Truth

Oh, Brooklyn… how can you be so sweet?

Oh, Brooklyn… you’ve pulled me to my feet.

There’s no stopping it now.

Oh, Brooklyn…

Didn’t anyone tell you I was a beast?

The beast locked in thousand-pound silver, at the very least.

Yet, there you were, Brooklyn,

Unhinging my cage with your innocence.

How could someone be so broken? How could someone be that jaded?

But now, Brooklyn… it’s all faded.

I owe it all to you.

Oh, Brooklyn… I’m ready to face the truth.

And that truth is you.

I stood as still as a statue when the song ended. My eyes locked on the 1990 stereo I had taken from home when I first left for college. Reid King wrote a song about me. Reid King broke my heart, healed it, and was now handing it back to me.

My heart stopped as I slid to the floor to listen to the rest of the songs on the album. Not only did the words do something to me, but Reid’s voice crawled through my skin and pooled in my veins.

Reid King faced his truth, but was I ready to make his truth our truth?

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Reid

Although I felt semi-healed compared to the last several months of my life, I still felt like there was a little something missing. I knew what it was. I was feeling the disappointment and sting of Brooklyn never reaching out to me—or anyone.

The thought had crossed my mind that she didn’t know how to get ahold of me, but that was a lie. She had my new number; I made sure to attach it to the CD. But then again, maybe she never even listened to it. But surely, she had heard “Oh, Brooklyn.” Our newest single was blasting from every single radio station, from Pandora to Spotify, YouTube, even the small-town local stations—everywhere. “Oh, Brooklyn” had been sitting in the number-one spot for a month now, and that was fucking fantastic. I felt like I’d gotten my mojo back, but every day that passed that Brooklyn hadn’t reached out, it felt like a slice to my chest.

But I was going to be patient.

God knew she was patient with me, and I really couldn’t blame her for never wanting to speak to me again, even after the hospital visit. But I truly thought the song would have at least brought her to me long enough so I could explain how I’d changed, how I’d healed, and how I wasn’t that same empty man I was over the summer.

Angelina was still in the psych ward, and I’d kept my word to her father. I hadn’t gone back. Darcy had closed the case and left her family alone. I never went to the media or spoke on Angelina’s behalf.

It was a freeing feeling—and healing—but the last thing on my list was to explain it all to Brooklyn in hopes that she would understand why it took me so long to pull my head out of my ass. I wanted nothing more than to make her mine. I knew there was something special between us, and I wondered every day what it would be like to take her on a date, or to make her dinner again, or have another mini food fight, without the dark cloud lingering over my head.

Rod poked his head into my dressing room. “You ready? You’re on in five.”

I nodded my head as I stood up off the couch. “Yeah. I’ll be out in a sec.”

Rod’s mouth turned upward. “I just have to say, it’s really nice that you’re not yelling at me to get out of your dressing room for once.”

I chuckled as I messed with the leather band on my wrist. “There’s still time in the night for me to yell at you.”

He shook his head. “Nah. The old, brooding, asshole Reid King hasn’t been around for months.”

A devilish smirk formed on my face. “You never know.”