Part 12 (1/2)
”Good thing we have lots of ice cream.”
”And whipped cream. And cherries,” I remind her.
She nods. It takes a while before she finally speaks, but then it all tumbles out. ”The rehab center forced my parents into attending family therapy. They told them I won't get better unless I dealt with the issues that were causing me to drink. Not feeling good about myself. Never feeling good enough for my parents. Stuff like that. I finally figured out why my dad was so hard on me my entire life. He resented me.”
”Why would your dad resent you?”
”Because he's not technically my father.”
”How can your father not be your father?”
”He's listed on my birth certificate as my father. And he raised me. But his swimmers didn't make me. He's not my biological father.”
”You're saying your mom screwed around?”
She nods. ”As soon as I had that piece to the puzzle my life made sense. Why my dad was so hard on me all those years. I knew he was in the Army when he was young. He was in the Middle East. Desert Storm. My mom got pregnant while he was deployed. And she has no idea who my biological father actually is. Apparently while my dad was away she drank a lot and slept around a lot. Sound familiar?”
”What's that saying about the fruit not falling far from the tree?”
”It's apples. Apples don't fall far from the trees.”
”You could probably say that about any fruit, right?”
She laughs. ”I've been waiting for this moment for a while. I finally have your nickname.”
I frown. ”I don't think I need a nickname.”
”You have no trouble calling me Wild Child,” she counters.
”That's because it's who you are.”
”And you're the Cliche Mangler. You have a knack of completely twisting nearly every common saying in the English speaking world.”
She has a point, but I'm not sure I'm willing to accept a nickname, at least not that one. ”I'd rather be Mr. Big or Big c.o.c.k. How about Big Swinging d.i.c.k?”
A playful slap on the upper arm is her response to my suggestion.
”So your dad still raised you as his own kid? Even after your mom f.u.c.ked around behind his back?”
She nods. ”And resented the h.e.l.l out of me since the day I was born. He's an honorable guy. He thought it was the right thing to do. And he's always loved my mom. He didn't want to leave her. He just didn't love me so much. Maybe because I was a constant reminder of my mom's infidelity.”
”And I thought my family was f.u.c.ked up. Makes me wonder if anybody has a normal childhood.”
”Harper did.”
I laugh. ”And look how she turned out.”
”She may be a little unconventional on the outside, but she's got a big heart. And she's brilliant.”
”I know she's your best friend, but she kind of freaks me out.”
Brooke smiles. ”How does she freak you out?”
”She's like an old person in a young person's body. I mean she's hot, underneath her weird clothes, but f.u.c.king her would be like f.u.c.king a grandmother.”
Narrowing her gaze at me Brooke asks, ”And how often do you think about f.u.c.king Harper?”
I shake my head. ”Never. Sometimes I feel like Rayne can read my mind. If he ever caught me thinking about Harper that way he'd probably kill me. And then if I became a ghost, he'd kill that too.”
That makes Brooke laugh. I love it when I can entertain her, even if it's because I'm an idiot.
I take her hand and look into her sparkling brown eyes. ”I just want you to know that I think you're amazing.”
She glances down and kicks a stone with the edge of her bright pink sneaker. Not exactly hiking shoes, but I don't think either of us expected us to actually hike.
When she looks back up at me her eyes are damp. ”You're just saying that because you want to keep f.u.c.king me.”
”I do want to keep f.u.c.king you. There's no doubt about that. But I'm not just saying it. Just because your dad treated you like s.h.i.+t doesn't mean you are s.h.i.+t. It means he's the one who feels s.h.i.+tty about himself.”
She gives me the tiniest of smiles. ”Are you some kind of amateur rock star psychologist? Here's the t.i.tle of your first book: Mangled Cliches of a Bad Boy Rock Star.”
”I'm the Cliche Mangler. What can I say?”
We both laugh.
”At least you're willing to own it.”
”Good night,” Brooke says as we stand outside of her bedroom door. She gives me a soft kiss that leaves me craving more. ”Are you disappointed?”
I nod. I'm not going to lie. I'd like to be inside of her every chance I get.
She heaves a sigh. ”I'm really trying to turn over a new leaf. I want to be the girl who can go on a date and have fun, but not always have to have s.e.x. Does that make sense?”
”Not really,” I tell her. ”But I'll do whatever you want. Whatever it takes.”
Neither one of us makes a motion to move. Then I decide to throw something out there. ”Can I still sleep with you?”
She frowns. ”You mean like really sleep. Without having s.e.x?”
”Yea.”
”Do you think that's even possible?” She presses her lips into a thin line.
I shrug. ”I'm willing to give it a try.”
”Okay,” she replies more quickly than I expect.
When she opens her bedroom door I follow her inside. ”I think I'd better wear pajamas,” she announces. ”Lessen the temptation.”