Chapter Thirty
Sunglasses. He needed sunglasses. Something to cover his eyes, he thought, as he dug through the backpack that was sitting beside him, pushing past the books, the compact discs...all the junk that he always took with him. There had to be a pair of sunglasses there somewhere. He always carried at least three pairs with him at all times. Just in case one pair broke, or he lost them. He was the poster boy for Wal-Mart sunglasses.
It wasn't so much that he wanted them to cover his eyes so that no one could recognize him. That's what the ball cap and the plain jeans and sweatshirt were for. No, the glasses were to hide the tiredness, the almost dead look...the emotions. Just like Brooklyn, his eyes showed every emotion, but he couldn't turn it off like she could. He couldn't put on that bored and impassive look. That was one thing that he had yet to master.
JC sighed and rested his head against the window, ignoring the fact that the bill of his ball cap was pushed off to the side slightly. He could always readjust it. He could always fix it, but there were some things in his life that he might not be able to fix. "Now I'm comparing us to a hat. That's so wrong," he said to himself, forgetting for a moment that he wasn't alone. It didn't matter, because the taxi driver seemed to care less if he said anything. He was probably used to people rambling in the backseat.
That's all he had been doing for the past few hours. Rambling to himself, to whoever would listen...ever since Justin had told him what she had said, he had been talking nonsense. Well, there was that one moment that he was completely lucid, but other than that, no one could understand what he had been saying.
"You can't go up there and talk to her," Justin said for what seemed like the millionth time in the last five minutes. He wasn't grasping what he was trying to tell him, without actually saying the words. He didn't want to say the words, because he really didn't want to believe it himself. The words were going to come out sooner or later, weren't they? "Even if you did go to that room, she wouldn't hear whatever you have to say."
JC turned back to look at him. "I KNOW that she won't listen, but I have to give it another chance. Don't you understand that? I can't leave it how it is. Chris isn't talking to me. Brooklyn isn't talking to me. I'm surprised that YOU are even talking to me, but I have to set the record straight. I have to let her know. Well, she knows, but she won't listen, damn it. I have to make her listen."
His eyes rolled. This was really getting annoying, he thought to himself as he leaned against the wall, crossing his arms. "I understand that much, Jace, but you are not listening to a single word that's coming out of my mouth. She won't be able to hear what you want to say, because she isn't there." There, he said it. NOW he would understand.
Or not. "She couldn't have gone far. Not in this weather. She's probably down in the restaurant. If she's down there, I have less of a chance of getting hit. That's perfect." JC reached for his shoes and started to push them onto his feet, hastily tying them. When he found that his fingers couldn't really work as well as he thought they could, he ended up knotting the laces and pushing them inside the top of the sneakers.
"She's NOT in her room. She's NOT in the restaurant. She's NOT in the hotel. Hell, JC, I've been trying to tell you this for the past twenty minutes. She's NOT IN CALIFORNIA. She's not even on the West Coast anymore. She flew home. Flew home as in flew to Nashville. As in she should have already driven to Belleview, and she should be in her house. THAT is what I've been telling you. She left early this morning. Before six, actually, because I went up there and she was already gone."
He sat down hard on the bed. "What do you mean, she's gone home? You mean...but she can't. She couldn't have."
Justin shook his head. "I'm sorry, man, but she already left. Before I left her last night, she told me that she was going home. She asked me to say goodbye to everyone for her."
Very slowly, one pair of blue eyes met another pair of blue eyes. "What...she said goodbye? Are you sure?" When Justin nodded, he couldn't let himself believe that. "She said GOODBYE. She couldn't have said goodbye. She never says goodbye unless she doesn't plan on seeing that person ever again. There is no way in HELL that she said goodbye."
"Brooklyn said goodbye. Would you like me to spell that out for you, because I can if you still don't understand. Not 'so long'. Not 'until I see you again'. Not 'au revior' or 'adios' or anything else in another language. Goodbye. Plain English. Simple as that. She asked me to say goodbye to everyone."
The shoes had started to be kicked off his feet, but he bent over and pushed them back on, reaching for his backpack and throwing it onto the bed. As quick as JC could manage, he gathered his things and threw them inside before going into the corner and closing his suitcase. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
He turned around for a moment. "I have to go after her. I have...she can't just leave. I have to explain to her. Even if she won't listen, I have to TRY. I can't...can't let her walk out of my life like this. I can't let her walk away period. I have to go after her. That's the only way. She has to listen to me. I'll make her listen to me. God, I was such an idiot." The backpack was lifted and put on JC's shoulders before he grabbed the handle of his suitcase. "Look, I'll meet you guys back in Orlando, all right? The lawyers are still talking this over, and if Tim says that he did all of this, then there will be no trial, but they said it would be a good month to a month and a half before the trial even started...if there's going to be one. I have more than enough time to fly down to Nashville and explain to her...make her understand..."
