Something Worth Saving (31 page)

We decided on the park, and if they were good, the Pike Place Market and then ice cream. At their request. Whoever the hell wants ice cream when it’s this cold is beyond crazy, but it was what they wanted. Who was I do deny them?

On the way down to the park, I called Brooke to see if she wanted to come, too. Surprisingly, she wanted to come.

Maybe my reason for inviting her was to see for myself if there was anything between her and Jace . . . but also to make sure she was okay.

Just five minutes into the trip to Madison Park, it was evident there was absolutely nothing going on between her and Jace, just as she said. And the longer we were there, the more I felt like an ass for even thinking it.

For reasons I understood, Brooke was losing it. She’d lost at least ten pounds that she didn’t have to lose. With sunken cheeks and dark circled eyes that stood out against her pale, drained skin, she looked fragile. As if words could break her, and I was sure they could right now.

If not on the inside, very much on the outside her pain was revealed.

Her hair was pulled up in a messy bun, brown hair that seemed dry and brittle, and the bones in her shoulders and chest protruded, displaying her need to take care of herself.

No wonder Jace had been taking food over to them.

“Do you eat at all?” Watching the kids play on the swings, I sat next to her on the bench. The morning was cold. The frost tipping on the grass had begun to melt, but the cool planks of the wooden bench made me shiver and wrap my arms around myself. Brooke did the same.

Without answering right away, she kept her attention fixed on Amelia, who was playing with a dark-haired little boy next to the swings.

Gracie took off for the slide right away, while Jayden went from one toy to the next before settling on taking his boots off to use them as a shovel. One at a time he filled them with small gravel pebbles and dumped them on his legs.

One kid was brave enough to go stand beside Gracie and then spit in her face.

Yes, spit.

I was ready to punch that little fucker for getting in Gracie’s face like that. Parent control, people. Obviously something I knew nothing about — after all, look at the little hoodlums who were mine. Jayden was eating rocks, and Gracie had just thrown a handful of sand, along with what looked to be cat shit, at another kid.

“I eat,” Brooke finally said, drawing from my thoughts. I looked over at her, which was painful to do these days. “Just not much. It’s hard.”

That I understood. I was one of those girls that when I was depressed or stressed out, my anxiety shot up and I couldn’t eat. Food only made me sick.

“I started my period yesterday.” A few tears slipped over her cheeks. “For some reason I had it in my head that maybe I would have one last reminder of him.”

It was no secret that Logan and Brooke had just started trying to have another baby, but alas, they never had the chance.

I was just about to say something to comfort her when I heard Amelia politely say, “It’s not nice to throw rocks.”

“That little brat over there better knock that crap off.” Brooke glared at the women standing near the slides, who appeared to be the boy’s mother. She stood tall, hand on her hip and the other holding her cell phone. She was wearing red velour pants. Yes. I said red velour pants.

You’re probably thinking, “People actually wear those still?”

Apparently so.

The woman was in no physical shape to be wearing pants like that. They made her ass look like that diamond-tucked velvet you saw on the walls in Elvis Presley’s house.

With her attention on her phone, she appeared to be distracted, but I knew she could hear Brooke. You’d think she’d be paying attention to her brood of gangsters running wild at the park. She was the only other mother here, and there were ten kids. We had three. That left her with seven, unless there were some here without parents. And seeing how they were all under ten, I doubted any of them were here alone.

“I’m about to knock that kid out if he throws bark at Amelia again.”

That
the mother chose to hear. She whipped her head around so fast I thought it was spinning. “What did you say to me, bitch?”

Both Brooke and I looked at her, slightly shocked, as did Gracie. That kid heard every cuss word ever uttered in her presence. Now wasn’t any different.

“I didn’t say anything to you in particular. I was simply stating that if that child” —Brooke pointed to the little boy sitting cross-legged in front of Amelia, still tossing bark at her — “throws shit at my child again, I’m gonna throw some at him.”

“He’s five,” the mom said, placing her hands on her hips. As if his age had anything to do with it. Jayden was two, and I didn’t see him doing that crap. He might throw bark at himself, but not others.

