Page 43 of Don't Leave
Tentatively, I step inside the room. “Do I even want to know what that was all about?” My guess is that I don’t. I didn’t even know they were on speaking terms. Brooklyn has been icing Austin out for weeks now. I had assumed everything was still status quo in that department.
She shrugs before flopping onto her bed with a groan.
Without any preamble whatsoever, she says, “We sort of slept together.”
I’m in the process of unbuttoning my red wool coat when she throws out that little tidbit of information. It’s like a fishing lure I can’t resist swallowing down whole. With my fingers still hovering over a large, black button, my eyes widen. “Sort of?” There’s a pause. “You’re joking, right?”
Instead of meeting my inquisitive gaze, Brooklyn stares up at the ceiling as if it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. Which it’s not. Okay, maybe that’s not altogether true. She does have a huge poster of a practically naked guy taped up there.
“Do I look like I’m kidding? Would I joke about having sex with Austin?” Her voice drops. “Again.”
I peel off my jacket and throw it over my desk chair before dropping down across from her on my bed and holding up a hand. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Back this train up. What do you mean byagain?”
Very slowly, as if it’s painful, she turns her head until her gaze can collide with mine. “All you need to know is that each and every time it occurred was during moments of great weakness.”
“All?” My mouth tumbles open.
Her dark blonde brows pinch together as she grumbles, “Would you please stop looking at me like that. I had sex with someone. I didn’t murder a family of four in their sleep.”
It takes effort to smooth out my facial features. “So exactly how many moments of weakness have you experienced of late?”
Brooklyn ticks off the number on her fingers. When she needs to use her other hand to count, I think that incredulous look sneaks back onto my face again.
She doesn’t bat an eyelash in my direction before saying with enough heat to chastise, “You’re doing it again.”
“Sorry.” I shake my head. “I don’t understand why you’ve been sleeping with the guy who was practically stalking you after you broke up with him. I’m not bent out of shape that you’rehaving sex…just that you’re having sex with Austin.” I lower my voice, trying to gentle my tone. Even though I don’t particularly want to think about Dr. Thompson, I try to channel her for this conversation.
What kind of thought-provoking questions would she ask?
“So, ah, do you think that’s the best idea?”
Brooklyn gives me an exaggerated eye roll. “Of course not! In fact, it’s probably one of the stupider things I’ve done.”
“Then why are you doing it?”
This situation clearly has disaster written all over it. Can’t Brooklyn see that?
I mean…I just walked in on them shouting at one another.
Her face scrunches. “Remember those conversations we had about the rather impressive things he can do with his tongue?”
I wince, not wanting another visual to go along with that comment. It took a really long time to eradicate it from my brain the first time. “Umm, yes…I do.”
She gives me a penetrating look. “Need I say more?”
“I’m begging you not to.”
Her body deflates before she admits, “For some reason, that guy is my kryptonite. I wish he weren’t, but he is.” She stares glumly up at her hot guy poster, which is a first. He is, after all, sporting a rather impressive boner. It’s like her very own happy place.
“Kind of sounds like a mess.”
Inhaling a deep breath, she agrees softly, “You have no idea just what a clusterfuck it is.”
Unfortunately, I’m no stranger to the concept of a clusterfuck. I’m living it right now. Instead of telling her about my own situation, I decide to keep it to myself. I don’t want to turn the focus away from Brooklyn and the issues she’s struggling with. There’ll be more than enough time for me to dump all my crap on her later.
Today is for Brooklyn.
And her big pile of crap.
