Hooker(84)

‘You’ve reached Brock Weston. Please leave your details and I’ll get back to you.’ Hearing his sexy, confident voice in the recorded message sends my heart into a flutter, despite my disappointment. It’s only been a day, but I miss him.

‘Hi Brock, it’s Jade. I just wanted to say again, I’m sorry about your father. I’ve been discharged from the hospital and I’m heading to Theo’s house. I just thought you may want to know. I’m here if you need anything. Take care of yourself.’ I clutch my phone to my chest and fight back the tears when I end the call.

Please let us be okay.





CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT


JADE

A week has passed and there’s still no word from Brock. Nothing. With every day that goes by my concern not only for him, but for us, escalates. I’ve spoken with Joshua—he came to Theo’s to touch base and make sure I was doing okay. When I asked him how Brock was, his reply was ‘not good’. To my disappointment, he didn’t elaborate. I had a thousand questions I wanted to ask, but for some reason words failed me.

When he was leaving, he wrapped me in his arms and kissed my forehead, just like Brock used to. Tears stung my eyes. ‘Give him time,’ he whispered, before letting me go. If those words were meant to soothe me, they didn’t. They only served to worry me more.

I’ve been spending the majority of my days at the hospital with Rupert. He’s improving every day, which brings some light into my darkness. We don’t speak about Brock. Rupert knows me well, so I’m sure he can sense that there’s trouble in paradise. The fact that I’m being dropped off and picked up by Theo every day would tell him everything.

When Theo’s home, he does his best to keep me occupied. I’m grateful for that. For the most part it works, but Brock is always on my mind. It’s been hard. I’m fighting to stay strong, and not let it bring me down. Some days are better than others, but there are times when I feel like I can’t breathe without him, and I hate that. This is why I don’t usually allow myself to get close to people.

It’s the nights I’m struggling with most. I haven’t been sleeping well. I feel like a part of me is missing without him. I’ve drafted countless messages, but haven’t had the guts to send any of them. I don’t want to appear needy or desperate, because I’m not. I’m used to rejection so this should be nothing new. This hurts more than all the other times combined. I honestly thought he meant it when he said he loved me. I understand he’s going through a hard time, but his desire to have no contact with me during this difficult time is hard to digest.

I’m lost without him.

Tomorrow is Maxwell Weston’s funeral. Theo is going, but I’m not sure if I can. I’d feel like a hypocrite attending the funeral of a man I hate. On the other hand, I’m desperate to see Brock, even if it’s just from distance. I have to do something to ease my mind and see firsthand how he’s really doing. Sometimes we need to put our own feelings aside to help the people we love. He’s given me so much. If I can return the favour in any way, I will.



‘You’re coming?’ Theo asks, when I enter the kitchen the next morning dressed in a black pencil skirt and tailored jacket. I sat up half the night debating whether I should go or not, but my heart won out in the end. I’m doing this for Brock—and no other reason.

‘I guess,’ I reply, shrugging. Taking the mug from his outstretched hand, I sit at the breakfast bar. ‘I want to be there for Brock.’ I look at the coffee in front of me. Theo probably thinks I’m pathetic.

‘Hey,’ he says, placing his fingers under my chin and tilting my face up. ‘You’re a better person than I am. You’re a fucking saint, Jade. Brock’s a damn fool if he doesn’t see that.’

I know his words are meant to comfort me, but they seem to have the opposite effect. A sick feeling settles in the pit of my stomach, because it’s the first time he’s mentioned Brock in days. Does he think we’re over too? My head has been telling me Brock and I are through, but my heart still refuses to believe it. I guess today will give me the answers I’m seeking.

I’m on the verge of throwing up when we arrive at the cemetery. The family have opted for a graveside service. It’s fitting, I suppose. What little I know about Maxwell Weston tells me he wasn’t a religious man. I’m pretty sure he’s earnt himself a one-way ticket to hell, along with M. There’ll be no pearly gates for either of them.

‘You’re shaking,’ Theo says when he reaches for my hand across the centre console. Everything in me is screaming not to get out of this car, but I do. I’ve faced worse in my life, and my need to see Brock is too strong.