Turning, JC started towards the door and opened it, going out into the hallway. "But...we've got a meeting in four days about the tour!" Justin yelled after him. It was one last effort, and it was weak. He was afraid of what would happen if JC did go. Brooklyn wouldn't want to talk to him, and she would do everything possible to avoid him. This was stupid. JC was right. He WAS an idiot.
"Just...tell them that I'm sorry that I can't be there. Tell them that I'm sick. Hell, tell them that I fell down the well and Lassie couldn't save me in time. I don't give a shit. Tell them I'm dead. I'm out of here."
He didn't even know if there was a flight going to Nashville. But there would be one. There was always a plane full of tourists that were going to Nashville to see The Grand Ol' Opry or some other attraction. There were only two real questions. Was there an extra seat on one of the flights, and would it even take off with the rain that they were having. He didn't know what the weather was like in Tennessee. They might not be able to land.
But he had to try. If there was one thing that he had to do, it was try. He was right. He couldn't let Brooklyn slip away from him like that. She may have tried to close the door, but his foot was still holding it open, even if it was only a fraction of an inch. If there was even a little space, he had a chance, and he was pretty damned sure that there was a little bit of space for him to get through and get to her.
Sitting up, he readjusted his hat and sighed. Even if he had to rent a car and drive all the way to Nashville, he would do it. It would take forever, but as long as he got there to see Brooklyn...as long as he got there...He couldn't even finish the thought.
There was no longer any word like 'maybe' in his vocabulary. He wasn't going to give her a chance. Either he was in her life for good, or he was out of it. He needed his answer, and getting it while she was angry didn't mean a thing. And damn it, he was going to get that answer if it was the last thing that he did.
It may have taken awhile, but she felt better now that it was done. All of the pictures that had her and JC or her and Chris in them...they were all taken out of their frames and put into an empty photo album. It had hurt to go through all of them and look at the faces that she had come to love, but that part of her life was over with, wasn't it? She needed to erase every little bit of them from her house. And there had been so many God damned pictures. They were in her bedroom, in her living room...in her music room. The one room that she could escape to and just be herself had been filled with reminders of them.
The picture frames had been filled up with pictures of her and other people. All the pictures that she had meant to put up one day, but never did. She even put up pictures of her parents, as much as that hurt. But it didn't hurt as much as what had just happened.
Has she really said all of that? Every few minutes her mind would go back to the hotel room in California, and she would relive all the words, all the expressions...she hadn't really meant all of it, had she? No, not all of it, but a great portion of it. Why had she ever attacked Chris? He didn't deserve it. He was right. He had been pulled into the situation without knowing anything about it. She had attacked her best friend, the one person that she always knew would be there for her. "Not anymore, Brooklyn. You told him off. That's good." The words didn't reassure her. They only made her feel worse.
There had to be something that she could do to take her mind off of everything. She wasn't ready just then to pick up her guitar. There were so many songs that she had sang with JC, just fooling around. There had been so many songs that she had forced Chris to listen to. There were too many songs that could hit home. There had to be a song out there somewhere that had nothing to do with love. Nothing to do with love, losing love, finding love, love of any kind...it was hopeless.
Wasn't there a basic piece of fluff out there somewhere that had nothing to do with the L-word? Something about getting drunk. No, that had been covered and the subject of the song had ended up getting married to someone that night. Something about doing absolutely nothing. No, that had been covered and the subject of the song had ended up seeing their true love walk up to them.
"My GOD! There's more to this world than love!" she shouted, looking around. Maybe she just needed someone to talk to. Someone who wouldn't yell at her. But she couldn't call Mia or Austin on their honeymoon. She couldn't ruin it for them. She couldn't call Gina, her neighbor, because she had gone on vacation with her kids and husband. She couldn't call Joe, her manager, because they seemed to have been growing apart lately. She couldn't go to the diner and talk to Molly, because she really didn't want to drive all the way into Nashville. "Face it. You're a lonely, pathetic, STUPID person. You're going to have to open your eyes and see that one day."
She knew what she needed. After her tour was done, and there wasn't all that much left, she needed to get away from everything. From everyone she knew, from the town she lived in, from the state. And there was only one place that she could go to, the one place that belonged to her. Mia had said that she had finalized the deal for Brooklyn on the cabin out in Colorado. She was planning on using it for a white Christmas, but she could go there before that. Besides, Mia was the only one who had the address, and if she asked, she wouldn't give it to anyone but Austin.
