Bidding on Brooks: The Winslow Brothers #1 (20 page)

“I did. I asked Mom about it first and she didn’t know anything about it.”

“And ?”

“Two months before Dad died, he’d gone to see Dr. Fiorello. He’d been having chest pains.”

“Yes,” said Brooks. “But the EKG was normal. Dr. Fiorello diagnosed is as an irritation of the pleura.”

“Right, but apparently Dad’s pain continued and worsened. My guess is that he was ignoring it because he’d already been told by his cardiologist that he was fine. A week before his heart attack, he went to the ER. Probably at lunch time because they have him coming in around noon with chest pains and leaving several hours later.”

“They found something?”

“No,” said Jessica. “Actually, the letter from the radiology department said his chest looked fine. He got the letter the day after he died.”

Brooks released the breath he’d been holding. Another dead end.

“But I went to Kindred yesterday and I had them pull the x-ray. It was still on file, which was amazing, but I guess they keep those records for a long time. I immediately called Dr. Dryer, and he managed to fit me in this afternoon.”

Brooks’ own heart started beating faster. Jessica had found something significant. He could hear it in her voice.

“Brooks…,” she started. “Brooks, there wasn’t anything wrong with his heart. That’s why his EKG was fine. That’s why they missed it on the x-ray. Because they were too focused on his heart.”

“What did they miss?”

“The very faint outline of a partially-calcified abdominal aortic aneurysm wall.”

“Jess…English, please.”

“The pain he felt in the weeks before he died? That was the aneurysm expanding. He didn’t actually die of a heart attack. The heart attack was ancillary. He died because his aortic artery had a ruptured aneurysm. Mortality is over ninety percent if it bursts.”

Brooks bent his head, tears burning his eyes as he remembered his father suddenly clutching his chest and falling to the slate patio at Westerly.

“You sure, Jess?”

“I am. Dr. Dryer was ninety-nine percent certain, even all these years later without an autopsy. After checking out the x-ray, he said there was no way Dad would have survived the aneurysm for much longer. Once the walls calcify, especially in tandem with chest and or abdominal pain, treatment must begin immediately. In the absence of treatment…well, you know. You were there.”

“What caused it?”

“Top cause is smoking. And you know how much Daddy loved his cigars.”

A swift image of his father smoking his evening stogie suddenly flitted across Brooks’ mind and he clenched his eyes shut, trying to swallow the lump in his throat.

He heard the sound of footsteps and looked up to see Skye staring at him from a few feet away. As their eyes connected, her bright smile faltered immediately and her eyebrows knitted together in concern. She rushed to him, sitting beside him.

“Is everything okay?” she whispered, gesturing to the phone.

He nodded, taking her hand and weaving his fingers through hers before looking back down at his lap.

“But Brooks,” continued Jessica, “here’s what you need to know: first of all, abdominal aortic aneurysm only occurs in about two percent of the population. And yes, they can go undetected without symptoms, but a CT scan has nearly one-hundred percent sensitivity for aneurysm and it’s useful in preoperative planning and endovascular repair. And there’s even this new procedure since 2003 that actually fixes the aorta, so even if they found one? You could have it fixed before it ever got close to rupture. You could get a CT scan twice a year if that made you feel better, but Brooks…”

“Yeah, Jess?” he choked out, feeling profoundly grateful for his smart, sassy little sister whom, Brooks felt, was giving him a second chance at life.

“You’re going to be okay. And you know what else? So are Preston, Cameron, Christopher, and me. You can stop worrying now, not just for you but for all of us. Brooks,” she whispered, her voice breaking, “you can stop being the dad now.”

He cleared his throat, but it still felt thick and he blinked his burning eyes.

“Be happy, Brooks,” she begged him passionately. “Let Skye in. Let her love you. Give yourself permission to love her back.”

“Jess…”

“You’re going to live a long life, big brother. Why not live it with someone you love?”

Brooks’ fingers tightened around Skye’s as he took a deep, cleansing breath.

“Jess, Skye’s here. I’m going to go.”

“Of course. You okay?”

