Just Give In… (19 page)

Brooke shook her head because Gillian had enough to worry about.

Gillian reached over to the backseat and patted her knee, an encouraging smile on her face. “Don’t worry, honey. It’ll go away.”

“You’re sure?” asked Brooke.

“Depends on how bad you got it,” Mindy added, glancing over her shoulder. “A woman can crush on a guy or lust for a guy, and that sort of hurt, that goes away. Sure, it smacks on the ego, but eventually it disappears.”

Brooke wasn’t sure that it would disappear. There wasn’t another man in the world with a heart like the Captain’s, and there was no other heart that she wanted more.

Noticing Brooke’s doubtful expression, Gillian’s perky smiled faded. “It’s the real stuff that hangs on and stings like a mother. Shopping and wine, they’ll make you feel better, but then the ship sinks and you’re floating alone on a piece of ice in the ocean, and all around you, everybody else has found a lifeboat, but not you, no, you’re in the water, freezing and dying, and somewhere in the distance, Celine Dion starts to sing. That, my friend, is the misery of love.”

I
T WAS DARK WHEN
Mindy’s car whizzed passed the Welcome to Tin Cup, Texas, sign and Brooke felt as warm and well pampered as a hand-rolled limp noodle. Her skin had never glowed like a pearl, her hair had never been so glossy and thick and the sleek black designer dress that she’d bought made her look like a million dollars. She’d never paid that much money for a dress before, but Gillian had told her that she needed to splurge every now and then, and Brooke had talked the price down another twenty percent because the prices were highway robbery. In the end, Brooke had waltzed out of the store, turning heads as she passed.

This was a new experience, feeling as if she’d been reborn. Brooke didn’t usually like inviting male attention because it never ended well, but this was her new life, her new future, Gillian and Mindy encouraging her every high-heeled step of the way. All evening Brooke had watched and learned, and by the time the dinner at the fancy Austin restaurant was done, the waiter was eating out of Brooke’s hand, too.

It was a shame to waste all that effort on Delores at the Spotlight Inn, so after Gillian dropped her off, Brooke climbed into the beat-up Impala. For a second she hesitated, until she examined her own reflection in the mirror, the confident smile, the million-dollar hair. She shook out her expensive do and decided that there was no better time to show up at the Captain’s door and show him who Brooke Hart really was.

He greeted her at the door, and she was pleased to see the flash of heat in his gaze. “You look nice.”

“Thank you. Gillian and Mindy took me to Austin for a day of beauty, and I wanted to show off. Can I come in?”

The heat dimmed, but he nodded and stepped aside.

The front room looked a lot better this time. The dishes were put away, Dog was idling in the corner, and there was a bowl of fruit on the kitchen table.

“I like the hair.”

She made a great show of swishing it around, just like in the shampoo commercials. “It’s great. They put a special treatment on it, I thought it felt like grease, but it smelled a whole lot better. And here,” she said, stepping close and holding up a strand. “You should feel.”

The Captain took the strand, and dropped it as if it burned. “Nice.”

“Do you mind if I sit down?” she asked, and before he could answer, she seated herself on the couch, legs crossed oh-so-seductively so that he could notice that the skin of her legs was as smooth and buffed as the rest of her.

His good eye rested on her legs and then rose up to her face and, sadly, he knew exactly what she was doing. Brooke crossed her arms over her chest, not defensively, not at all.

“Make yourself at home,” he offered, taking the chair opposite her and she studied him, noticing the changes. He was shaving, a tiny nick under his scar, and his hair had been cut. Some of the scruffiness was gone, and she realized that she wasn’t the only one who had gotten some polish.

“What are you working on now?” she asked, a poor attempt at conversation because, despite her newfound confidence, her man-handling skills weren’t nearly as good as she needed them to be.

“Automatic garage-door monitor for Ernestine Landry. She forgets and leaves the door up at night. I put up a signal in her bedroom. Green is shut. Red is up.”

“I’m glad you’re getting out more.”

“Not that much.”

“Still.” She picked up the decorative throw pillow on the sofa and smiled. “It’s nice. The place looks…friendlier.”

“Thank you.”

She sat there for a few more minutes, acknowledging that her man-handling skills were crap, and finally she rose and smoothed the dress’s tight skirt over her thighs. “I should go.”

He didn’t argue with her and showed her to the door, but then Brooke faced him because she’d never felt so mouth-wateringly gorgeous, so ready to live a grand life. He wasn’t supposed to be able to ignore her. Not the Captain.

Like always, she reached up and pressed a kiss on his cheek, and then his arms were around her, and he was kissing her urgently. With a laugh, she tangled her hands in his hair, hearing a low hungry growl in this throat. His hands slid under her dress, tugging the material up because it had been too long, and tonight she wanted him to fill her.