That was perfect. She could take her skis with her, take a suitcase or two full of clothes, and spend her time up in the cabin. She hadn't been there yet, so it would be the perfect time to look it over and maybe change a few things to her liking. The best part would be that no one would be able to find her.
The problem was, the idea was great for after the tour, but she had to get out of the house that very moment. She knew that if she didn't, she would ultimately put the television onto TBS Superstation and sit there all day and night, watching reruns of old shows. She couldn't allow herself to fall into that pattern again.
With a sigh, she put on her cowboy boots and reached for her waterproof jacket when she heard the tell-tale sound of rain on the roof. "Sure, I had to bring the weather back with me, didn't I?" Before she left the house, she made sure that she had a wallet full of money, just in case she had to stay in a hotel overnight if it got too bad. Taking a deep breath, she ran out of the house and towards the jeep, unlocking the door to slide in before slamming the door shut. It was probably a good thing that when she had left her jeep at the airport, she had put the top up. The last thing she needed was a soggy car.
She didn't even realize that she had headed straight for Nashville when she came to the outskirts of town. She didn't want to go to Nashville. She didn't want to see the studio, or the airport, or...it was hopeless. The only place that she could go was the diner. There wasn't enough food in the house to make a decent meal and to tell the truth, she didn't want to cook. Cooking took too much effort at the moment.
So, she kept driving along until she spied the lit windows from the diner. Finding a parking spot was easy, and the jeep glided into it without any problems before she shut off the engine and reached for her purse, slipping out of the vehicle to walk inside. Immediately, she caught the attention of the woman behind the counter. "My Lord, look at you, girl. You look like a drowned rat. What are you doing, going out in this weather?" Molly asked putting her hands on her hips as Brooklyn approached the counter and sat down on her stool. The one beside her was empty. It was empty because only three people could sit there with her. Joe, Austin, or JC. And none of them were with her.
"The house was too empty without Austin being there, so I came into town for a good meal. How have you been?" she asked in a dull tone, her eyes meeting Molly's as she shrugged off her jacket and purse, putting them on the stool beside her.
Molly watched her carefully before sighing. "Something's wrong, and I think it has something to do with a certain dark haired, blue eyed singer than it does with her brother. Besides, you know that when Austin does come home, he's moving his things into Mia's apartment."
She nodded and looked down. "I know, but...it doesn't matter. Could you get me a cup of coffee, please?" she asked, rubbing her hands together before she felt her hair. It was wet and stringy, hanging limply. It didn't matter. There was no one that she wanted to impress at the moment.
Almost instantly, a mug was put down in front of her before it was filled with the aromatic liquid. "You need more than just a cup of coffee to get rid of that chill, sweetie. How about some chicken stew?"
A smile landed on Brooklyn's lips, but it didn't reach up enough to brighten her eyes. Even Molly saw that. "As long as you toss some Texas style toast on with that, I'll take it. I do need something a little warm. Can you keep the order down to a dull roar, though, please?" she asked, even though it was pointless.
She winked. "No problem, Brooke." Her head turned so that she could see into the kitchen. "Hey! Get me a bowl of stew and some toast for the country star, would you? She finally decided to grace us with her presence!" Turning back to Brooklyn, she smirked and wiped at the counter quickly. "So, are you going to tell me why you look like you were just run over by a Mack truck, or do I have to guess?"
"Mol, no offense or anything, but I'm really not in the mood to talk. I've had the week from hell, and it doesn't look like it's going to be improving anytime soon. All I really want to do is crawl into bed and pull the covers over my head to ignore the world, but I can't do that until I have some actual food in my stomach. I actually broke down and ate the airplane food. God, that was a mistake." Anything to get her off of the subject that she knew she was going to hit on. Anything at all.
Like she did it every day, Molly poured another mug of coffee and came around the counter to move her jacket and purse to the ground, sitting down on the stool. "YOU had airplane food? Where did you run off to, anyway? I haven't seen you in ages."
"I was on tour," she said quietly, playing with the spoon in front of her.
"You were not on tour, so don't give me that line of bull. I know that you were in town. Did you know that they had the cutest picture of you and JC in the newspaper at the wedding? And how come you never told me that you guys were dating, huh? I had to find out about it on television."