“I owe you one, Jess. I-I don’t know how to thank you.”

She laughed softly, but a second later, Brooks realized it wasn’t a laugh. It was a sob.

“My dad died when I was six. Six-years-old. But you came to every recital, every art show. Every time I needed a dad, my college brother showed up. When I needed someone to talk to, someone to give me advice and direction, someone to make me feel safe, you were there for me. You’re walking me down the aisle in September, and that feels perfect to me. And of course I’m sad I lost my father at such a young age, but you were the best dad I could have asked for, Brooks.” She paused, sniffling. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I love you, Jess,” he said softly, deeply moved by her short speech.

“I love you, too. Be happy. Please, let yourself be happy now,” she said before saying goodbye and hanging up.

When Skye got out of the shower, she was surprised that Brooks wasn’t waiting for her in their bedroom. Part of the reason she’d taken a shower in the first place was the hope that he would come and join her. When he wasn’t sitting on their bed with a sexy grin and nothing else, her disappointment faded and she got dressed quickly, feeling a little worried.

He wouldn’t have gotten into a fight with Guy, would he? She’d left in a huff, furious with Guy for mucking around in their personal lives. Why didn’t Brooks have long-term girlfriends? He had his reasons. Good reasons. And the thought of Guy poking a blade into that wound made her see red.

When she’d finally climbed up the stairs and seen Brooks across the deck on his phone, head bent forward, she’d felt relieved—one of his siblings was probably calling; they’d called frequently during the cruise to ask for advice or check in with Brooks. It wasn’t unusual. But then he’d raised his head and looked up at her. And his face…his beautiful face was so raw with emotion, it had twisted her heart. She’d rushed to him, her heart only slowing down when he nodded that everything was okay, but she was anxious to find out what had upset him so terribly.

“I love you, Jess” he said softly, adjusting his fingers through Skye’s and squeezing hers gently. A second later, he let the phone fall from his ear to his lap.

He didn’t look up—his shoulders were still hunched and his head hung down—but rather than pressuring him to talk to her, Skye gave him a few minutes to pull himself together. She’d seen many faces of Brooks Winslow over the years, but right now he looked exhausted and undone by whatever news he’d just received. She promised herself quietly to be there for him, to love him and comfort him, no matter what Jessica had just shared with him.

“Is-is everything really okay?” she finally asked softly.

He looked up at her and nodded. “Yeah. Actually, yeah. Yeah, it is.”

“Can you tell me?”

“That was Jess. My… um… well, she figured out how my dad died.”

Skye’s lips parted in surprise, but she wasn’t sure what to say. On one hand, it would upset Brooks to learn what had prompted his father’s heart attack, bringing back vivid and painful memories, but on the other hand, that knowledge could release him from his self-imposed prison. She tried to gauge her reaction on his face, but he wasn’t giving much away.

“He…his aortic artery had an aneurysm. And I guess when it erupted he immediately went into cardiac arrest.”

“Oh,” murmured Skye, still holding his hand, searching his face carefully.

“It was right there on an x-ray,” said Brooks softly. “If someone had just seen it…”

She nodded, squeezing his hand.
If someone had just seen it
, maybe his father would still be alive today. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too,” said Brooks.

“But at least you know,” said Skye gently. “At least you know what happened.”

“Yeah,” he said, as if processing this thought. “Now I know.”

The barest hint of a smile brightened his face, making him look almost boyish in the dying light of the setting sun—so golden and young and hopeful, it was like watching the weight of the world slip away from someone’s shoulders, and she felt her own lips respond by tilting up in a small smile of her own.

“It’s over.” He sighed. “For years, I’ve been waiting to… sorry, but it’s true… suddenly drop dead. And I’m not going to.”

“No,” she said, grinning at him. “You’re not.”

“I have…years.”

“Mm-hm,” she hummed, laughing softly. “A whole life.”

“A
whole
life.”

