms are wrapped tightly around her at the bottom of the stairs.

This is one of the main reasons why I never ventured into relationships. I hate it when girl’s cry, I end up freezing and repeating the same words over and over again and hope that it helps in some kind of way.

I’m a one night kind of guy and at least I admit that, getting myself into messes like this is not what I ever wanted to sign up for.

Summer’s crying has turned into hiccups and sniffles and she’s cozied herself up more into my chest and it would be cute if it weren’t for the fact my shirt is now wetter than when I picked her up that night in the pouring rain and my shoulder is getting sore from keeping it raised in the same position for so long.

“How about we get you something to drink?” I murmur against her hair, not willing to speak any louder for fear I trigger any more crying .

I don’t know what happened and I really shouldn’t care… but what the fuck was that?

I feel her nod against my chest, take a deep breath and turn without sparing one glance at me.

I follow her up the stairs and through the door and as I step over the threshold, a sweet crisp scent fills my nose; it’s like vanilla but not the sickly sweet perfumes my sister would use in high school but like an adult vanilla scent? I don’t know but it matches her perfectly I think.

The last rays of the sun are filtering through the sheer curtains at the far end of the hall, highlighting Summer in a golden hue. I can admit she still looks beautiful even though I’ve never seen someone cry as hard as she just did.

She notices me looking at her, and without meeting my eyes, says, “I’ll be back in a sec, make yourself at home.” And heads into the first door on the left.

It feels strange to be in her apartment for the first time by myself so I clean up downstairs, lock the front door to the store and bring the left over pizza upstairs to her kitchen.

I search around the kitchen to find some glasses to pour her a glass of water, leaning back on the island in the middle of the kitchen and wait for her to come out of what I assume is the bathroom.

I look around the space while I wait, I have nothing better do, I even left my phone downstairs, completely forgetting about it. I vaguely wonder how many calls I’m going to miss from my agent who would definitely not be in favor of this whole situation. It doesn’t exactly feed in to my bachelor stereotype.

Her apartment is nice, very her, not that I know her that well but from what I do know, she fits the place well. There’s a few books on the window ledge, all pastel colored with cartoon people on the front, I’m assuming they’re like the silly little romance books Lennon also reads.

My attention turns to the fireplace and I wonder if she can even light that thing in here. Surely thats a fire hazard.

Before I can look around any further, I hear a door unlock and only have to wait a few seconds before I see her appear in the doorway to the living room.

She’s undone her hair, leaving the wavy lengths to frame her freshly washed face, the splotch of paint on her forehead from painting something before I got here, gone, along with any trace of makeup. She’s also changed into a pair of sweats and a light pink sweatshirt that drowns her body.

She’s still beautiful despite the slightly swollen eyes from all the crying but I must admit it has made her eyes a vibrant blue colour that is hard to come by naturally, not gray like I once thought they were.

“Here.” I pick up the glass and extend it to her, waiting for her to come to me. I need her to make the moves here, I don’t know what triggered whatever the hell that was, but it’s safe to assume that letting her to take the lead is the best choice here.

“Thanks,” she says, her voice weak.

She shuffles slowly over to me, taking the glass from me, making sure not to graze her fingers over mine as she does.

She takes delicate sips while I watch, which should be creepy but she doesn’t seem perturbed by it, so I carry on, studying her.

I watch as she places the glass down next to me.

“Look—”

“I’m sorry—”

We both speak at the same time and the corners of her lips tug upwards ever so slightly.

“I should go first,” she says, fiddling with the cuffs of her sweatshirt. She looks behind her into the living room and then back to me, “Do you think we can sit?”

I nod. “Sure.” I gesture for her to go ahead of me, and I follow suit.

Before sitting, she turns on a lamp in the corner of the room now that the last of the day’s light is disappearing. She sits in the corner of the couch, pulling her knees up to her chest and I sit on the opposite side, leaning my bad leg on the coffee table. She watches me do it and I slowly pull it away.

“No, no, it’s okay, you can keep your leg there.”

“Are you sure?” I ask, continuing to remove it.

“No!” Her hand comes out as if to stop me but lingers just in front of her, “It’s really fine, and its the least I can do,” she finishes, so I rest my leg back, and the pressure it relieves is immense, and I lean my head back and close my eyes at the sweet relief, suppressing a groan.

“I’m sorry,” she says, bringing my gaze back to her. There’s still no eye contact from her but at least she’s looking at me, thats a start. Her eyes bounce around my body, mainly the injured parts.

I run a hand through my hair and her eyes catch the movement, lingering on the bend of my arm and it makes me slightly happy inside. I didn’t miss the way she was looking at me earlier, I know I have an effect on her, as I do most woman I come across but I’m glad that admiration is still there and whatever just happened didn’t completely ruin whatever vibe we had before.

I feel the need to comfort her, maybe take her hand in mine, but I shove that feeling straight back down and opt for words instead. “Thats okay, you don’t need to apologize, I should be the one to apologize,” she starts shaking her head, “ I mean it, I’m sorry. I don’t know what happened, and you don’t need to tell me—”

“I should tell you. It’s only fair to you after that,” she interrupts.

