That was all I needed to hear. My chair flipped back as I ran out of my office and down the hall.
As I stepped into the doorway of the office all I saw was Brooke. The anger coming from her was palpable: her face all red, her eyes squinted and glaring, her chest moving up and down with her deep breaths, and her fist clenched and cocked back.
Amber is using that annoying fake voice she puts on every now and then, and I’ve never wanted to hurt a woman more in my life. I just want her gone.
Once I see Amber turn to go I head over to Brooke without even thinking. I’m drawn to her. My body moving without my mind giving permission.
Grabbing her fist, which was still cocked back, I bring it down to her side, not immediately letting go of her hand. I can’t believe she was going to hit Amber. That’s my girl.
Except she’s not my girl, not even close, not even with how much I wish she was, how much I wished she had always been.
When I had left her office her sobs became stronger, and they followed me all the way down the hall.
I can’t breathe. What have I done? She’ll leave. This will be it. The straw that broke the camel’s back.
Over the last few months I’ve been the one she breaks down to. I’ve been the one she lets hold her. I’ve been the one holding her up. I can’t fucking stand how I’m now the reason for her tears, the cause of her pain, and the source of her heartache.
Sitting here and doing nothing while I wait for Rachel is killing me. I want to go to her. I want to hold her. I want to pick her up and carry her away from here.
I don’t go to her because I know she doesn’t want me to do those things. When she recoiled from my touch and spat those words out at me, it broke me. It makes my chest burn just thinking about it. The fucking look in her eyes, it was like I had totally let her down. Failed her. Failed to protect her.
Even with her rejecting me, I would go back and back again for more. I just can’t get it right when it comes to this woman. She deserves better than having me as her protector. I could never do the job that Nate did. Am I trying to do Nate’s job? The lines have blurred, and I’m not sure if I’ve crossed them yet or not.
I care for her. I’ve always cared for her, and will always care for her, but do I care for her more than I’m willing to admit? Is it more than the way a person should care for their best friend’s wife? I don’t know. If caring for my best friend’s wife means wanting to protect her from anything that might hurt her, then yes I do care.
Standing up from my desk, I head over to the bar and pour myself a drink. I throw it back, not even savouring the taste of the thirty-year-old scotch, and pour another one. Taking this one over to the couch, I sit back and rub my hand over my face. I lay my head back on the couch and close my eyes.
I don’t want this to send her backwards. She’s made such an effort here to move forward with her life. She’s been happy, relaxed, and somewhat content. I thought we were somewhat helping each other heal as we worked on Nate’s dream together.
We’ve been spending a lot of time together over the past few months, and I’d like to think I have been as much support to her as she has been to me. She probably doesn’t even know how much she has helped me. How much I struggled to breathe before she came here, struggled to get up every morning.
Since she’s come into the office, I wake up every morning thinking of seeing her, spending time with her, chatting with her and laughing with her. What will it be like now?
Fuck. Where do we go from here?
I have no idea how much time has passed when my office door flies open and Rachel comes storming in. She is breathing hard as if she just ran a marathon and her face is lined with concern and glistening with sweat.
“What the hell, Brooke?” The anger radiates from her. How many more irate women are going to corner me in my office today?
“What?” I ask in a clipped tone. I’m not in the mood to take any more shit.
“What the fuck did that bitch say to you?”
“How do you know what happened?” I look up at her. “What are you even doing here?
“Saxon called me freaking out about some Amber bitch who went at you in the office, and he said you were having a meltdown and wouldn’t talk to him.”
I close my eyes for a second before meeting her gaze. “Well, that’s a bit dramatic, isn’t it?”
“I don’t know, Brooke, is it?” Seems like she’s not taking shit today either.
“No, I guess not. What do you mean Saxon called you?”
She releases a deep breath. “He called me and said some woman came into the office to see him and ended up going off on you. He said she’d said something about Nate being disgusted with you and you were pretty much having a breakdown but wouldn’t let him comfort you. He was really upset, Brooke, said it was his fault.” She lets out a big breath. “I didn’t stand around to chat with him any longer. I ran out of the office, jumped in a cab, and came straight here.” Her breathing has begun to slow, and she seems more together, probably at the sight of me not having a total mental breakdown. Thank God she wasn’t here ten minutes sooner.