Page 59 of That: Taylor & Brooks

Brooks didn’t move at first. He just stood there, watching her, waiting, letting her come to him. She barely noticed herself moving faster, her bags forgotten the moment she reached him. She inhaled. He smelled as he always did, her safe space.

“Damn, Tay Marie,” Brooks murmured, arms circling her waist, voice a low vibration in her ear. “Took you long enough.”

He lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his waist and arms around his neck. He leaned back to examine her to make sure his package hadn’t been damaged before reaching him.

“I’m happy to see you,” he said looking in her eyes and kissing her on the lips. That’s when the tears came. In his arms the levee broke. Years of holding it in, of pretending, of being the strong one, all of it cracked wide open.

Brooks held her knowing exactly what this moment meant. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other firm under her butt cheeks. He just hugged her. He didn’t say it would be okay. He didn’t rush her. He just let her be.

“I got you,” he whispered against her hair, and she believed him. “I know you’ve spent years showing up for people who made you question your worth. You ain’t gotta perform here.”

After a moment, she pulled back, wiping at her face, embarrassed. “Your hoodie.”

“Fuck the hoodie.” His thumb brushed a stray tear from her cheek, eyes searching hers. “You good?”

She nodded, then shook her head, then laughed wetly. “I don’t know. But I’m glad I’m here.”

“That’s fair.” He studied her face, taking in the dark circles under her eyes, the tension in her shoulders. “When’s the last time you ate?”

Taylor opened her mouth, then frowned. “I don’t know.”

His eyes narrowed, but his tone stayed calm. “Come on, girl.”

He placed her down on her feet allowing his hand to settle against the small of her back. She grabbed herluggage and carry on and he guided her outside into the cool Denver night. Parked right at the curb, idling waiting just for her, was a sleek black Cadillac Escalade, rims shining under the airport lights. It looked just like the one he drove back home.

People watched and wondered who they were but they weren’t focused on anything but each other. He opened the door, and her breath caught in her throat.

Sitting on the back seat was a massive bouquet of deep red roses. The expensive kind. Wrapped in rich black and gold tissue, full-bodied and decadent.

Taylor stopped short and stomped her foot, her emotions were all over the place. “Brooks…”

“Nah,” he said, grinning. “I don’t wanna hear it.” He reached for her hand, smirking as he gestured for her to get in. “This what happens when you get flown out.”

She laughed caught between disbelief and butterflies.

Brooks tossed her luggage in the back and climbed in beside her, his tall frame settling next to hers with ease. He glanced over, amusement tugging at his mouth as he watched her cradle the bouquet like it was fragile.

“They’re just flowers, Tay.”

“No,” she whispered, “They’re not.”

Brooks didn’t say anything to that. Just reached over, cupped her thigh, and squeezed.

“Let’s get you fed,” he said. “I’m beginning to believe that’s my purpose in your life.”

“Stop, I eat. Today was just a rough day.”

“Whatever you say.”

Brooks directed the driver to a quiet spotdowntown, a hidden gem known for comfort food and privacy. They settled into a corner booth, both too emotionally drained for anything fancy.

As they ate, Taylor fought to keep her eyes open, jet lag catching up with her. Brooks couldn’t stop watching her across the table, studying the curve of her neck, the way her lashes fluttered when she blinked slowly. Part of him still couldn’t believe she was here, that she’d crossed time zones just to be with him.

An hour later, back at the hotel, Taylor stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows in Brooks’ suite.

The hot shower they’d shared had loosened her muscles, but not her mind.

Her skin still glistened from cocoa butter, warm beneath the plush robe that barely concealed the black bra and panty set he’d bought for her.

---