Two of a kind, p.3
Two of a Kind, page 3
“Lights back on.”
Reluctantly, she switched hers on, and the cavern was illuminated once again.
“Everyone ready to go?”
They headed back the way they’d come, over the rock pile to rejoin Mavis and Nell, then out into the bright sunlight. Brooke couldn’t stop smiling. They’d gotten off to a bumpy start, but aside from a few moments of awkwardness, she’d had the best time.
Halfway down the hill, Nell complained that she couldn’t carry her bag any longer, and Brooke took it from her, ignoring the woman’s protests. She was exhausted, but also on cloud nine. Nothing could stop her. At the bottom of the hill, she handed the bag back but didn’t sit with her friends. Her legs were like jelly and she was afraid that if she did, she wouldn’t be able to get back up again. Instead, she waited for Jack to thank the group and instruct them where to leave the equipment, then lingered midway between her friends and the lodge. Jack glanced her way and she found herself hoping he’d come over to chat.
But then Tione emerged from his cabin, his Chihuahua, Pixie, tucked into the crook of his arm and his cross-bred bull terrier, Zee, on his heels, although his other two dogs were nowhere in sight. Jack waved him over. The two men started chatting, and even though Brooke edged closer, under the pretense of pulling a weed from a flowerbed, she may as well have been invisible.
2
Jack noticed Brooke lingering nearby. She glanced his way a few times, and he wondered if she wanted something. But when she didn’t approach, he decided he must be mistaken, and took the opportunity to evaluate her instead. Brooke intrigued him. She was pretty, and stubborn to boot. He found he liked her very much, but he wouldn’t let himself act on that attraction. With her designer activewear, sun-kissed hair, and graceful movements, she was too much like Claudia, and regardless of whether or not she seemed nice, he’d learned his lesson about staying in his lane when it came to women. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something familiar about her, beyond her simply being Kat’s friend.
When she reached for a weed in the garden, he noticed that the porcelain-pink polish on her fingernails was chipped from scrabbling around in the cave. Those delicate nails and her pale skin screamed of long days spent inside. Claudia had always been perfectly manicured—including in the dozens of Instagram photos where she appeared to be rock climbing or caving or hiking. That should have been a red flag from the start. And okay, maybe it wasn’t fair to compare the two, considering how little he knew about Brooke, but she struck him as the kind of girl who wouldn’t understand his choices. Eventually she straightened and hustled away. Jack looked from her to Tione, and caught his friend frowning at him.
“What?” he asked.
“That was a dick move,” Tione replied.
Jack shrugged. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Brooke. She clearly wanted to talk to you.”
Did she? He hadn’t been sure, and part of him had believed he was reading too much into her presence because of the inconvenient pull of magnetism he felt toward her.
“Huh. Couldn’t tell.”
To his surprise, Tione’s eyes narrowed. “Bullshit. You could have made a polite excuse instead of ignoring her. That was rude.”
Jack’s arms crossed defensively. “I didn’t realize she wanted to talk,” he reiterated, guilt prickling his skin because the statement wasn’t entirely true.
“Seriously?” Tione demanded. “Do you have a problem with her or something?”
Uh-oh. Jack got the feeling he was treading on thin ice here.
“No,” he said, looking out over the garden so he didn’t have to make eye contact with the tattooed tank of a man who seemed to have taken exception to him. “I barely know her. I know her type though—bubbly and well-meaning, but high maintenance. She belongs at a fancy brunch or in a high-end club, not in the bush.”
“Brooke?” Tione asked. “In a nightclub?” His lips twitched, then he scrubbed a hand over his bearded cheek.
“What’s so funny?”
“Just wondering when you got so bad at reading people.”
Around about the time he’d hooked up with Claudia, Jack would guess. “What do you even know about her?”
Tione wasn’t a ladies’ man. His stocky build, beard and glower tended to frighten women away. And if that didn’t do it, his hundred-pound bull mastiff, Trevor, did. Right now, he was frowning like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.
“Brooke lives here, asshole. Has done for two years. So it happens that I know her quite well.”
“Oh.” Jack had known she lived in the area. He wasn’t a total idiot, but he’d never made the connection that she actually resided at Sanctuary, with Kat and Tione.
“Yeah, ‘oh.’” Tione was on a roll now. “She’s a great girl. Kind, funny, and really damn smart.” Coming from him, that meant something. Not that you’d know it to look at him, but Tione was a certified genius. The kind who could join Mensa if he wanted. “You’d be lucky if she wanted anything to do with a grisly old bastard like you. But for the record, you’ve got her all wrong.”
Jack fell back a step, startled by his friend’s vehemence. He studied Tione’s expression—which to be fair, wasn’t much different from usual. A dark scowl, lowered brows. He’d squared his shoulders, like he was considering flattening Jack with a solid punch if he said anything else less than complimentary about Brooke.
Jack laughed to mask his stab of discomfort when he reached the only logical conclusion. “You have a thing for her.”
If possible, Tione stiffened further. “Do not.”
“Come on, you’re ready to lay into me.”
“Because she’s my friend. You ever heard of that? Being friends with a woman?”
“I have female friends.”