Suddenly his eyes focused on hers intensely, darkening as he stared at her. Their thighs touched on the bench, and she felt his muscle flex, as if testing the strength of his body, and he raised her hand to his lips. Holding her eyes mercilessly, he kissed her skin, sending tendrils of pleasure up her arm and little shivers of longing down her spine. A small moan passed through her lips and she felt her nipples tighten under her tank top, muscles deep inside her body clenching, trembling with readiness as she stared back at him.

He bent his head, his dark hair eye-level to her as his tongue flicked out over the skin of her wrist, followed by the whisper of his breath, cool and teasing, sailing over her damp flesh. She whimpered, arching her back a little and pulling her bottom lip into her mouth.

“You want me?” he asked.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“You’re ready?”

She nodded.

“Then say it,” he demanded, raising his head so that his deep green eyes could skewer hers.

She licked her lips, pursing them together. “I want you.”

“Are you sure?” he teased, turning her hand over and running his tongue slowly over the delicate skin of her inside wrist before dropping his lips to her racing pulse. “I was going to take you out for dinner in Myrtle Beach…to see the sights.”

“I don’t want dinner,” she murmured in a trembling voice. “And the only thing I want to see…is you.”

Her breath felt hot on her lips, and her body felt wired, humming like a piece of finely-tuned machinery ready to be used, ready to do what it was born to do. Give and receive. Love and be loved.

“The wind and the water,” he said, standing up and pulling her to her feet. “Skye and Brooks.” He stared at her lips then dragged his eyes to meet hers. “We were always supposed to be together, weren’t we?”

She nodded, unable to speak, letting her smile say what her voice couldn’t as she gazed at him tenderly.

“And you knew it before me,” he whispered.

“Yes,” she said softly. “The wind and the water are in our blood. I
always
knew.”

***

Brooks pulled her below, tugging her hand gently down the stairs, through the galley and the short passage that led to their room. The setting sun shone gold through two portholes, bathing them in soft, warm light.

He reached for the edge of her top, and she raised her arms as he drew it over her head. Her breasts were bare underneath, two proud, exquisite, pink peaks waiting for his hands, his fingers, his lips. His blood rushed and his sex hardened, thickening, throbbing, yearning for the wet heat of Skye surrounding him.

Smoothing his palms down the bare skin of her sides, he pushed her shorts and panties over her hips, falling to his knees before her to slide them down her long, tan legs. She leaned forward, resting her hands on his shoulders as she stepped out of them, and Brooks looked up at her, at the blonde-haired, blue-eyed beauty of the woman who offered herself to him. Reverently, his hands glided back up her legs, as he stayed focused on her face, gilded like a goddess in the golden light.

“Now you,” she whispered.

He stood at her bidding, reaching behind his neck and pulling his T-shirt over his head, then slipping his fingers into his shorts and boxers and pushing them, with a soft whoosh of fabric, to the floor.

He took a deep, ragged breath as her eyes dropped intentionally to his fully erect cock and widened just a little. She’d seen him before, of course, and she’d loved him with her mouth, but she’d never welcomed him into the soft sheath of her body, and he wondered if she had any misgivings.

“I’ll be gentle,” he promised.

Her eyes jerked to his, dark and languid, and she stepped forward until the soft skin of her belly just grazed his ruby head.

“I never said I needed gentle,” she whispered, her tongue swiping over her lips.

Her words were so fucking sexy, he lost it, reaching for her, his hands under her arms to lift her onto the bed behind her. She lay back, shimmying up until her head hit the pillow, and he followed, his knees between her parted thighs, his hands plumping the perfection of her breast, and his mouth landing on her sweet skin without permission.

He sucked and lapped at her aroused flesh, turned on like hell as her fingers landed in his hair, twining through the strands, pulling to the point of pain as she whimpered and arched against him. Running his tongue along the valley of coconut-scented skin, he sucked the bud of her other breast between his lips, flicking his tongue as she moaned. Her fingers became forceful, pulling his head away from her breasts, and when he looked at her, she leaned up, smashing her lips into his, their teeth clashing, their tongues plunging into each other’s mouths. Brooks braced his hands on the sheets beside her head, and his cock slipped into the valley of her clit and finding it warm and slick.

