Truth

No, you’re doing the right thing.

I had nothing to offer Brooklyn other than a whole lot of fucked-up shit. I didn’t even have my own head on straight.

My eyes traveled down to the—once again—untouched food on a plate that I had laid in front of Brooklyn’s door. I hadn’t seen her open it once in the past two days. The knot in my stomach got tighter. I slept on the couch, hopeful that I’d at least get one glimpse of her in the middle of the night, sneaking off to the kitchen, because, obviously, she couldn’t go two days without food. But she had obviously mastered tiptoeing like a mouse, because the hours that I did submit to sleep, I never woke up to her.

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t worried.

I would also be lying if I said I didn’t feel relieved that I was about to hit send on the email I’d written to V, enclosing a few of the songs I’d somewhat perfected in the last two days. I told myself I wouldn’t use another woman as a muse, but every single song I wrote revolved around Brooklyn.

I scanned the email once more before hitting send, wondering what Brooklyn would say when she heard the songs in the next several months after everything was all said and done. Would she be quick to change the song, annoyed that my voice was the one filtering through the speakers? Or would she listen and torment herself with my words—or better yet, the truth? Would she still hate me for breaking her heart and pushing her away one last time?

Or would she still feel me inside of her, chasing away reality like it was my only duty on this earth? Would she still remember what it was like when I touched her body? Because that was exactly what I would remember every time I listened to these songs. I’d remember how Brooklyn rooted for me more than anyone else. I’d remember how she never gave up on me, and I’d remember how she chased away my reality.

My phone rang a few minutes after I sent the email. I answered it quickly, hoping it was from V and that he was happy with what I’d just sent.

But it wasn’t V. Instead, it was a female’s voice. “Reid?”

I stayed silent, unsure if I should confirm that it was me.

“Reid, it’s Jane. Brooklyn’s friend.”

I sat back on the couch, pushing my laptop away from my lap. “Oh, yeah it’s me.”

“Where is Brooklyn?”

“What? Why?” I asked, rubbing my hand over the bridge of my nose. Didn’t she know that Brooklyn currently hated me?

“Is she there?” It sounded as if Jane was pacing around while on the phone.

“Yeah, she should be.” I would have known if she left… unless she left in the middle of the night. I heard some shuffling around her room late last night, so I knew she was still in there, avoiding me.

Panic started to claw at my skin, and I had no idea why. You were the one that wanted her gone, King. Now deal with it.

“When was the last time you saw her then?”

“Why?” I asked, trying to keep my anxiety invisible.

“Reid, go check on her right now. I’m worried.”

My blood pressure shot through the roof. I couldn’t have climbed off the couch faster if I tried. “Worried about what?” I asked, shuffling toward her door.

“Her past kidney issues. I’ve been trying to get a hold of her for a couple days, and she texted saying that she felt like she had the flu and that she’d text me later. But she hasn’t texted or called, no matter how many times I try to get a hold of her. I remembered I had your number from when you called in Atlanta. Can you go check on her?”

Her kidney issues? What?

Sweat formed on my forehead as I picked up my pace. I didn’t bother knocking on Brooklyn’s door. I swung it open and scanned the room quickly, seeing nothing but messy covers and Brooklyn’s phone on the bed. Why didn’t I come check on her before now? You fucking selfish bastard.

“Reid? Is she okay?” Jane asked again, her voice more frantic.

I trudged over to the bathroom and pulled the door open quickly, almost ripping it off its hinges. Then, I felt all the breath leave my body. Every ounce of oxygen was gone. I dropped the phone, and it skittered across the tiles, landing with a thud against the porcelain tub. I hurriedly ran over to Brooklyn lying beside the toilet with her eyes closed. Her face was white—so white that she blended in with the tiled floor. I took her limp body into my arms and shook her by her small shoulders. “Brooklyn?” I yelled, giving her another shake. She didn’t even so much as stir. I put my head to her chest, listening for her heartbeat. It was slow—too slow.

Fear clawed at the corners of my brain as it tried to tak

e me back to the moment I found Angelina in a pile of blood. I shook away the thought, focusing on the one woman who made everything in my life seem okay, if even for a short moment, and reached for my phone. I hung up Jane’s call before dialing 911 and praying to God that I wasn’t too late.

In that moment, I’d have given my own heartbeat to Brooklyn. She could have the entire thing. She deserved it far more than I did.

Chapter Twenty-Four