Now it’s my turn to shake my head. “I promise you, you do not owe me an explanation.”

I mean, an explanation would be fantastic, if only so I can avoid that reaction again, but I won’t press it and she really doesn’t owe me anything. I mean until today, the only other interaction we’d had was the 10 minute drive into town nearly a month ago. Safe to say she was right, we’re not exactly friends, acquaintances at best, even if we were making progress earlier.

Summer changes position to crossed legs, and links her hands together and places them on top.

“If this is something you really want though, then how about just the cliffs notes?” I suggest, my morbid fascination winning, my body itching to find out what made her have that kind of reaction.

She looks me in the eye for the first time. “Okay,” she says, taking a deep breath, nodding, “long story short, I guess, when I was 19 I met a guy, he was attractive, rich and well established in his career. He was great at first… then he started to isolate me from my family, friends, everyone around me. He would manipulate me, become… abusive and I didn’t realize it at the time. Eventually I got out, I’m not sure the specifics, I just know that someone he was doing business with came for drinks one night, they got in an argument and the next thing I know, not even a week later, I’m out of there, the police came and my ex offered me a settlement to keep quiet about what happened.”

“Did you refuse? Is he in prison?”

She starts shaking her head. “No, not in prison,” she says, shrugging one shoulder. “he’s got friends in high places. I took the settlement, I would’ve been tied up in court for who knows how long and I just wanted out.”

“That’s bullshit,” I exclaim. I’m not sure how things work over in England but even I know he deserves a hell of a lot more than that.

“I just wanted to put it behind me. It’s not like I got nothing out of it. The money I got, I never wanted to use, even though I took it, it kind of feels like another way for him to have a hold over me, but I used the money to build the cafe and that would have been something he never would have allowed me to do. So, in a way, it’s like my own kind of payback.” She shrugs. “What happened just now hadn’t happened since I first left my ex and I don’t usually burst out crying, so I’m sorry. It’s nothing you did either in case you were wondering.”

“It’s okay, I didn’t take it that way.”

“Anyway, those were the cliffs notes and I guess he’s the reason I’m here, the reason I managed to start a new life, I should be thankful…” She trails off, a frown on her face.

“Don’t ever thank that man,” I say, my voice hard.

I’ve been furious before, sure, but the anger simmering inside me right now is a new one. I imagine if it were Lennon in her place, with the way Lennon’s life is going it’s not an impossibility and now I’m more than furious. There would be no way that guy would be getting away with treating my baby sister like that.

She’s sat there, looking as though she’s talking about what she did last Sunday and not a major traumatic event in her life.

“Thank you for telling me,” I say, resting my arm along the back of the couch, feeling the need to comfort her again but not knowing how to. And I’m trying to reign in my anger but it’s a hard situation to navigate for me. She obviously seems to have recovered at least somewhat from her experience but it seems like some things can still be triggering for her, so I guess I’ll take my cues from her.

She gives me a soft smile and slowly reaches across the space and lays a hand delicately over my arm. “Thank you for listening. You’re the first person I’ve really told here.”

“You haven’t told Alex yet?” I ask, shocked. Those two are joined at the hip these days.

She shakes her head and I feel privileged that I’m the first person she’s told, I guess she did just bawl her eyes out into my chest, but still.

My stomach chooses this moment to growl, breaking up the moment.

“We should finish the pizza, huh?” She asks. I try to catch her eye to see how she feels about me staying any longer but she’s avoiding my gaze again. She’s probably trying to figure it out herself right now.

“There’s no pressure,” I say, “I can go?” I frame it as a question, giving her the option. She thinks on it for a minute, and it’s like I can see the wheels turning in her head.

“No, you should stay. I think you should stay.”

With her permission granted, I get up to bring over the rest of the two pies, grabbing some cokes from the fridge along the way. “Do you have ice?” I ask.

She nods walking over, stopping in front of me. I lean back on the kitchen island again watching her as she grabs two more glasses, popping in the ice cubes and pouring the cokes, the liquid nearly bubbles over but she brings the glass to her lips to catch it before they do .

She passes me my glass, leaning back on the counter across from me. Her actions are more relaxed now, her movements more sure and it’s nice to see that she doesn’t seem fazed at all now.

She holds her glass out to me. “Cheers,” she says, a pretty smile growing on her face. There’s no denying she’s beautiful, in fact she’s the type of girl I’d usually find in a bar and bring home, but after what just happened, I don’t think it’s right to go there with her. Not yet, at least. I shake the thought out of my head. Not ever.

She doesn’t need to be bought into my lifestyle, with my hectic schedule, the puck bunnies, my overbearing agent. No, no girl deserves that.

I give her a smile of my own, “Cheers.”

We share a look and its sort of like we’re confirming we’re both on the same page about where we stand and I follow her back to the couch with the food. We continue our dinner where we left off and I’m relieved when the rest of the evening goes by without even a hint or a mention of what happened earlier.