Brooklyn swallowed thickly when she heard that, and brought the steaming mug up to her lips to take a sip of the coffee. It burned her throat, but she didn't care. Her hands were shaking so badly, she didn't think that she was going to be able to put the mug back down on the counter without anything spilling out, but she managed to. One of the few things that she had managed to accomplish in the past week. "Oh, Molly, did you have to bring that up?" Curiously, Molly looked her over, and her eyes widened suddenly. "You noticed, huh?"
Her head shook slowly. "Tell me that you didn't. The necklace would only be gone for one reason, and you...oh, Brooke. I'm sorry. When did this happen?" she asked, putting her hand over the country singer's.
"Yesterday. Well, it all came to a head yesterday, but really it happened the night of the wedding. There were...circumstances that I can't even begin to understand, no matter how many times he or Chris have tried to drill them into my head. I just...I was in California, since you were wondering. I booked an early morning flight and came back. I couldn't stay there."
Her hands went down to play with the coffee spoon again, watching as it reflected the overhead lights. "Wait, back it up just a second. Who's this Chris guy?"
"I forgot that you never met him. Chris is one of the guys that sings with J...with HIM, but he and I were friends. I mean, I haven't known him that long, and you know me. I NEVER just get along with a person like that unless I want to, but he...he was always there for me, you know? He was my best friend, but...let's just say that EVERYTHING that had to do with them came to a head yesterday." She had t keep her emotions in check. Don't let anyone see that it's really bothering you, she thought to herself, giving herself a quick mental slap. "But it's okay. I mean life goes on, right?"
"Yes, life goes on, but..." She trailed off and sighed when Brooklyn's order was called back. "Just give me a second here." Immediately, the stew and the toast was put in front of her, and Brooklyn sunk her spoon into it, looking down. The mere thought of food made her feel sick, but she had to eat something. If she didn't, then Molly was going to wonder, and when Molly wondered, she got the answers to all of her questions, no matter what. She didn't want to deal with that, so she brought the spoon up to her mouth and blew on the stew for a moment. "So, just like that, you guys are over? Even before it began?"
She chewed quickly. "Oh, no, it began a long time ago. Probably even before Tim was out of the picture, it was there, but we just chose to ignore it. We'd actually dated before we announced it, and we had been dating awhile, but...the story of my life, I guess. Nothing goes right."
Clicking her tongue, the older woman leaned on the counter. "Honey, no offense, but I was sure that he was the one for you. I saw it the moment that the two of you walked in here, but I can't believe that either of you would give up so easily." Her eyes narrowed suddenly. "No, I take that back. I believe that you could give up that easily, because you've done it before. But for JC to give up like that...that's wrong. You know that he's going to come back eventually."
"That's what I'm scared of. He's always going to come back, and I don't want him to. I'd rather forget him and leave it at that. I've had more heartache and trouble than a person should have in an entire lifetime, and I'm only twenty five! It doesn't make sense, but I'm not going to try and figure it out anymore. I just want it to be over."
"Brooklyn Arizona, you can't just forget him like that. You were...ARE in love with the poor idiot. He still loves you, too. Now, I'm not a betting woman, but this would be a sure thing."
Her head raised and she let out a half patient sigh. "Wasn't that the name of a horse that was in the Kentucky Derby or something? Sure Thing? I'm positive that I remember hearing that name."
Molly looked at her impatiently. "Hush up, child, and listen to me. He's going to come back to you, sooner than you may think," she began, slowing her words for a moment. "And when he does, you're going to have one hell of a fight on your hands. You can either let him back in, or you can turn your back and walk away forever. Don't bother even thinking about it, because that will only confuse you more. When he says something to you, that's when the wheels should start turning, and you have to pick which road you're going to take."
"Maybe I should do something that I KNOW would keep him away for good. I could take up smoking or something."
Her hands hit the counter. "If I ever see a cigarette in between those lips of yours, I will smack you so hard it's not even funny. Don't even joke about those kinds of things." Her voice softened. "I know that you're stuck right now, but honey, the answer will come to you eventually. I can already see it in your eyes. You're thinking about how you're going to live without him. It's a depressing thought, isn't it?"
A frown quickly covered her face. "It may be, but like I said, life goes on. Shit happens. The world is still turning, I haven't been hit by a car yet...I'd say that all in all, things are good right now. Besides, I wouldn't even know what to do if I saw him. There are so many things that I'd LIKE to do, but unfortunately, I don't want to spend the rest of my natural life in jail."
"It's a damned good thing that I have life insurance, then." She froze when she heard the voice behind her and closed her eyes, practically begging in her mind that it wasn't him. It couldn't be him. There is no way that he could have gotten a flight so quickly and gotten out to Nashville. She had more than enough trouble getting a flight that left at three thirty in the morning.
