Page 46 of Healing Hearts
The salty breeze off the harbor carries a chill as Brooke and I walk along the boardwalk, her hand loosely resting in mine. The rhythm of the waves against the docks usually brings a sense of calm, but tonight, it feels like the beauty of the scene is lost on her. Her usual spark, that vibrant energy I’ve come to adore, is dimmed. She’s here with me physically, but her mind is somewhere else entirely.
Every so often, she bites her lip, her eyes darting toward me like she wants to say something but can’t quite bring herself to actually say it. It’s as if she’s holding a secret so heavy, it’s threatening to pull her under.
“You’ve been quiet,” I say softly, trying not to spook her.
She startles slightly, her gaze snapping to mine as though I’d caught her in the middle of a confession. “Sorry,” she mutters, her voice barely above a whisper. “Just… a lot on my mind.”
“I’ve noticed,” I reply, stopping at the edge of the boardwalk and leaning against the wooden railing. The wooden beams creak slightly under my weight. “You can talk to me, you know. About anything.”
Her eyes shift to the water, the moonlight reflecting off the gentle waves. She doesn’t speak right away, and the silence between us stretches just a bit too long.
I decide to take the leap first. “Look, before we go any further tonight, there’s something I should tell you.”
That gets her attention. Her head tilts slightly, her eyes locking onto mine. There’s a flicker of concern there, clouding their usual warmth, and my chest tightens. This isn’t how I wanted to have this conversation, but I don’t see another way around it.
“It’s about Vivian,” I say, rubbing the back of my neck—a nervous habit I can’t seem to break. “She and I… we used to date.”
Brooke’s brows knit together; her expression carefully neutral. But she doesn’t say anything, giving me the space to continue.
“It was years ago, and honestly, I regretted it almost from the start,” I admit, my gaze fixed on the horizon. “She’s… intense, to put it mildly. Things between us didn’t end well. And now she’s back working at the hospital as a traveling nurse, trying to rekindle something that’s been dead for years.”
Brooke exhales slowly, her shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “She seems like the type who thrives on drama.”
I chuckle bitterly. “That’s putting it lightly. She’s always been dramatic, especially when she feels ignored. And she’s got this blog and influencer side thing now, so stirring the pot gets her clicks and likes. I’m guessing this whole Sophie Quinn thing is just her latest stunt to grab attention.”
Brooke looks away, her teeth worrying at her bottom lip. Her silence stretches too long, her body practically vibrating with tension. Her grip on the railing tightens, her knuckles pale under the moonlight.
“Brooke,” I say, turning to face her fully. I reach out andgently place a hand over hers, anchoring her to me. “What’s going on? You’ve been distracted all day. Talk to me, baby, please. Whatever it is, we can deal with it together.”
She lets out a shaky laugh, her eyes meeting mine briefly before darting away again. “You say that so easily,” she murmurs. “But what if this… us… what if it’s all too much?”
Her words hit me like a gut punch. “Too much?” I echo, my throat tightening. “Brooke, you mean everything to me. Whatever it is, we’ll handle it together.”
She shakes her head, her hair catching the breeze. “It’s not that simple, Trevor. There’s so much you don’t know about me. Things I’ve kept hidden because… because I was scared. Scared of how people would see me, of what they’d think.”
Her voice trembles, and I hate the fear I hear in it. I step closer, cupping her face in my hands. “Listen to me,” I say, my voice firm but gentle. “There’s nothing you could tell me that would change how I feel about you. Nothing.”
Her eyes brim with unshed tears, and for a moment, I think she’s going to pull away. But then she takes a deep breath, steadying herself. “Trevor,” she begins, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m Sophie Quinn.”
The words hang in the air between us, and for a moment, all I can do is stare at her, uncomprehending. “Sophie Quinn,” I repeat slowly, the name sounding foreign in my mouth.
She nods, biting her lip. “The books. The ones everyone’s talking about. The ones Vivian is so determined to expose… I wrote them. It’s me. I’m the author.”
Understanding washes over me in a wave, and suddenly, everything clicks into place—the guarded look in her eyes, the tension she’s been carrying, the reason she’s been so distracted. “You’re Sophie Quinn,” I say again, but this time, there’s awe in my voice.
She pulls back slightly, her arms wrapping around herselflike a shield. “You must think I’m ridiculous, hiding it like this. But you don’t understand. If people knew, if my students’ parents knew… it could ruin everything. My job, my reputation… everything I’ve built.”
I take her hands in mine, gently prying them from where she’s clutching her arms. “Hey,” I say softly, forcing her to look at me. “You’re not ridiculous. You’re brave. Do you know how amazing it is that you’ve created something so impactful that people are talking about it like this? You’re Sophie Quinn? As in the bestselling author…that Sophie Quinn? That’s… incredible, Brooke!”
Her eyes search mine, uncertainty flickering in their depths. “You don’t think it’s… shameful? What I write? You’re not…I don’t know…weirded out?”
I shake my head firmly. “Not even a little. Brooke, you’re a storyteller. You give people an escape, a chance to feel something real. That’s a gift. Don’t ever let anyone make you feel ashamed of that. You’re a bestselling author, for crying out loud! But… why isn’t this something you do full-time? And why are we whispering?”
The tension in her shoulders ease slightly, and she lets out a breath she seems to have been holding forever. Her lips part in surprise. “I—well, I was scared at first…when I started writing, so I decided to use a pen name. I didn’t think I’d make it, and then… I just got comfortable keeping it as a side thing. But the books kept becoming more and more popular and I love my job and my kids. If I told anyone who I was, then all of that would be jeopardized and I didn’t want that.” She rambles quickly as if to get it all out. “You really mean all that?”
I smile, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. “Absolutely. And for the record, I’d love to help you with your next book. I hear I’m pretty good at, you know… research.” I wiggle my eyebrows to lighten the mood.
A laugh escapes her, light and genuine, and it feels like the first breath of fresh air after being underwater. “You’re impossible,” she says, shaking her head.