“Could have fooled me.” Brooke stood, the motion exaggerated and full of attitude she didn’t have, much less could defend.

Mimicking the boy’s motions, Jayden chose that moment to toss a handful of bark at Gracie. She hauled off and punched his shoulder, knocking him to the ground. See? That’s why my kids didn’t do crap like that. Gracie wouldn’t stand for it, and Jayden never had the chance to act that way.

“He’s just a child,” the mother pointed out again. “Damien, get your ass over here.” The little boy stood up from his place next to a now-crying Amelia, kicked bark in her direction, and then made his way to his mother.

“Of course his name is Damien,” I muttered mostly to myself. Brooke heard and smiled at me.

A park ranger I didn’t know was even here came over to us. “You’re gonna have to leave if you can’t treat others with respect.” He pointed to a plaque a few feet away marked
Playground Rules.
Number three: “treat others with respect.”

Brooke just about went off on the poor guy.

When Amelia came over with dirt-soaked tears and a quivering lip, I had to physically hold Brooke back. It wasn’t hard, given her size but damn, she had some strength behind those bones.

“I’m sorry, Mommy,” Amelia said, clinging to her leg. Poor Amelia was the sweetest little girl, and if someone was picking on her, she let them. Gracie was the complete opposite. She’d all-out deck you if you messed with her.

“How about we go get some coffee?”

Red velour and Brooke continued to spew words at each other while I attempted to hold her back and get the kids out of the playground before we had a toddler war on our hands.

“Auntie Brooke is mad,” Gracie pointed out when we got to the entrance of the park, a safe distance from the toys.

“That she is, sweet girl.” I reached down and picked up Amelia, who was still crying, and looked at Brooke, walking beside me as she continued to glare over her shoulder. “And to think I thought it would be Jace who got us kicked out of a park.”

B
ROOKE WAS
slowly slipping away. Jace saw it, too, and I think that’s why he was with her so much. He couldn’t bear to see that happen out of respect for his friend. And then there was Amelia.

The playground incident earlier today was proof.

Sure, I wanted to throttle the little fucker for doing that, too, but Brooke, I had to physically restrain her from going after the kid’s vain mother. Never did I think that I would have to do that. Lauren, I could see myself restraining her, and even Shanna. Not Brooke.

“Are you okay?” I asked as we entered Starbucks and found a place in the back where she could cool down. The kids immediately found the magazines on the table across from us and started reorganizing their coffee shop. Amelia was laughing and smiling, seeming to have forgotten what happened earlier.

Brooke watched them for a minute, and then looked at the menu and ordered a green tea. I did the same, only I ordered a salted caramel mocha. “There’s so many fucking rules at those places,” she said, taking a seat at the table. The legs of the chair skidded against the tile, drawing Gracie’s attention for a minute. She hated that sound. Offering a glare, she went back to the magazines, ignoring us.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you cuss.”

Never in a million years would I think she would do something like what had just happened at the park. Of all my friends, Brooke was the rational one.

Now here she was, swearing, starting fights, and wearing her late husband’s clothes.

Have I mentioned how tiny Brooke is?

She looked like a homeless person wearing his clothes, but if it made her feel better, what would the harm be, right?

That’s where the harm was. It wasn’t making her feel better. If anything, she was slipping further into depression. I didn’t want to tell her to move on, because for me, if I were her, that’s the last thing I would want to hear someone tell me.

I would want to move on at my own pace. When I was good and ready.

Love can make you do crazy things. It can make you hold on to something when you should be letting go. It can make you see things you didn’t see before, good and bad. It can be the cure, but it can also be the destruction.

“I hate that people are moving on. Damn it. It’s been two weeks, and I feel like I’m thinking about him less every day, and it makes me so fucking mad. I don’t want to move on. I don’t want to forget.”

I understood Brooke’s position on that, because had that been Jace, my reaction would have been the same.