Her legs seemed to make the stool turn without asking her if it was all right, and her eyes opened before she could stop herself. It was him all right. His hair was wet and dripping, there was water running down his face from the rain, and his shirt was almost soaked through, but it was him. Standing right in front of her, with a timid smile and a haggard expression, but it was him. "Hi, New York," he said softly, searching her face for some sign of her breaking.
For a moment, she almost did. She almost reached out and touched him to make sure that he was really there, but she caught herself in time and turned back to the counter. Reaching into her jeans pocket, she pulled out a crumpled ten dollar bill and threw it on the counter. "Thanks for diner, Molly." She picked up her jacket and purse, putting both of them on before brushing past him. "I told you that I never wanted to hear you call me that again," she hissed as she pushed open the door and walked back out into the rain.
She should have known that if he followed her to Nashville, he would have no problem following her outside. He caught up with her when she was halfway towards the jeep, and took her by the arm. She turned fast enough to make her wet hair send an arc of water through the air. "What, exactly, do you want? I thought that I explained everything out in California," she said, raising her voice so that she could be heard above the sound of the rain storm.
"You were lying," he rebutted, watching her eyes. "I know you were lying, you know that you were lying...so why won't you listen to me? That's all I want, Brooklyn. I just want to set the record straight with you."
Her head shook so furiously that it snapped in two places. "I know enough already, and I don't want to hear the rest. I know that you went behind my back and went to see Tim, of all people. And you couldn't tell me! What's the problem, JC? Didn't trust me enough? Thanks. Really, thanks a lot. I appreciate that. I'm just glad that it all got out before I did something that I really regretted. Now let go of my arm before I scream loud enough to bring the security guard over from Curb of Nashville. And you know that he would come and he would have no problem protecting me from the most pig headed, egotistical rat bastard in the whole freaking world."
He dropped her arm, unwillingly, but didn't stop looking at her. "You have to give me a chance, Brooklyn. Just one more chance, that's all I want from you. Please."
Her eyes narrowed and she moved so that she could brush away a piece of hair that had plastered itself to her face. "I'm sick and tired of giving people a second chance. Do you remember what happened last time I gave someone a second chance? And after the second chance comes a third, and then a fourth, and to tell the truth, I'm sick of all of it. I can forgive and shrug off a lot of shit, but this really takes it, JC. You really screwed up with me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I don't exactly want to be sick, so I think that I'm going to get in my warm car and get the hell out of here."
She took off again, walking faster this time. He couldn't help running after her. His feet seemed to have a mind of their own, and his hand, as well. When he reached out to touch her shoulder and maybe make her stop, she whirled around and smacked her palm against the side of her face. "Leave me alone! What part of that don't you understand?" she screamed, before she ran as fast as she could and got into the jeep.
JC watched her pull out of the parking lot and out onto the road, never looking over at him once. He couldn't move. It didn't matter that her slap had caused one side of his face to go completely numb. She had a hell of a slap, and he would give her that, but he had seen something there, something in her eyes that gave him a little hope. THAT was what he couldn't believe, and because of it, he couldn't move a muscle.
He heard someone approach him from behind, and sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "Come on. You could use a strong cup of coffee, and I think that you and I need to have a little talk," Molly said from behind him, taking him by the arm and bringing him back to the diner.
She stormed into the house, almost slipping on the hardwood floor of the foyer with her slick cowboy boots. Stopping long enough to pull them off, she continued to stomp through the house, into the kitchen. She was absolutely freezing from standing out in the rain, she was cold, and she more than pissed off. How dare he even come back to her, she thought to herself. After all he did to her, lying to her, going behind her back, he had the nerve to come up behind her and ask for another chance.
"I should have hit him harder, or done some real damage," she mumbled to herself, pouring some milk into a mug before putting it in the microwave and turning it on for a minute. If she stood still, she was going to think of him. And she couldn't stand still.
Making her way through the kitchen, she dug out the hot chocolate mix and slammed it down onto the counter, grunting in satisfaction when she heard the noise. Then, she attacked the cutlery drawer, taking out a tablespoon. She slammed the drawer shut with her hip before looking down at it. Opening it again, she hit it even harder with the palms of her hands, smiling when she heard the knives jump up and down.
The microwave beeped three times before she walked over to it, taking out her hot milk. There was something about the smell of it that brought back some memory. A memory that she wanted to forget and never think about again.
His feet dangled above the floor as he sipped it slowly, sitting in the dim light of the light above the stove. From outside, he heard the sound of a car door being slammed, followed by laughter. "What are you doing up?" a sleepy voice asked him.
