Page 21 of Chasing the Other Woman

It’s Brooks. He’s sitting on the truck bed, looking stunned, holding his arm to his chest. Luci is beside him, her hand on his shoulder, face tilted up to his.

The caption reads: CLOSE CALL FOR STORM POSSE. BROOKS AND LUCI WALK AWAY NEARLY UNSCATHED.

Every cell in my body is telling me to stop scrolling, but I don’t listen to the warning. I keep going.

The next is a video taken by someone on the camera crew. Brooks is still on the truck gate. Her hand is caressing his shoulder. He doesn’t push her away. He just stares ahead, seemingly at ease with being soothed by the young woman next to him.

I shouldn’t read the comments.

I read the comments.

Damn. The chemistry between these two is off the hook.

Is it bad to say I prefer him with Luci instead of Sam?

’We almost died together in a tornado’ is a great story for their grandchildren.

That last one feels like a knife plunged right into the ribs.

An arm comes over my shoulder and pulls the phone from my hand. Petra looks down at the screen.

“Petra.”

I reach for the phone and jerk it back out of her hand. The screen automatically scrolls downward.

Right to a post from Luci’s personal account.

There’s another photo of Brooks’s truck. This time, there’s no one in the shot. Just the truck. The caption is simple, but in my mind it’s damning.

Some days remind you exactly who you can count on when things go bad.

Maybe she meant God.

Maybe she meant first responders.

Maybe she meant the team.

But my heart knows: she meant Brooks.

I give the phone back to Petra. She doesn’t say I told you so. She doesn’t have to. I’m already saying it for her.

One of the clips without the bracelet.

The memory comes back in full force. Brooks sitting in a chair next to a hospital bed. His hand wrapped around mine. The bracelet was still there then, but his eyes were red.

I’m sorry, Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle…

“He blames me,” I say aloud before I realize I’m speaking.

“What?” Petra turns toward me. Some guy near the end of the bar is signaling for something, but she ignores him.

“He blames me for the baby.”

“Did he say that?”

“He didn’t have to.”

I look up at the TV. The radar is looping over counties whose shapes I know better than I know the back of my hand.