Like always, her legs parted, and she didn’t think he noticed that she was smooth and buffed. Like always, his hands gripped her, cupping her to him and she smiled against his lips, her thighs cradling his heavy cock, feeling a surge of desire filling her sex, a surge of emotion filling her heart. For Brooke, this was home. He was the only home she had.

She raised her head, opened her eyes, and her fingers moved to the buttons down the front of her dress. “I want to do this for you.”

The Captain stepped back, his breathing ragged, his erection straining against his jeans, his face flushed with everything he wouldn’t admit, but it was the steady look in his eye that defeated her. It didn’t matter how pretty she was, or how buffed she was, or how much he wanted her. For the Captain, it would never be enough.

“Brooke,” he began and quickly she shook her head.

“No. This is no more than what was always between us,” she promised. She slid the top buttons open, revealing the satin bra beneath. “I bought it for you. I wanted to see your face when I showed it to you.”

It wasn’t lust on his face, but caution.

“Don’t do this,” he warned, but she didn’t listen, because she didn’t want to listen. She wanted the sparks and the fire and all those things that normal people were supposed to have. She wanted his mouth on hers, she wanted to feel him hard between her thighs. What the hell was wrong with that?

She made a move to slide off her bra, but he stopped her with strong hands, unshakable hands.

“Stop. You have no idea how beautiful you are. How perfect you look in silk and pearls.”

She could hear the pain in his voice, but it didn’t matter. Not when he was throwing her away. Not when he was throwing them away. “I did it for you,” she pleaded.

“No. You did this for you. You need to know who you are, what you’re capable of. You have a shot, Brooke. Don’t waste it on me.”

“Waste it?” she said, her voice loud in the quiet room. “This is right. We are right. I love you, Captain.”

“Jason. My name is Jason. You should learn it. You should use it.”

Why couldn’t he see?
“You don’t understand. You will always be a captain to me. My Captain.”

Sadly he shook his head. “You just started getting your training wheels, Brooke. You’re finally where you want to be. Live that life. You deserve that life.”

“I deserve more. The bravest. The most noble, the most honorable. The best of them all.”

“Then go find him.”

They weren’t the words that she’d dreamed of, and in that instant she hated the expensive bra and the smooth, buffed skin and everything that she had done. She wanted to hurt him, wanted to throw the words back in his face, but instead she pulled down her black skirt, buttoned up the luxurious silk of her dress and turned to him because she would not lie. No more lies. He’d taught her that. He thought she needed to search for the best and the bravest?

She looked at him, eyes filled with tears, her voice filled with anger.

“He’s already here.”

J
ASON STOOD IN THE DOORWAY
for a long, long time thinking that she’d come back, but eventually the darkness swallowed her up and he could hear the fading sound of the rattling cylinders of her engine and he knew she wasn’t coming back.

He closed the door, turned out the lights, and Dog whirled next to him, bright LED eyes that never saw, never felt, never loved. It was the cold comfort that he’d always craved.

For the first time, though, cold comfort wasn’t enough.

F
ORTUNATELY FOR
B
ROOKE
, the days before the wedding passed quickly. During the days, she would work at the courthouse, and at night she stayed at Gillian’s house until late, doing whatever was necessary to make sure that her future sister-in-law stayed sane. Brooke had never imagined the stress involved in planning a wedding, and each day she watched Gillian decline into what Austen termed “Bridezilla.”

Sometimes Austen and Gillian would go for a drive, and Brooke would stay behind with Gillian’s parents, doing what she could to help, and puzzling over the odd dynamics of this family thing.

It wasn’t exactly what she expected. There were arguments and times that she’d rush off to her room at the Inn, soaking in the tiny bathtub, crying at the late-night movies on TV. Sometimes it didn’t matter if the movie was sad or not. Sometimes she just cried.

She didn’t see the Captain in town, not that she thought she would, but sometimes she would sit in Dot’s diner for breakfast and hear someone mention his name.

On the Tuesday before the wedding, Tyler and Edie arrived. Tyler was quiet and somber, choosing to sit back and listen, letting Austen or Edie dominate the conversation. Sometimes he would peer at Brooke curiously, and she wasn’t sure if he approved of her or not.

Friday night, before he and Austen took off for a bachelor party, which Gillian insisted that she didn’t want to know anything about, Brooke gathered her courage and decided to approach Tyler just like a sister would, which basically meant cornering him in the kitchen before he could run.

“You look like her,” she told him. “You have her nose.”

He stared impassively. “I never noticed.”

“She was passed out a lot. I studied her a lot.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” she told him. In many ways it had been worse for them. Sometimes unconscious and passed out was better. “I like Austen.”

