Tempting Brooke (Big Sky 2.5)

As if she remembers where we are, she pulls away, smooths her hands down her shirt and then walks toward the doors. Micah’s waiting for us. “You can head out. You did a great job, Micah. Thank you.”

“No problem. See you Monday.”

He hops in the refrigerated truck and drives away, as the rest of us head out as well.

“I have one more stop,” Brooke informs me. “And then, you’re off the hook. You survived a whole week of designing and delivering flowers.”

“It was actually really fun,” I reply and reach over to twist a strand of hair that escaped around my finger. “I had a great week.”

“I’m glad.” She grins over at me. “I had a great week, too. I’m going to drop by my house first to change these clothes.”

“Sounds good.”

It only takes her a few moments to run inside and change into a tank top and a pair of shorts, immediately igniting my imagination and waking my cock from its lazy, post coital slumber.

“Great,” she says when she jumps back in the car. “This is much better.”

“Agreed.”

She laughs, puts the car into gear, and drives us across town to a large house. There are several cars parked out front, with a play area for kids along the side. We climb out of the car, and she retrieves a bouquet from the back of her SUV.

She stops in front of me and bites her lip. “You know, you may not be able to go inside.”

“Why?”

“This is a safe house for women and children who need a place to stay after escaping abusive situations, and they frown on male visitors.”

My face stays passive, but I suddenly feel like I have lead in my stomach. Why wasn’t this here when I was a kid?

Would my mother have come here with me?

“I’ll be fine here,” I assure her. Brooke rewards me with a bright smile and jogs up the steps to the front door.

Just after she disappears, another car pulls up next to Brooke’s, and Micah climbs out, frowning when he sees me.

“Hey,” he says. “What are you doing?”

“Waiting for Brooke. She had a delivery.” I narrow my eyes as he takes a deep breath, looking up and down the street. “What are you doing?”

He pushes his hand through his hair. “I, uh, live here. With my mom.”

What?

“I see. I had no idea, Micah.”

“Well, it’s not like I wear it on my sleeve that I have a piece of shit dad who likes to use us as a punching bag,” he says. “There’s no reason that you’d know.”

“You’re right.”

He’s completely right.

“Anyway, I should go in and make sure Mom’s okay. Thanks for your help with the wedding.”

“I had fun. Have a good weekend.”

Micah waves and disappears inside, and I feel like I’ve just been kicked in the fucking face.

Of course I wouldn’t know that Micah came from an abusive family, any more than anyone in this town would have known that I came from the same thing.

Because I didn’t speak up. I was scared and embarrassed, and I kept it to myself.

They couldn’t read my mind. They didn’t protect me because they didn’t know that I needed protecting.

Jesus, why has it taken me all of these years to figure this out?

“Ready!” Brooke announces as she bounces down the stairs to join me at her car. “Sorry for leaving you out in the heat.”

“I understand,” I reply, swallowing the bile in my throat. “I saw Micah.”

She frowns and sighs deeply. “Yeah. He and his mom, Judy, have been living there for almost a year.”

“You knew?”

“Of course.” She frowns over at me before looking back to the road. “He works for me, and he would cringe when he carried the flowers into the cooler. His ribs were bruised. The fucker liked to kick him where he knew the bruises wouldn’t show.”

Fuck.

“So, I talked Judy into taking Micah there, and they’ve been thriving. She’s filed for divorce, and her soon-to-be ex moved to Idaho for a job.”

“But they’re still living in the safe house?”

“Yeah, because Judy is disabled and Micah is working his ass off, but it’s not enough to support them both. Thankfully, there’s been plenty of space for them there.”

I clear my throat, and then run my hand through my hair.

“What’s wrong?” Brooke asks. She passes her house and keeps driving, and I’m glad. I don’t want this shit to purge out of me in her home.

“I know how Micah feels,” I say and hold my breath as she chews this information over in her head.

“In what way?”

“Glen used to beat the holy hell out of me.”

She gasps and pulls over next to a park, currently empty, and gets out of the car, walking quickly to the swings that are under the shade of a giant maple tree.

I follow her, sit in the swing next to hers, and expect to see pity in her eyes when I look at her, but I just see anger.