He turned to look at Brooklyn, who followed his steps, pouring herself a glass of milk. Instead of what he had done, she warmed it for a little while in the microwave and added a dash of nutmeg before taking a sip. "Couldn't sleep. You?" She nodded, moving to stand near him before she leaned against the counter. "You seemed to have been asleep for a little while. I heard your hand hit the wall."
"That would explain why my knuckles are a little red." She looked at them curiously before sipping her warm milk again, sighing slightly. "I just woke up and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought that a little milk would help." She twirled the glass in her hands and looked up at JC. "I was dreaming about what happened this morning, but it was a little more...intense, I guess you could say." She looked sheepish, but it didn't stop her from telling him the rest. "It got to the point where I went to go and check to make sure that you were still here, but when you weren't in your room, and I heard the fridge shut, I knew you were down here."
"It was just a dream, New York." She nodded, taking a deep breath as she finished off the glass of milk. "Go back to bed. If it makes you feel any better, I'll check in on you before I go back to my room."
Just something else that connected JC and Tim. That had been right after the fight in the driveway, and she remembered how she felt when she had woken up from the nightmare. She had been so scared that it had actually happened, and she wanted to make sure that he was all right. And when she had seen that he was all right, that he was safe, she couldn't help the feeling of relief that flooded into her.
"God DAMN it!" she said angrily, turning to kick the cupboard. Biting her lip, she limped over to where she had left the hot chocolate mix and pried open the top with her spoon before dumping a few tablespoons into the milk and stirring it absently. She didn't even notice when a tear started to fall from her eye and make a trail down her face. The action had turned so voluntary lately, it was like breathing. She didn't have to think about it, but she knew that it was going to happen whether she wanted it or not. "Why can't I just stop breathing then?" she asked herself in a quiet voice before putting the spoon on the sink and walking to the living room, curling up on the couch in the dark.
She didn't want the light on. If the light was on, she might see something that reminded her of JC but she had forgotten to put away, and then she would be even more miserable. No, she had to leave that until the next day. "I need something to take my mind off of him," she said aloud before standing up and taking her mug with her.
Moving through the dark was no problem whatsoever, and before long, she found herself in the music room, turning on the lamp by the door. She walked over to the window and pulled on the curtains to so that she could see the occasional flash of lightning before she reached for her guitar, settling herself on the couch. There had to be a song that wouldn't remind her of him.
Her fingers seemed to move on their own, and they started to play a familiar song. She didn't know why the melody left her with an uncomfortable feeling, but she started to sing along without thinking. If only she had sat there for a few moments and thought about the words, maybe she would have stopped, but it was too late now. "The moon is full, and my arms are empty. All night long, I've pleaded and cried. You always said the day that you would leave me, would be a cold day in July."
Shaking her head, she continued the song, the feeling increasing more and more with each note. "Your bags are packed. Not a word is spoken. I guess we said everything with good bye. Time moves so slow and promises get broken on this cold day in July." Oh, there was definitely something wrong with this song. She just couldn't nail it. "Sun's comin' up, comin' up down on Main Street. Children shout as they're running out to play. Head in my hands, here I am standing in my bare feet, watching you drive away. Watching you drive away."
The tears started to fall faster down her face, and landed on the smooth exterior of her guitar, but she couldn't stop now. When had she ever left a song unfinished? "You said that we were gonna last forever. You said our love would never die. It looks like spring, and it feels like sunny weather, but it's a cold day in July."
There was a first time for everything, and Brooklyn had to stop singing. Her voice became choked with her tears, and even though she tried to stop it, a sob ripped from her throat. The guitar slid down to the ground from her lap and she reached forward to wrap her arms around her knees, bringing her head down.
Why couldn't he have just stayed away, she wanted to know. Life would have been so much easier if he had. She would have made it through, but he came back, and that ruined everything. It was harder to move on when she saw him. Now, she was wondering if she could ever move on. She never should have taken back her word when she said that she was going to forget all about love and lust and live as a lonely old woman. She should have stayed that way.
And why did, all of a sudden, she want him with her? Needed him to be with her. She would give anything to have the arms that would wrap around her and make her feel so safe and secure. To hear the voice that could calm her down. To feel the touch that would brush away her tears. If she saw him at that very moment, she would have given in.
It was probably a good thing that she didn't turn around then. Because she would have seen him outside the window, watching her as she cried her heart out. Faintly, he heard the words of the song, and each one ripped at him a little more. There was nothing that he wanted more in the world than to go in there and comfort her. And he could. He had a key to the front door on his keyring. All he had to do was unlock the door and walk in...
