“Oh, I’m sorry.” He was breathing fast. “I didn’t realize we were acting sane these days.” He wore the remnants of a suit—just pants and a white undershirt, like he’d left the other half on my front step. “Speaking of not acting sane, what the fuck are you and Scout playing at?”
I’d known this confrontation was coming, but I hadn’t expected it so soon, or so late at night in my own backyard.
“Scout didn’t set off that bomb,” Brooks said. “She was at Easton’s house. I was listening on the phone the whole time. Remember how I busted in and saved you? There’s going to be cell phone data to contradict her, my testimony, yours—assuming you aren’t planning to perjure yourself.”
I pulled my robe tighter and scrutinized him. “Are you wearing the same clothes? Have you been home once since the day of the bombing?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does. I need to know how off the rails you’ve gone for the police report I’m going to file on this break-in.”
Brooks strode across the yard. With every step, I noticed more details: the thick stubble on his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes, the raw weariness in the lines around his mouth, hiding under his anger. “Answer me,” he demanded. “Why is Scout confessing to a crime she didn’t commit? You know that’s a federal crime, right?”
I stood tall and looked him in the eye. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Scout armed the bomb and then drove straight to theBankses’ house. It’s only thirty minutes away in light traffic. You can look it up on Google Maps. She had plenty of time to be in both places.” Here I was like clockwork, hating Scout’s choice but playing the loyal soldier.
“That’s bullshit.” Brooks stopped stalking across the grass, leaving a foot of distance between us. “And if itweretrue, then you were with her, Isabel. Should I arrest you as an accomplice?”
I gave him a level look. “What you should do is let us handle this and stop asking questions.”
“This isn’t a joke.” With one step closer, he was looming over me. “If the FBI decides to come after you, I can’t protect you. I’ve racked my brain trying to think of how to do it, but I—”
“I don’t recall asking you to.”
“Jesus, Izzy.” Brooks gripped his face and spun from me, then immediately spun back. “You’re shutting me out again. You came tomefor help, remember that? You can’t just toy with me, use the fact that I feel—” He shook his head, cutting himself off.
Suddenly, my armor felt heavy. Seeing Brooks in pain—I was so tired of hurting him, of making him the sacrifice. Our plans always cast him aside in the end.
I melted into my chair. He went very still, watching. “Scout and I can handle ourselves. Okay, Brooks? We’re not damsels in distress. You can stop saving us. Responsibility over.”
I thought I was being kind. But Brooks looked at me with an expression far bitterer than any I’d seen him wear before. “You get everything so backward sometimes that I wonder how you’re so smart and so clueless at the same time.”
“Excuse me?”
“It’s not a badge of honor to be above needing people.” He scrubbed a restless hand over his face as he paced. “I’m not stupid, Iz. I know you and Scout were starting something ten years ago that you didn’t want me to know about, and that’s why you pushed me away.”
I wasn’t in the mood for more raw wounds. “That’s not what happened. I broke up with you because you became overbearing. You were hurt I’d found something I cared about as much as you, and you were jealous of the time I was spending with Scout. You acted like you were in a competition for my affection.”
“Of course I was,” he said. “But not between me and her. Between me and it. Whatever this thing was you were working on, you treated it like a secret lover, lying to me and sneaking around.”
To my shock, Brooks bent down to his knees in front of my chair. “How was I supposed to feel? Tell me, really. You were changing, and you wouldn’t let me follow. You wouldn’t even let me in to understand why.”
He was looking at me so earnestly, waiting for my answer. Those blue-green eyes of his like the ocean, beautiful even when they were bloodshot and weary. I couldn’t help it—I reached out and touched the side of his face. Felt his cheekbones, the rough prickle of his five-o’clock shadow. When Brooks closed his eyes, I pushed my fingers higher, up through his hair. It was as silky as I remembered, even cut short. We sat there, still and quiet: Brooks on his knees in front, my hands in his hair, the firepit crackling.
“I’m tired of fighting with you,” I said quietly. “If you’re here to arrest me, just do it.”
Brooks opened his eyes and studied me. Then he leaned in, took my face in his hands, and kissed me like ten years were nothing.
It was the best of what kissing Brooks used to be, mixed with the best of who he’d become. He still knew how I liked to be touched, but he was a fiercer kisser than before, hungrier, more desperate, a man ten years in the desert. He picked me up without missing a beat and took my place on the chaise longue, settling me in his lap. I was so happy it turned me cold.
“What’s wrong?” he asked breathlessly, pressing the words into my neck.
“She’s my sister, Brooks. I’m going to choose her.”
The fire popped. In the distance, sirens sounded. He studied me. “You don’t think I know that by now?”
I leaned away. “Why would you ever be okay with coming second?”
He pulled me closer. Ran a hand through my long dark hair, twisting a lock of it around his finger. “Because you’re my first choice, and that’s enough for me.” He looked at me through his lashes. “The stakes are too high now, Isabel. I need you to tell me if you want me or not. I need you to mean it, because whatever you say, I’m going to stake my life on that.”
