Chapter 5
Brooke
Whenever I havea Sunday off that matches with my brother, we have a family dinner at my parents’ house. It’s loud and crazy, filled with yelling and laughter, and I absolutely love it.
My dad was at the kitchen table cleaning firearms with Dean and me, while my mother was bending over, watching an enormous pan of eggplant parmesan bubble to perfection in the oven. Liv stood at the counter, laughing and chopping a bunch of vegetables to throw together in a salad. The smell of basil and sweet oregano filled the house, and I knew somewhere beneath it was the hint of a freshly baked pie that someone made earlier that morning.
“How’s the case going with the cadets?” My father’s voice was low and grumbly, and I knew it was for my sake. We’d been together cooking and cleaning for about an hour, and he couldn’t hold the question off any longer. He knew it broke my heart to talk about the two young cadets that were gunned down over a month ago. They were from my command, kids I worked with, was close to, and we still had no leads.
Dean spoke softly to him as I set my gun down. I had just finished oiling it and was letting it sit for a moment. Dean glanced quickly in my direction, but I pretended not to notice and went to the sink to wash my hands.
“I hate the smell of that cleaner,” Liv said, slipping up to the counter next to me. She elbowed me in the side, and her eyebrows pulled together. “Are you okay?” she mouthed to me.
I nodded and gave her a big smile.
She narrowed her eyes at me and pursed her lips.
The woman had been my best friend since kindergarten. There was never any use lying to her, but I couldn’t find the strength to actually talk to her about what was going on with me. I couldn’t put the feelings into words yet, not without crying. And I was so tired of crying.
“You are a big, fat liar,” she whispered.
I looked at my ass theatrically and widened my eyes. “Did you just call me fat?”
She rolled her eyes and laughed. “Hey, you know that math teacher I introduced you to last weekend?” she asked, placing the knife she was using into the sink to rinse it off.
“Um,” I had to think for a moment, “Charles?”
“Yeah, Charlie Denison. He uh, asked about you the other day,” she said with a mischievous smile and wagging eyebrows.
Just no.
Ew.
“Oh, did he?” I said, feigning the least bit of interest I could muster. I didn’t even think Charles Denison could grow his own facial hair, and he was awkwardly skinnier than me. He also asked if I had a Tinder profile to have a “one-off” with me. Those were, unfortunately, his exact words.
“Yeah, he asked if you were single,” she said. Her voice sounded way too excited about this conversation. She was even bouncing on the balls of her feet.
“Oh, who is this now?” my mother asked, cutting in between us and shoving a dish that was obviously not dirty into the sink. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to listen, I was…just…this dish needed a little cleaning.”
Liv smiled at my mother’s intrusion and plopped her arm over her shoulder, hugging her tightly. “I was just telling Brooke that one of the teachers from my school was asking about her.”
“Tell him I’m not interested,” I blurted, horrifying myself with the dryness of my own words.
“Not interested in what? A man? Having an adult relationship? Marriage? Love? Children?” Here we go. My mother was on a roll now. “We just want to see you happy.”
Liv pulled her lips between her teeth and tried not to laugh.
“Liv, really?” I widened my eyes at her. “What was he, like twenty-one? And he’s got a Tinder obsession that I don’t really care for.”
“So he’s a little younger than you, so what? Younger men are fun!” My mother whisper-yelled. She looked back at my father and Dean who were doing their best to ignore our conversation. “When was the last time you went out on a date? And what’s a Tinder?”
“Like two weeks ago, okay?” I stammered. “And don’t ever mention Tinder again, okay? Wipe the word from your vocabulary. Please.”
“How will you meet someone if every time someone tries to set you up, you make up excuses to not go out with him?” my mother hissed at me.
It wasn’t finding a date that was hard. It was getting them to want more than a one-night stand or a three-month-long hook-up. I looked to Liv for a little support. “Seriously, I’ll take a pass on Mr. Math. There was definitely no chemistry there.” I looked in my mother’s eyes and offered her a sweet smile, “I’ll find a nice guy, I promise.”
I was a horrible liar, and I was pretty positive I would die an old maid with a dozen candy-named cats with bells attached to their collars.