One of Tione’s bushy black eyebrows went up.
“I do,” Jack insisted. “Kat, for instance.” He wracked his brain for more examples, but other than women friends he’d fallen out of touch with, and Erica, who was forced to spend time with him, he couldn’t think of any. Perhaps Bex, his personal trainer, but they never got together outside the gym. “Okay, so you don’t have a crush on Brooke. But her being a great girl doesn’t mean she’s right for me, or that I’m right for her.”
“Fair call. You’re probably not up to her standards.”
He flinched. Well, if that didn’t just hit the nail on the head. Time to change the subject. “Have you heard from Sterling today?”
“Yes.” Tione eyed him suspiciously. “I think he and Kat will be moving in together any time.”
“Good for them.” There had been a time when Jack had considered dating Kat himself, because she was exactly the sort of person he could trust, but she’d found love elsewhere and he’d discovered he didn’t mind. They were great friends, and crossing that line would have been a mistake.
Tione chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder. If Jack had been less well-built, he’d have gone flying from the force of it. “Don’t worry, we’ll find you another woman who likes climbing mountains and has no standards.”
“Whatever you say, Tee.” He glanced at his chunky waterproof watch. “I’d better head back and prepare for the group I’ve got first thing tomorrow. Catch you later.”
“See you.”
Jack nodded farewell, gathered the discarded helmets in a box, strolled across the garden, and paced through the foyer of Sanctuary and out the other side to the parking lot, where his four-wheel drive was parked. He packed the box into the back and drove to his storefront in the town square, located beside the medical center and across the road from the glass and pottery studio. Once he’d unloaded the helmets, he checked that the headlights still worked and that nothing had been broken, then assembled everything he’d need for the next day. Preparation complete, he debriefed Erica and headed home.
The house was silent when he let himself in, everything exactly where he’d left it, and the place smelled of dirty laundry. Ignoring the state of the living room, which he hadn’t tidied in weeks, he microwaved a bowl of leftover chicken and vegetables, grabbed a beer from the fridge, and took his dinner out to the deck, where he could bask in the dying sunlight without facing the mess and emptiness of his living quarters. It was supposed to be home, but most nights, it felt more like a place to crash than anything else.
By the time Brooke had showered and changed into her pajamas, which read “Geek is the new sexy,” her natural buzz had worn off and she was exhausted. The only energy she held onto was the rage that seemed to grow exponentially the longer she allowed it to fester. How dare that heinous man kiss her until she couldn’t even remember who Rosa Bonheur was, or why she’d been so important to future generations of female artists, and then forget all about it? How dare he make her feel beautiful and desirable and then squash that feeling with cold, hard reality?
As she wondered how many other women had suffered the same indignation, her pulse picked up, drumming in her throat like the marching anthem for the sisterhood of women Jack Farrelly had forgotten. She had no reason to believe there had been any others, but she preferred to think he was an asshole than admit she just hadn’t made that much of an impression. Grinding her teeth together, she made those theoretical and possibly imaginary women a promise. He wouldn’t treat any others like they were disposable and get away unscathed. Not on her watch.
Grabbing her laptop, she shimmied into bed beneath the covers, switched it on and loaded up her blog, the one she’d chronicled her journey on since her second heart surgery at fifteen, when she’d decided she needed to take ownership of her health issues and stop living in denial. Her parents may have wanted to hide her from the world forever, but she’d long since known she’d only be happy if she wrestled everything from life that she could. Opening a new post, she vented her fury to the web, not filtering the words as they spilled from her brain to her fingertips and appeared on the screen.
* * *
Brooke v. World: Monday 3 February (evening)
You might be wondering why I’m posting twice in one day. Today has taken a nosedive and I really need your support. You remember how I finally got up the guts to kiss Jack at the New Year’s Eve party and then he didn’t call? It turns out, he doesn’t remember me. How freaking humiliating is that?
He and I shared a toe-curling make out session—the best of my life—and it was apparently so unmemorable that he doesn’t even recall my name.
Please tell me there are men out there who would appreciate my ability to recite the actors from Doctor Who in chronological order, admire my collection of cosplay outfits (and preferably have their own), and who possess a modicum of common decency. Please tell me Jack is the exception to the rule.
Also, sigh. I’m just realizing, I must have terrible taste in men. Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been so stupid. I don’t know what to do with myself—or him. Any and all advice appreciated.
Brooke XX
* * *
She read over what she’d written. The simple act of venting was cathartic and eased the pressure in her chest. She didn’t even need to post it. No one else had to know about her private humiliation. But man, giving words to her feelings really helped, regardless of whether anyone would ever see.
She yawned, her limbs heavy, her mind beginning to turn fuzzy. Time to rest. She hit the delete button, closed her laptop, rolled over, and was asleep within seconds.
3
Something thudded in the back of Brooke’s consciousness. Thud. Thud. Thud. The thudding was followed by the sound of two bits of metal scraping against each other. Ick, what was that?
“Brooke, you up?” a voice called.
She groaned and tried to open her eyes, but she was lying face down and they stayed sealed tight.
A hand touched her shoulder. “Brooke, it’s lunchtime.”
