She never looked back to say good-bye.
She hadn’t told me her name, either, but I knew it was Brooke. Brooke who lived on Blackstone Island and worked in the design studio on Hereford Street next door to Starbucks. She was beautiful and witty and feisty. I was more than impressed by her no-nonsense attitude throughout the night with her boss and the patrons. Brooke was no shrinking violet, plus she had the most amazing voice I’d ever heard.
That was all the information I had been able to gather about her, but it was enough to find her again if I wanted to. There was no if. When.
And it was more than plenty.
Brooke
Thank you, Will. I was racing to make it in time,” I said to the captain as I boarded the final ferry crossing to the island for the night.
“Two minutes to spare.” Will Darlington, who ran Blackstone Island Ferry Company, never failed to mention how much time I had left before departure. It was our little running joke. I think he would’ve let me on late if he saw me running for the dock, but so far I’d never missed my boat.
“Ages of time, Will. Two minutes to spare and with running in heels, I feel I’ve been a complete success.”
That earned me a shy smile and a slow shake of his head. “Glad to have you on board, Brooke.” Will was not much of a talker, but he was kind and very serious about captaining his boat. Another one of those hardworking islanders who put in long hours to make a living in a challenging economy. If you loved your work, as I supposed Will did, then all the better.
Once I found a seat inside where it was warm, I let my guard down for the first time in the past three hours. I became suddenly very sleepy, not wanting to think about the arsehole who’d grabbed me, or the fact I’d just left a shit job, or the lack of money, or any of my problems.
So I folded my arms on the table and rested my cheek on the arm of my wool coat.
I closed my eyes and allowed the sway of the boat to rock me to sleep.
A gentle hand to my shoulder and my name being called woke me one very fast hour later.
“Everything okay, Brooke?” Will’s green eyes looked down at me in concern. “We’re here and I have to close her down for the night. Everyone is off the boat.”
“Oh! I crashed. I’m so sorry,” I began. “I’ll get going.” I rushed to get up and gathered my bag.
“No worries at all,” he assured me in that kindly shy way he’d perfected. “You take care driving home.”
“Goodnight, Will.”
“Night, Brooke.”
I sensed that if I’d given any encouragement to Will Darlington beyond friendship, I could’ve had him. He didn’t come on to me and he was always a gentleman in every way, but a girl knows the signs when someone is interested. Will was nice, really good-looking, hardworking, and an excellent catch for any girl, but he wasn’t for me. More accurately, I wasn’t for any man right now. Too soon. Too much. Too hard to imagine being with somebody again when I was still working on finding the person I’d been before. The person I’d been before I’d allowed him the power to nearly destroy me.
He’d very nearly accomplished just that, and I couldn’t—wouldn’t—make that same mistake again.
I made my way to the parking lot and started up Nan’s 1980 Jeep Cherokee, lovingly named Woody due to the faux wood paneling trim on the outside and within. I was always grateful for Woody’s reliability, because even though he wouldn’t deliver the smoothest ride over four miles of bumpy lanes in the dark, he would get me there safely. You had to know where you were going, or you’d be lost in the middle of a meadow or a wood with only one wrong turn. I always took it easy because little creatures had a tendency to leap out in the night and it wrecked me for days if I accidently hit a rabbit or a night bird.