Page 40 of Unfinished
“What?” I stand, remote dropping to the floor. “Why?”
Tobias shifts on his feet, bringing one hand up to drag his fingers through his hair. “I don’t know exactly what brought you here, Brooke.” He holds up a hand when I start to speak. “You don’t have to tell me. Not ever. Not unless you want to.” He swings his hand toward his parents’ house, pointing that direction. “But I think we can both agree they’re not here with your best interests in mind.” He shakes his head. “And I’ll be damned if I let them make you feel like you’ve done something wrong by coming here.”
My throat goes tight. Again. I’ve gone years without crying, and now it’s like my body needs to catch up for lost time.
I’m not letting it. Even though this is the first time anyone has ever stepped in to protect me.
And as much as I want to let Tobias do that, I can’t. I have to face them. Not standing up for myself is what got me here.
Pulling in a deep breath, I square my shoulders. “I’m going.”
Tobias doesn’t look thrilled with my declaration, but instead of trying to tell me what to do—like so many other people have—he jerks his chin in an unhappy nod. “Fine.” He reaches one hand toward me. “But you’re not going alone.”
13
Tobias
The longer Brooke is here—and the more I’m around her—the more confident I am that I'm going to end up in jail.
The first couple times it happened, I thought Brooke jumping or flinching was just a fluke. The result of upending her whole life and so much of it now being in limbo.
Then I saw the look on her face when she shoved that chair between us. It was pure terror. She looked like a cornered animal, eyes wide and wild, breathing fast and shallow. Skin pale, heart racing. It happened again when I walked in after collecting her things from my mom’s house. It wasn’t as dramatic, but the reaction was still there.
Startling someone is one thing, but that wasn’t what this was.
And now I have to deal with this new information while trying not to punch her father in the face before smearing him all over my mother’s expensive furnishings.
I don’t see this meeting going well.
Brooke takes a few minutes to change into some of theclothes I brought her, fixing her hair and moisturizing her face, before declaring she’s ready to go.
At least one of us is.
I load her into the side-by-side I use to get around the property, making sure she’s buckled in and as safe as I can make her, before getting behind the wheel and backing out into the midday air.
She sits beside me, stiff as a board, fingers twisting the hem of her shirt as we drive across the property.
“You don’t have to talk to them.” I glance her way, hoping maybe I can talk her out of this. “I can tell them to leave and we can be done with it.”
She shakes her head. “No. I have to do this.” Her eyes drop from where they’re staring out across the fields to rest on her lap. “I should’ve done it years ago. Then maybe…” She drifts off without finishing the thought.
There’s still enough for me to make some assumptions.
“Everything that’s happened between you and your parents, it isn’t your fault, Brooke.” I grip the wheel tighter, angry over the way they treated her when she was younger. “They are selfish, greedy people who don’t deserve you as their daughter.”
I’m surprised when she nods, the movement small but still there. “I know.” She lifts one shoulder in a small shrug. “But they’re all I have.”
I want to ask if carrying around a pile of shit is worth it simply because it’s all you possess, but now isn’t the right time for us to dig into all the ways her parents have fucked her over. Especially since I’m pretty sure they’re going to add to that list before the day is over.
So, instead of starting a conversation we can’t finish,I offer her a fact that has been true longer than I think she realizes. “No, they’re not.”
She doesn’t respond, and that’s okay. The past month has been a lot for her. She left behind whatever happened in California, started a new job, has had to make new friends, got a puppy, and the flu. I would imagine saying she’s overwhelmed is a gross understatement.
That’s why I’m here. Because the second shit starts to go sideways, I’m making sure she walks away. No one is going to treat Brooke like shit on my watch.
And I intend to make sure every day moving forward is my watch.
We arrive at my parents’ house too soon. I pull around to an area unreachable by car, making sure we can easily leave without falling victim to any more of her parents' bullshit than absolutely necessary.