But instead, he turned away. She wouldn't listen to him now. Maybe he should give her some time. He shouldn't have pushed her. He should have just given up completely. He was making her life worse and worse, but he couldn't help it. He loved her, damn it, and he needed her back in his life. "Damn it," he choked out, taking a deep breath and blinking his eyes furiously as he walked back down the street. "You're a fool, Chasez. You're a fool, you're a wimp...and you're in love. GREAT combination."
Her eyes were barely open as she stumbled into the kitchen, groaning as she felt her jeans biting into her leg after laying down for hours while wearing them. Well, sleeping would be a more accurate term. Her crying jag had ended up taking all of her energy, and she had fallen asleep on the worn material of the couch in the music room, part of her guitar shoved against her leg, which left a very uncomfortable red mark.
Moving mechanically, she put a new filter in the coffee maker and dumped in three scoops of the strong smelling granules before slamming the container shut and pouring in twelve cups of water, hitting the switch to 'on'. For a little while, she stood there and watched it percolate before she walked over to the kitchen sink and ran some ice cold water, splashing her face.
She still couldn't believe that he had the nerve to show up in Nashville the night before. He had followed her and shown up in the diner, wanting to talk to her. Didn't he know that he did enough talking already? She didn't want to say another word to him. She couldn't even THINK of anything else that she left unsaid.
Wasn't it enough that she had told him to get out of her life, leave her the hell alone, and that she didn't need him? Even if it was mainly a lie, didn't she tell him that? Then, why would he follow her. He should have known what was going to happen. He should have known that she was going to be angry, she was going to be stubborn, and she most certainly was not going to be even the slightest bit happy that he had come back to her life.
It was so hard to push someone out of your mind, your life, and never think about them again. It was harder than she had first thought. "But it didn't help that he came back. Didn't he understand a word that I said?" she asked her reflection in the window. It was still raining, not as hard as before, but she had heard the weather report on the drive home last night...the drive away from HIM...and they had predicted more rain for that evening. Just what she needed; weather to match her already surly attitude.
Parts of the night seemed fuzzy to her, but that was to be expected, since she had just woken up. Not everything was coming back to her, like how she had left JC in the parking lot. It wouldn't come back until she had at least half a cup of coffee in her system, and when that happened, her hand jerked with the memory so fast that she tipped the mug, sending the hot liquid across the counter. "Damn it," she muttered, reaching immediately for the cloth and wiping at the spill.
Did she actually hit him? Had she actually brought her hand up and slapped him across the face? Where did she even get the courage for something like that. Never in her wildest dreams had she ever thought of slapping him. Sure, she had kicked him before, and she had punched him, but all the punches had been light and in fun. She had never actually slapped him across the face...but they do so that there's a first time for everything.
Wasn't that a change from her last relationship. Last time, she had been the one that had been beaten on. Now, she was doing the beating, in more than one way. She had already attacked his heart, now she attacked him physically. Part of her mind told her that she was justified, but the other part of her mind was telling her that she had acted ridiculously, and that he didn't deserve to be hit, no matter what he had done to her.
Too bad that half wasn't speaking as loudly as the other half.
She had almost given up last night, she thought as she poured herself a fresh mug of coffee, drinking it slowly as she stared out the kitchen window to the side yard and the neighbor's house. Someone new had just moved in, and she hadn't had the chance to go over there and introduce herself yet. Of course, she had been busy lately, so that could be excused. She wasn't much of a neighbor at the moment. Hell, she wasn't much of a person.
But that didn't matter at the moment. The only thing that stuck in her mind was that she had almost given up and given in to him. ALMOST but not quite. And if she had her way, that almost was never going to come. That almost COULDN'T come, because that would mean that she had broken down and let someone else win. She was too stubborn to give into anyone.
Brooklyn Arizona Turner never gave in, and she wouldn't this time.
Like she had done that morning when she had woken up, JC rubbed his eyes and wondered what the hell he was going to do. He couldn't just approach her again. He was lucky enough to get away with that as it was. It was almost a miracle that she hadn't called for the night security guard to come over from his warm and dry post at Curb Records of Nashville to save the female superstar of their label. He had also been damned lucky that Molly hadn't done anything too damaging to him.
Instead, she had taken him back into the diner, made sure that he had some hot coffee and soup, before having a talk with him. Luckily, the talk didn't last as long as he thought it would, and he had gotten to Brooklyn's house just after she had. He was surprised to watch from the corner as her jeep pulled into the driveway a good two hours after she left the diner, but she had obviously taken a drive to clear her head...or let her anger become even stronger, because she had to know that he was going to keep trying.
