Page 10 of The Ruin
“Let’s get the press mauling over with, shall we?” Stefan says.
As we make our way toward the gauntlet of reporters waiting outside the courthouse, I feel a small, warm hand in mine. Glancing down, I see Brooklyn has taken my hand as we exit the building to find a waiting pair of microphones and a small sea of press just past that. Our lawyers move to the microphones first and start feeding prepared statements to the news outlets while my family and I stand back with forced neutral expressions and have our photos taken.
The nonstop flash of cameras going off add an even more surreal layer to the scene. My wife is at my side, yet I don’t know where our marriage stands. It seems obvious she’s not willing to be with me, and I don’t know how to give her what she wants.
I find myself growing more tense by the second, one burning question on my tongue. “Why are you here, Brooklyn?” I say quietly, even though I know it’s not the time.
Because there’s hope for our marriage.
Because I was worried about you.
Because I want to be here for you.
“It was the right thing to do,” she answers noncommittally.
I glance over at her profile, and I feel my emotional walls going up again. She’s stoic and aloof, here physically but with her mind a million miles away. She certainly gives me no indication that she’s holding my hand for any reason other than making us look good for photos. Brooklyn Moss, liar extraordinaire. As if she’d actually show up here for my family’s benefit.
Our lawyers finish up with the press junket and motion for us to get moving, even as the reporters continue shouting our names and hurling questions at us. My siblings slow their pace to give a few comments, and my anxiety ticks up another notch. I can’t just stand around with this fake smile plastered to my face. Inside I’m a mess, and I have no outlet. I feel like screaming.
I need to get the fuck out of here.
Sweat beads along my hairline as I let go of Brooklyn’s hand. The crowd around us starts to shift and people get in between us. Brooklyn’s voice filters my way, but I don’t hear what she’s saying as I break off from the group and duck away unnoticed, heading toward the parking lot as fast as I can.
My rage has returned, and I don’t know what to do with it. My instinct, even a month ago, would have been to start something up with Monica—she’s never made her interest in me a secret—but that doesn’t feel like an answer.
As I finally slip into my car, gripping the steering wheel tight and heaving out a breath I didn’t know I was holding, I realize that it might not be rage that’s ripping me up inside right now. It might be something else.
Something more like heartbreak.
Not just for how bad things have gotten with Brooklyn and our marriage, but for everything going on with my father and my family, too. The worst-case scenario has become a nightmare reality for all of us, and even though I know I should be standing tall beside my brother and sister right now, I just can’t.
For years I’ve been the black sheep of the Zoric clan, the shadow that comes and goes without being missed. My family has been groomed to expect my absence. Why should it be any different now?
I doubt they’ll even notice that I’m gone.
And worse?
Neither will my wife.
Brooklyn
Chapter 5
Luka slips his hand from my grasp and disappears into the crowd. I turn and yell for him, but all I see is the back of his head as he darts away. My heart sinks.
It’s obvious he’s upset, but I have no idea how to approach him, what to say or do to give any amount of comfort. I’m not even sure how he feels about me showing up today. That’s why I’ve hesitated. And now it’s too late. He’s gone.
During his testimony, his distress on the stand had my stomach in knots. The truth is, I wanted nothing more than to run up and throw my arms around him, stand right behind him in the witness box with a hand on his shoulder so he wouldn’t be so completely alone up there. But of course there was nothing I could do but sit and watch from the spectator area.
“Where’s Luka?” Emzee asks, linking her arm with mine as she looks around.
“I’m not sure,” I say. “He disappeared.”
“Something’s up between you and my brother,” Stefan says under his breath, shooting me a penetrating look. “The three of us should talk it over before it compromises DRM.”
I meet my brother-in-law’s searching gaze and force a smile, but don’t respond.
Believe me, I get what he’s saying. Stefan is right to worry about a fracture. This trial is a roadblock to Danica Rose Management’s new future, a future supported (in part) by the wholesome image Luka and I created. My absence from the morning session of today’s proceedings was definitely noticed, and it’s public knowledge that I’ve been out and about with Mateo lately. But right now my only concern is the man who just walked away from me.
