Page 112 of I Choose You

His smile was slow but heartfelt. “Thanks, son. I appreciate that.”

I nodded, having told the truth. It had taken me a while to reach that confidence in his choice, but there it was. “Really, I’m happy for you.”

He stood, grinning. “Now only if your brother could have the same attitude.”

“He’ll come around,” I said as he left.

At least I always hoped he would.

Even if he was the catalyst in making Brooke come clean about her botched plans of seeking revenge.

38

BROOKE

If Mr. Wagner hadn’t come in the room after I got Kaden’s signatures, I would’ve eventually found the courage to just be honest and upfront with the guy. I craved his company, but I thought it was best to maintain some distance until I had a better grasp of how he was feeling after I dropped that bombshell last night.

Why? Why did I ever think about getting revenge on him?

His short, blunt answers didn’t warm me up. And he’d all but told me to scram.

When I returned to my office, upset and sinking under the weight of it all, everything went to shit. Todd asked me to write someone up, even though I hadn’t been present for the incident causing the write-up. That employee got lippy with me. Another coworker flipped out at my suggestion that she turn her music down. I wasn’t a supervisor but a head figure that Todd relied on to do these things.

Today, I felt like a harried babysitter, unable to keep anyone else in line because my life was a scattered, morose mess.

If I’d ever had any reason to be emo, it was fucking today.

After countless other stupid little things that went wrong—simple issues that normally wouldn’t bother me—I prayed for the end of the day to come.

As I left finally, I debated what to do. While going home for dinner then crawling in bed appealed to me, it felt like a paltry thing to do. I was restless, and with that energy, I didn’t want a simple, toned-down night at home.

Rena was gone, and I missed her so badly that I debated calling her. I didn’t want her to worry, so I talked myself out of it.

Maybe I can hop on social media and doom scroll? Find one of those blogger wannabe philosophers to tell me when to burn a damn candle?

Instead, I resorted to my only other option. I headed to the one place where I could always be myself with no judgment. Mom was a good listener, too. Going home to visit her was my best bet.

“Hi, hon.” Her smile fell and she ushered me in, knowing immediately that something was wrong. “Oh, honey, what happened?”

I wasn’t crying, but it seemed I looked emo enough that she knew.

“Do you have anything to drink?”

Her brows shot up and she sighed. “A six-pack.” She shrugged. “Or tea?”

This was more of a numb-my-brain-liquor night, but I sighed and remembered the last time I drank too much. I didn’t want the headache of a hangover again. “Never mind,” I muttered as I entered the living room.

She muted the game show she’d been watching as I slumped onto the couch. Instead of resuming her seat in the armchair that gave her better light to knit by, she slid down next to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulders. “Talk to me.”

I heaved in a deep breath and did just that. Taking my time, I told her about it all. She already knew about the time I met Kaden, and she saw him when he drove me here that day, so I mostly filled in the blanks of what happened in between and the recent downfall. Well, my downfall. Kaden hadn’t done anything except decide I was the person he wanted to spend time with.

There was no need to belabor all the details. She smiled and made a slightly goofy face when I glossed over the sex bits. I made sure she understood that we’d been intimate, and that was enough. She got the point. By the end of it all, I did feel slightly better. Dumping all that information was cathartic somehow, like speaking the words aloud released them from the trapped tension I held in my chest and head all day. I didn’t have a rosy feeling of hope, but I wasn’t bottling it all in anymore.

“Please say something.” I grimaced as I faced her. Like Kaden, she was a patient and attentive listener. She hadn’t interrupted once, but I knew she was following along.

“Well.” She hummed. “I think you know the first thing I’d like to say.”

“I’m an idiot?”