Watching her the night before had made him feel even worse than he had before. He already felt like a prick, but this really pushed it over the top. She hadn't just cried over him. No, Justin was right with his description a few days ago. Brooklyn had sobbed her heart out. She had cried, she had screamed, she had beaten at the cushions...it was almost like a child having a temper tantrum, but she needed to get it out of her system.
Maybe he should have walked into her house. Even if she would have attacked him, called the police, yelled at him, it would have done a hell of a lot to lighten the dark cloud that had settled over him if she had stopped crying. Even if it would have only lightened it a little, he would have been happy, because it seemed like nothing was going to get better in his life.
He only had one plan, and it was weak when he thought about it, and even weaker after he had slept on it. But he had to try. He didn't know what he would do if he didn't try at least once, and turn to the person that had already helped out him and Brooklyn more than he had to. He had to try calling Chris and asking him what to do.
The cell phone rolled back and forth in his hands as he stared down at it. Did he have the guts to dial the familiar number? There was a strong chance that Chris would just hang up on him, since he had already made it clear that he wasn't going to talk to JC more than necessary. That could fade with time. As long as he left him alone, Chris and he would get back to normal after awhile, but for the time being, he was one incredibly pissed off man. JC wasn't sure if it was because he had lost Brooklyn's friendship, or if it was because of the words that they had exchanged, but he was mad. There was no disputing that fact.
It was hopeless, he decided after five minutes of looking down at the phone, before he tossed it beside him on the bed. It was hopeless to try, it was hopeless to think about, and it was hopeless to even think that Brooklyn would take him back. That she would give him a second chance. She said last night that she didn't give second chances anymore.
But maybe he could convince her to give him one more try. He had done it before, and now they had a stronger history than the time before. His fingers were crossed when he thought about it. He had to at least try and get her back in his life. What kind of person would he be if he didn't even attempt?
Attempting, though, seemed to be getting dimmer and dimmer. The thought of just running back to Orlando and forgetting about the whole thing keep coming back to him, over and over, whenever he thought of her name. She had said that she didn't need this kind of trouble in her life (though with stronger words), and he didn't either. So why was he the only one that was sitting there, wondering what to do. Why was he the only one that was trying to come up with a plan to get them back to where they had been before.
An even better question was, why was he alone?
Ever since Brooklyn had come into his life, he couldn't imagine it without her. He couldn't imagine going through his days without hearing her voice on the phone, listening to her laugh, watching her eyes when she started to smile. Hell, he'd even settle for her to appear in his room and yell "FIRE!" to wake him up. Now that she was gone, he tried desperately to remember each conversation, each giggle, each grin, and each joke. None of the memories made up for the real thing, though. Nothing could make up for the real thing.
He had taken it all for granted, hadn't he? He never thought that they wouldn't be together. Whether in a relationship, or just being friends, he never thought that there would be a time when they were split up. It was the hopeless romantic in him that was making him think about this, and he knew that there was a reason that he didn't let that side show very often. It just brought more and more heartache into his life, didn't it? It just brought more and more trouble, and he didn't need to take it. But for some reason, he was willing to take it. What did that mean?
His mind was a complete mess at the moment. He didn't know if he was coming or going, how to distinguish right from left, what was up and what was done. Even black and white didn't seem the same. There was a difference with how he looked at the world. Maybe because life seemed a little bit more...empty.
With a groan, he slammed down onto the hotel bed in Nashville and slammed his eyes shut, not wanting to look out the window anymore. That's what he used to do the one time that he had stayed in this hotel. He used to watch for Brooklyn coming. To see a glimpse of the truck that she used to drive, to hear the music spilling out of the open windows. To see the cowboy hat that was perched on her head, watch as she waved at people that she didn't know and say hello to people that she did. He would stand there and smile, wrapped up in the thought that the incredible woman that had seemed to capture everyone's attention was taking time out of her life to come and see him.
Not anymore, he thought with a bitter laugh. She wasn't pulling into the parking lot anymore. She wasn't going to come bounding out, after she turned down Alan Jackson or Lonestar, practically running into the lobby of the hotel. No, because he had royally screwed up by trying to protect her.
There was a time when he had tried to think of what his life would have been like without her. Now, he was living those thoughts, and he didn't care for it that much, but he was almost ready to give up. He was almost ready to give up and go back home with his tail between his legs like a scolded dog. Maybe it was time for him to get on with his life, like she was trying to do. Nothing was a sure thing anymore. His relationship and friendship with Brooklyn could just be one of those things that weren't so sure anymore. Because it sure as hell wasn't looking sure to him.
Chapter Thirty-One
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