“Mmph,” she replied, her mouth pressed against the mattress. Couldn’t they just go away? She was so tired, her legs like chunks of lead, her arms void of strength. Her head was foggy, her thoughts sluggish. She needed to rest for longer.
“You can go back to sleep later,” the voice said. This time, she placed it as Kat. “But you didn’t have dinner last night, or breakfast this morning, so you need to refuel.”
Brooke lifted her face so there was enough space between her lips and the bed for her to mutter, “Fine.”
“Good.” The weight of the hand left her shoulder. “I’ll send Tee to get you if you’re not out in fifteen minutes.”
“Mmkay.”
Once the door clicked shut, Brooke raised herself up, slowly and carefully. She cleared her throat, which felt scratchy, and pressed her fingertips to her lymph nodes—firm and slightly swollen. Letting her head drop to her chest, she rubbed her bleary eyes. She’d overdone it yesterday. Most days, she no longer experienced any of the symptoms of chronic fatigue, which had struck her down a year ago after a nasty bout of glandular fever, but the symptoms returned when she overexerted herself.
“Stupid,” she grumbled. She’d been determined to put on a good front for Jack, and it hadn’t done her any favors. Raking a hand through her hair, she winced when it snagged on a knot. She grabbed her brush from the bedside cabinet and dragged it through her hair with one hand, using the other to open her laptop. Immediately, something unexpected caught her eye and she froze, brush halfway down the length of her hair.
Her heart stuttered, and her lips parted. Oh, shit.
The post she’d written yesterday. The one about Jack. She must have been so exhausted she’d hit the wrong button. Instead of deleting it, she’d published it, and already more than thirty of her readers had commented. Spots flashed in front of her eyes, and her head spun. She was going to be sick. Hands shaking, she refreshed the page, then checked it to make sure her eyes hadn’t deceived her.
No such luck. The post was still there, along with the comments. She heard a sound and realized she’d whimpered. Sweat beaded on her upper lip. With a growing sense of dread, she scrolled down and started reading. Most of the comments were sympathetic, but some offered suggestions about how she could force Jack to remember her. Her breath caught in her throat. Jessica, 15, from Auckland, went as far as to suggest that she should seduce him, make him fall in love with her, and then reject him for revenge. Jessica’s suggestion had more than a dozen likes. Her readers were loyal and vindictive. Another woman, Amber, recommended she become his girlfriend, make him crazy for her, and break up with him publicly in a way that would make sure no one else would ever want him.
Brooke clutched at her cheeks. Why oh why had she felt the need to vent? Even if she’d had no intention of posting her rant, she should have known better. Nothing died on the internet, and nothing could truly be deleted. She glanced at the clock. She had ten minutes before Tione came looking for her. With clumsy fingers, she replied to Amber’s comment.
Haha, great suggestion! Thanks for having my back. XX.
She wasn’t about to take either Amber or Jessica up on their advice, but they cared about her enough to be angry on her behalf, so she owed them gratitude for their support. That done, she tapped out a brief update.
* * *
Brooke v. World: Tuesday 4 February
Thanks to everyone for the comments and suggestions. I’m a bit embarrassed about venting to you all. I appreciate your thoughts and well wishes, and I’m going to do my best to take the high road. I’ll try to forget what happened and focus on the important thing. I need Jack to help me get in shape and tackle some big challenges on the horizon. I’m excited for them, and I’m sure you will be too when you hear what I’ve got planned.
I’d love to hear how you’re doing and what challenges are coming up in your life. Leanne shared with me that she’s going through another round of chemo, so let’s keep her in our thoughts today.
Brooke XX
* * *
Once she’d published the update, she finished brushing her hair and showered so she didn’t smell like she’d been in bed for eighteen hours, then dressed and went to lunch. She’d hoped to find Kat in the dining hall to discuss her mission to hike to Everest Base Camp, but her friend was nowhere in sight. Instead, Brooke ate alone beside the window overlooking the garden, where Betty, Nell, and Hugh MacAllister, the town councilor, were eating a homemade picnic. Betty was the leader of the Bridge Club, which many of the local retirees—including Nell and Mavis—belonged to. The club had a reputation for meddling in other’s lives as much as they played bridge, if not more so.
When she’d finished her chicken salad, she cleaned her plate and leaned over the counter to call to Tione.
“Kia ora, Brooke,” he greeted her, his lips tilting up at the corners into what, for him, passed as a smile. “How are you feeling today?”
She bit her tongue. When people asked that, her first instinct was to get defensive, but they only asked because they cared. “I’m all right,” she said. “A bit tired, but I’ll live.”
“Great. Glad to hear it.”
“Have you seen Kat around?”
His grin spread until no one could possibly mistake it. “Yeah, and I think you should give her some time alone.”
“Why?” she asked, curious.
“She left nearly half an hour ago, and just before you got here, she came back—” he leaned close and lowered his voice “—with Sterling. They looked like they were in a hurry to get somewhere private, if you know what I mean.”
“Good for her!” Brooke beamed, delight fizzing through her. She liked Sterling Knight, the new business consultant in town, and was pleased Kat was no longer letting the pain of losing her late husband get in the way of her future happiness.