“He’s easy to like,” Tyler stated, his voice flat and calm. Maybe it was the doctor thing, or maybe he just didn’t like her.

Brooke tried again. “The day in the lawyer’s office. You really got to him. He wasn’t expecting that.”

At last, success. Tyler’s mouth slowly drew up in a smile. “Good.”

“I haven’t had a lot of practice with this.”

“What?”

“Families. I might say something weird, or do the wrong thing, but it’s only because I don’t know exactly what to do. I might make a lot of mistakes, but don’t give up on me. You and Austen are all I have.”

He looked surprised and almost pleased, but before he could say anything, Austen grabbed him by the arm, pushing a cowboy hat on Tyler’s head. “There. Now you look like a fake Texan. People will buy you extra shots, just for the hat alone.”

Tyler was eyeing his brother, but Brooke knew that his words were for her. “I’m in for the long haul, whatever it takes.”

I
T WAS FIVE DAYS BEFORE
the wedding, past 1:00 a.m., and Gillian was in her living room, stuffing candy hearts into red velvet pouches.

“Candy hearts?’” asked Austen, coming to sit next to her, and thankfully, not snickering too loud.

“I saw it in
Modern Bride,
” she explained, which she liked as an answer because people only nodded, as if no more words were required.

“You can’t sleep?” asked her future husband, guessing correctly because he saw more than most.

She shoved the piles of pouches aside and threw herself into his arms. “Nerves. Sexual frustration. I think I’ve had too much caffeine.”

“I can solve one of those problems.”

She drew back, drawing strength from the easy confidence in his eyes. “I want it to be perfect.”

“I thought it was always perfect,” he teased.

“The wedding, not the sex.”

“Okay. I can live with that.”

She glared at him, signaling that this was important.

“The wedding’s going to be perfect,” he assured her.

She picked up a candy heart and popped it in her mouth, until she remembered that she hadn’t run today and she couldn’t afford the calories. “I’m worried.”

“We could always elope,” he said as he pulled her into his arms, squeezing tight, and she stayed there a moment, temporarily considering the idea. “It’s going to be great,” he promised.

“It’s Jason.”

“Kincaid? Why are we talking about Jason Kincaid?” he asked, his hand gently stroking her hair.

“He has to be at the wedding. She loves him. He loves her, but he’s being very stubborn.”

His hand stilled. “Who loves him?”

“Your sister. Can’t you tell?”

“Most likely you’re just so much in love that you’re seeing it everywhere.”

“Don’t be a tool,” she warned, because after four cups of coffee, teasing would not be tolerated.

“Only your tool, darling. Only yours.”

She lifted her head, giving him the full force of the Gillian Wanamaker gaze. “You’ll get him there?”

“I’m no miracle worker.” He looked doubtful, and it tugged at her heart that he still didn’t know how many miracles he’d performed.

Gently she kissed him, feeling the same jump in her pulse as though she were sixteen all over again. “You keep telling me that like I’m supposed to believe it. Stop being silly, sweetheart, and make me forget all this.”

He pushed her down on the couch, quiet, so as not to wake anyone else, and he kissed her like they were sixteen all over again and nothing else existed.

“Soon, Gillian Wanamaker. Very soon, and then you’re all mine,” he whispered.

“Stop being silly, sweetheart. I was yours all along.”

B
ROOKE HAD BEEN TO
exactly two weddings in her life. Jessica Price’s, who had been Dr. Knox’s cleaning lady at the chiropractic office, and there was the New Year’s Eve in Chicago when she had been paid thirty dollars to be part of the well-wishers at a civil ceremony. Yet, in spite of her less than ideal experiences, Brooke still possessed those girly dreams of huge bouquets of flowers and pink-pearled ribbons and long white dresses. It was completely unsurprising that Gillian had those same girly dreams, as well.

The morning of Gillian and Austen’s wedding, the chapel had been transformed into the culmination of Gillian’s dreams. The room smelled of lilacs and magic and happily-ever-afters. For one quiet minute, Brooke stood alone in the church, waiting for the magic to seep into her soul. There were always dreams to be found, but now she knew that sometimes dreams lurked in unexpected places. Sometimes magic could be found locked behind black metal gates, hidden among old lumber and engines. Sometimes dreams could be buried behind a black eyepatch and a scarred profile, because those places—the places where hearts feared to tread—hid the most fragile of dreams.

She wrapped her arms around herself, holding those fragile dreams inside her. Gillian would have her magical day, and Brooke was happy for her, and today, of all days, she was going to laugh and sigh and be the perfect wedding guest because this was her family now. This was her life.