He sucked on her tongue, sliding slowly against the tight bundle of nerves, then withdrawing, and she let her head fall back, her neck taut and exposed as she panted beneath him. He dropped his lips to the wild, fluttering pulse in her neck, licking it as he pushed his hips forward, massaging her clit slowly, and pulling a breathless moan from her.

“Again,” she demanded in a low, ragged voice, her eyes closed.

“Only if you look at me,” he volleyed back, drawing his hips back in a slow, languorous motion, and then pausing.

“Please,” she panted, opening her eyes.

They were dark and fierce, heavy and hungry, and Brooks realized that his heart—which he’d only just learned would pump strong and true for the rest of his life—didn’t belong to him anymore. It was hers. And so was his body. And so was his soul. It was all hers. For the rest of his life. And when she said,
Again
, he’d give her what she needed. And when she said,
Please
, he’d just about fall to his knees in gratitude that she wanted what he could give her. And when she said,

“Love”

he would love her any way and every way she wanted.

He slid back and forth across her clit with increasing speed and pressure and she arched her back off the bed, her ankles skimming up the back of his legs to lock around his waist as he pumped forward and back. Her fingers dug into his shoulders with increasing pressure, and her breathing was fast and ragged, interspersed with the sexiest fucking noises he’d ever heard in his entire life. He started to pant, to sweat, his own body tightening to an almost unbearable point of arousal. And just then, when he wondered how much longer he could hold on, she cried out, her fingers raking down his back and making him flinch with the sharpness as her muscles started shuddering beneath him, her whole body trembling and shaking.

Her face, so familiar and so beloved, stunned him as she climaxed. A flush pinked her tan skin as she licked her glistening lips and let them fall open, slack with bliss. It was so fucking beautiful, he blinked, his body stilling, the sheer magnitude of his feelings, dormant for so long, sucking the air from his lungs.

She opened her eyes slowly, the pale lashes fluttering as she looked up at him, a small, kittenish smile tilting up her perfect lips, and he stared at her, resting his weight on his arms.

“Thank you.” She sighed.

“I love you,” he responded, the whispered words coming out of nowhere and surprising the hell out of him. He thought about taking them back, but even if they were premature, they were true, so he let them linger.

Her eyes widened, then flared to life, all traces of languor disappearing as she searched his face. He cocked one eyebrow at her, refusing to look away, though he felt his cheeks heat and knew they were turning red.

“You do?” she asked.

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he answered. “Like I don’t belong to me anymore. Like I belong to you.” He winced, dropping her eyes. “I’m not saying it right.”

“Yes, you are,” she said softly, running her hands up his back and letting her palms land tenderly on his cheeks.

“We’ve been friends for so long. I’ve always had feelings for you…it’s not that big a leap to go from like to love. Not when you realize that the person you’re with is the
only
person you want. You know?”

“I know,” she whispered, blinking at him.

He realized her eyes were glistening with tears and he leaned down to kiss her.

“I’m sorry if I’m freaking you out, skip,” he whispered against her lips.

“You’re not freaking me out,” she answered, tightening her legs around his back and kissing him again. “You’re making my dreams come true.”

***

The ten-year-old version of herself that had watched Brooks Winslow sail away from the dock on the Prim so many years ago, grinned at her knowingly. And she felt laughter bubble up inside of her as she looked up at him. He was going to be okay and he loved her.

Still on a cloud from her recent orgasm, she took a deep breath, his chest pressing into hers, his heart beating just above hers, his eyes waiting to find out if she returned the precious feelings he’d just shared.

“I love you, too,” she said softly, ignoring the whisper in the back of her head that insisted she should tell him about her mother, that he deserved to know the bad and the ugly before they could truly share the good.

But Brooks was her lifelong wish, her heart’s deepest desire…and he finally loved her. So she was silent, reaching up to draw his lips to hers. He kissed her passionately, deeply, the feelings of his heart manifested in the tenderness of his touch, the patience of his straining body. And though she delighted in his tenderness, she no longer required his patience. She peppered kisses along his jaw, pushing her hips against his.