“I know, sweetie.” My hand found hers on the table. “I still think about him every day.” It wasn’t much, but I thought I should let her know that though some might be moving on, I wasn’t, and I knew Jace wasn’t. Amelia still spoke as if Logan was on vacation or something, and Brooke, it was clear she hadn’t, either. But some people were. The guys at the station talked about him less. Shanna hadn’t mentioned him in a while, and Brooke’s brother Brandon, who went hunting with Logan every winter, hadn’t brought him up since the funeral, from what she said.

“Should I take my ring off?” she asked, staring at her cup of untouched green tea.

“That’s up to you.” In no way was I one to offer advice in this area, but it made me feel happy for our friendship that she would ask me that. “I think when you’re ready, you’ll decide. Until then, leave it on.”

“What would you do?”

I kind of laughed at the irony of the question and everything Jace and I had been arguing about these days.

Brooke caught on. “Sorry. I just meant if . . . never mind.” Her eyes seemed to be knotted, confused by everything and finding contentment in nothing.

“Losing Logan has been hard enough on you, Brooke. And I think everyone deals with this differently,” I said, taking her hands from her mug, I wrapped them up in my own, attempting to comfort her the way I would have wanted to be comforted. “He will forever wear his ring. You get to decide how long you wear yours. If you want to wear it forever too, it’s your decision to do so.” It made me angry that Shanna would even suggest that she shouldn’t wear the ring, and I knew she had.

Brooke smiled, soft but still, she smiled. “I’m thinking of moving.”

“Why?”

“I can’t be here. Everywhere I look, I see him and memories haunting me.”

“Doesn’t it make it easier?”

“No.” Her eyes dropped to her cup again, and her lips pressed into a straight line. “It makes me sad.”

There was a moment of silence between us and then she sighed, a heavy but jagged breath that caught my attention. My eyes found glossy chocolate brown. It was easy to see why Logan was attracted to Brooke and how much he loved her at times like this. Even after everything she’d been through, she was still breathtakingly beautiful.

“I didn’t cry today, and then when I thought about not crying, it scared me. It made me think I was moving on, and that seemed worse than losing him to me.” Her tears came now, a reminder she hadn’t moved on even the slightest. “Whenever I struggled with anything, he was the perfect balance of perseverance when mine was gone. Now . . . I just . . . I feel lost.”

Again, she didn’t need me to say I was sorry.

We had sat there in silence for a while, watching the children wreak havoc on Starbucks, when we got into the dangers of what could happen.

“I go back to that night a lot,” she said with all-too-sad eyes, a portrait of a woman who had given everything to one man, and now he wasn’t there. Now what was she supposed to do? Live her life again? How it that even possible?

“I think about how numb I felt, what they were saying to me, and none of it made any sense. Some days I want the numbness back. I thought if I knew every gory detail, somehow it would make it better, but it didn’t. I kept telling myself it wasn’t real. I had just talked to him.”

“It still doesn’t seem real.” My eyes fell to the table.

We all know what they do is dangerous, and we hear of firefighters dying in the line of duty all the time, but when it’s real, when that red car is at your door, what’s next?

Moving on doesn’t seem right.

“Listen, Aubrey. I know you think there’s something between Jace and me. There’s not. I assure you. I would never think that way about him, and honestly, it hurts that you would think that little of our relationship that you would even imagine I could make a move on him. If not for you, at least out of my love for Logan. Out of respect for him. Jace was like a brother to him. And I’ve always thought of Jace that way. Never has a romantic thought about him ever come into my head.”

I felt about the size of a flea. And if there was something smaller, maybe a grain of sand, I felt that big, too.

“The truth is . . . if it hadn’t been for Jace, I would have stayed in bed even longer every day, smiled less, and probably starved to death . . . and maybe never laughed again, either.” Brooke wiped tears away with her sleeve. “I know Logan would have wanted it this way, to have a friend, a brother who watched over the two most important people in his life.”

And then came more tears. Emotional wreck?

Party for one, please.

As she took my face between her hands, her sorrow and grief mirrored my own. Both for different reasons. Mourning the loss of a heart that had died, and one dying. “You guys can work it out.”