Back in the bridal room, Modine Wanamaker was fussing with Gillian’s hair, and Mindy had her camera, recording the day for posterity. In the corner stood the flower girl, Carmelita Ruiz’s daughter, who was sucking her thumb, eyes large with wonder, because all girls dreamed of huge bouquets of flowers and pink-pearled ribbons.

As for the bride, Gillian looked panicked, and Brooke knew just what to say. “The pianist is already here, all the music is accounted for. The flowers are set up—including the lilacs—the cakes and the food are being put out in the reception hall. The photographer has been here for three hours. Austen and Tyler are in the back, fully dressed, but the groom looks appropriately pale. The preacher isn’t here yet, but he had his hospital visits this afternoon, so he’s not expected for another half-hour, and you look like a dream.”

The panic on Gillian’s face disappeared, replaced by the normal resolve. “Wow. I didn’t realize how close I was to actually throwing up. This is better. This is good.” She flashed Brooke a grateful smile. “You know, I’m glad that Austen had a long-lost sister instead of a long-lost brother, because right now, I need all the support I can get.”

Impulsively Brooke hugged her, and then Gillian whispered in her ear. “Someday we’ll do this for you, little sister. Just you wait.”

J
ASON PLANTED HIMSELF
in a secluded corner outside the church, pacing back and forth, watching the people enter through the wooden doors, people who had no strong fears of entering a church or dressing in a suit or mingling among the masses. Max would be laughing at him now, telling him that a soldier feared nothing. Since Max had feared nothing and gotten blown up in the process, it probably wasn’t the best advice.

However, Brooke Hart was inside that church, and if Jason wanted her, if he wanted a real life, it was time to give up the fears, and hopefully not get blown up in the process.

He could hear the ghost of Max’s laughter, he could see the familiar face of his father, and Jason looked up to the blue, blue sky, felt the warmth of the sun on his skin and then put a hand on the door, wincing at the loud, creaking sound.

Bring the heat, bring the stupid. It was the Army way.

B
ROOKE KNEW THE SECOND
he walked in the church. From her spot in the second pew, she couldn’t see him, but she heard the creak of the door. All eyes were on the bride and groom, who were exchanging their vows.

All eyes except for one. Her skin tingled with awareness, and the air crackled with the magic that had been missing before. Brooke’s mouth curved into a contented smile because in a world of love songs and poetic vows, Brooke believed that it was the smallest steps that meant the most.

T
HE RECEPTION HALL
was filled with people dancing, along the walls buffet tables were laden with food and Brooke waited patiently for the Captain to appear.

It didn’t take long. He presented himself in front of her, handsome in a black suit which made his eye patch and scar seem dashing.

“May I have this dance?” he asked, waiting until she nodded, before sweeping her into his arms. A smaltzy love song played over the speakers, but Brooke thought it was perfect.

“I like your suit. Is it new?”

“I bought it for you.” Such simple words, but the look in his gaze was anything but. She told herself not to get carried away though his words and the dance were all too much, so she burrowed her head on his shoulder, admitting it was a lot nicer than his pillow, which she’d accidentally stolen.

“It was a lovely ceremony. I cried at the end.” She unburrowed her head, and looked up at him. “Why didn’t you tell me the lawyer called? Mr. Hadley said he spoke to you.”

The Captain murmured something uncomplimentary about Mr. Hadley. “I didn’t want you to leave. I knew you would, but I didn’t want it.”

“I would have stayed if you had asked.”

“I know, but it wouldn’t have been right. You depended on me too much, and I wasn’t comfortable with that.”

“I will always depend on you. I’m sorry.”

“I love you.”

“I know.” She looked around, and noticed the attention they were getting. For once she didn’t mind. “They’re staring.”

“It’s a good thing I’m half blind,” he told her, his mouth in a nervous smile, then turning down in a frown. “Brooke, they’re staring because I’m the Boo Radley of this town. All my own doing, I fully admit that, but you can’t do this. I’m the guy who scavenges the junkyards and the scrap yard, picking up the things that everyone threw out.”

She reached up to sooth the frown, and made a silent vow to make him happy because he deserved to be happy. Every day he thought nothing of all the things that he did, all the people that he helped, but in this, Brooke knew that the world depended on the Captain, just as she did.

“I spent my life living in the trash, but you were the first person who ever pulled me out and dusted me off and treated me with respect. I never understood how important that is. Loving me for me. It’s not something I’m ever going to forget, and it’s why I love you, and why I will always love you. No one else in the world can ever do that for me.”

Right then, the song changed and Celine Dion came on, and the dancing slowed and Brooke locked her arms around his neck and kissed him. It was a long and forever kind of kiss, a floating-on-the-ice kiss, and she knew that everyone was staring and she didn’t care.

Finally, at long last, Brooke Hart was home.