She nods. “I told everyone. And it was the worst time of my life. Possibly even worse than the rape itself. I was examined in front of multiple people, forced to tell the same story so many times, asked the same questions that made it seem like I was the one in the wrong.” She shakes her head. “In the end, the detective looking into it pretty much said it was my word against theirs. He said thatI’mthe one who snuck out of my home,I’mthe one who went to a party at a much older boy’s house. AndI’mthe one who got blackout drunk. My mother wouldn’t press charges. She never said it, but I think… I think she believed that it was my fault. That, whatever happened, I wasasking for it.”
“What about your dad?” I grit, pissed off even more now because so help any son of a bitch who ever even tries to lay agoddamn finger on my kid. I’ll burn down the whole fucking world.
“My dad believed me, but…” She shakes head, dismissing whatever else she was about to say. And I know her father died, so I don’t push the topic.
“And this is why you don’t drink,” I say after a few moments.
“I don’t drink and I… haven’t had…sex… since that night.”
Suddenly, my mind flashes back to that day, with her shitty ex when he told me she was frigid, and that I’ll be lucky to get a blow job once a month. A newfound rage simmers beneath the surface of my skin, burning.
“Shit, Pops,” I mutter into her hair. “I’m sorry if you felt like I was pressuring you or anything like that. I’m so sorry, I?—”
“No, Brookes, please don’t do that.” Poppy pulls back, looking up at me, and I see her eyes shine through the darkness, meeting mind. “I wanted last night. I wanted tonight. And I thought I was ready. I thought I could do it. I just…” She shakes her head again, searching for the words. “Sometimes, it just?—”
“It’s too much all at once?” I hazard.
“Yeah.”
I nod. “I know what that feels like.”
She looks at me for a long moment. “Can I tell you something else?”
I cup her cheek, tracing the curve of her bottom lip with the pad of my thumb. “Always.”
“Promise you won’t… freak out?”
I sniff a laugh. “Unless it involves the ocean, it takes a lot to scare me, Pops.”
She smiles, despite her tears. “You’re the first man I’ve ever felt safe with.”
Something tugs at my heart, and I lean in pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to her forehead. “I promise, you willalwaysbe safe with me, Poppy.”
“Thank you.” She sighs, and it shudders from the emotion that’s ravaged her. Moving in closer, she nestles against my chest, and I cuddle her tight, neither of us saying a word as sleep takes hold of us both.
CHAPTER 33
POPPY
Ican’t stop looking at Brookes. I mean, he’s hot and sexy and all the things, but right now, sitting across the aisle from me in this private jet, looking down at his phone, dressed in a plain white t-shirt and a backward ball cap, the setting sun shining in through the window casting an almost ethereal glow all around him, there’s just something about him. I, on the other hand, dressed in my matching compression t-shirt and leggings and a pair of compression socks pulled up to my knees with yellow rubber ducks printed all over them… I am a not-so-hot hot mess.
Texas turned out better than expected. Not only did Brookes shock the golfing world by scoring two hole in ones and surging ahead in the final round to claim the Frisco Classic cup, but the last couple of days between us have been strangely perfect. And I don’t know if it’s my imagination—I don’t want to overthink anything—but it definitely feels like something has changed between us.
After the night I embarrassingly broke down and told Brooke my truth—well, most of my truth—he’s been so different. But in a good way. I was worried he’d back off completely. But he did the opposite. He’s been so affectionate, so attentive. When Iwould join him on the course, he was constantly touching me, holding my hand, checking I was okay. Whenever he’d line up for each shot, he’d look at me, right in my eyes every time before he swung. Even without anyone around to witness, he’s been so touchy-feely. He slept in the bed with me every night instead of the couch; I would drift off to sleep with his arms wrapped around me, and they’d still be there, holding me close when I would wake up each morning. We haven’t been intimate again, not since that night, but we have kissed. A lot. So. Much. Kissing.
Brookes glances up then, meeting my eyes, his lips twitching. “Like what you see, Pops?”
My cheeks flush, and I avert my eyes back down to my sketch book, biting back a smile.
“What are you always scribbling in that thing?”
I snap my head up and Brookes juts his chin, indicating my book. I hesitate, considering myself a moment. The only other person in the world I’ve told that I design and create earrings is Rodrigo, and that’s only because one time, at Vista Palms, when I was wearing a pair, he was obsessed with them and asked me where I got them. I told him I made them, and at first he didn’t believe me. So, I made him a pair, and he’s been my most loyal customer to date, although I only ever charge him the cost of materials.
With a deep breath, I hold my book up, showing him the design I’ve been working on. But of course, he just quirks a confused brow because, at the end of the day, he’s just a boy.
“I design earrings,” I explain.
Brookes’ eyebrows climb high in obvious surprise. “You make them?”
