Truth

I wearily said, “And you’re… you. Reid King—King of Music. There is no future for us. And that’s the truth.”

Reid shook his head slowly, bending down even further to my face. I was suddenly thankful that my heart rate monitor was laying on the floor, because I was certain that it would have embarrassed the hell out of me right then.

“That’s not the truth, Brooklyn.”

“It is,” I mumbled, feeling myself become drowsy, despite my erratic heart rate.

Reid dipped his head so close to mine that I could feel his warm breath on my forehead. His scent enveloped me like a warm blanket, and I almost wanted to reach my arms up and bring him down onto the bed with me. Despite him hurting me, despite the cold words he said to me a few days ago, I still felt weirdly comforted by him. I wanted him to curl up beside me. I wanted his strong arms wrapped around my body so we could go back to our little cocoon of just us.

I closed my eyes as Reid’s lips brushed over my forehead, warmth spreading throughout me. Before he stood back up and left the room, he whispered, “Don’t give up on me now.”

I said nothing aloud, but I heard the faint words in the back of my head, even if I didn’t want to believe them.

I won’t, Reid. I won’t.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Reid

Love was a sneaky son of a bitch. Love snuck up on people. I knew that now. I couldn’t believe that I ever thought there was a possibility of me ever loving Angelina. What I had for Angelina was completely different than what I felt for Brooklyn. Love wasn’t loving the idea of someone, or the mystery, or the stigma that came with alluring beauty or a flirty laugh—much like Angelina had. Love was something that could destroy you within seconds but put you back together a moment later. Love was feeling hope, and comfort, but fear and worry, too. Angelina dug a dagger into my back so deep that it was all I could feel there for a while. But the second Brooklyn came into my life, that dagger loosened and clanked to the floor. I felt more with Brooklyn.

Brooklyn made me feel again.

And the thought of her leaving this earth, especially without me truly facing what I felt for her, was enough to send me to the grave. Nothing mattered after the doctors took her from my arms and placed her on a gurney, rushing her through the ER doors. Nothing at all.

It suddenly didn’t matter that Brooklyn and I were from completely different worlds.

I’d destroy anything that stood in my way from hearing her laugh again, or seeing her happy smile paired with those bright, girly dresses.

Honestly, I’d do anything for her.

Like walk into the Bloomsdale Psychiatric Institute to finally get shit figured out so I could be an actual man—one that Brooklyn deserved—and not the shell of a person I’d been for the last several months.

???

The Good Samaritan Bloomsdale Psychiatric Institute wasn’t anything like I’d imagined in my head. The hallway was lined with carpet. Large frames of different paintings hung along the walls, creating a sense of warmth instead of a sense of dread that every hospital and—what I assumed before today—psychiatric institute brought. There weren’t loud beeping noises from machines or people in wheelchairs staring at blank TV screens with drool hanging out of their mouths.

It was quiet.

So quiet I could hear my own heartbeat in my ears.

I knew I shouldn’t have been there. Darcy would have a freaking fit if she knew, but it was time to put a stop to it all. I didn’t care if the media knew. I didn’t care much about anything other than ending this, once and for all.

I had no idea where Angelina was. In fact, she could have been gone already, but as soon as I rounded the last corner of the second floor, I stopped walking. A tall, older man with graying hair, wearing a flannel shirt and worn jeans, was standing near a door, all by himself.

I knew exactly who he was. I’d never met him in person, but I recognized him.

It was the one man on this earth who’d like to see my head on a stake, but instead of letting that worry me, I kept pushing myself toward him instead of retreating backwards. Hearing my footsteps, he turned his head over to me, and it only took one look before a scowl formed on his face. His cold eyes shot through me as I walked closer, but I didn’t retreat. Show no fear, King. None.

I was sick with dread, every muscle in my body begging me to turn around, but the spark inside of me kept me going. The thought of knowing the truth, the thought of getting my life back on track, burned profoundly.

“Phil,” I intoned as I slid up beside him. He turned his steely glare away and focused it through a small window beside a door. The blinds were only half-opened when I brought my attention to where his was, but if I squinted, I could see who was inside the room.

My gut clenched even harder.

My hands grew sweaty.

A chill iced my entire spine.