A chill settled on me as I grappled with what she might say next.
“It would be more of an emotional punishment than a physical one, because that was just how Marcus was. He never beat me outright, but he loved to scare me, and make me frightened of what he might do. When I went to put on my seat belt, he blocked my hand, forcing me to leave it off. He did it to make me afraid, because he knew I didn’t trust his driving, and because it was putting the baby at risk. My first punishment for the night. But it turned out to be a gift instead. The last good thing he ever gave me. It ended up being my ticket to freedom.”
No . . .
“I didn’t even see what caused the crash because I’d closed my eyes as soon as he drove away. I never knew whatever it was that caused him to veer off the road, nor did I hear anything other than the excruciatingly loud music he put on. I’d closed my eyes and willed it all away because that was how I conquered my fear.”
I held her a bit tighter.
“That’s all I remember before I woke up in hospital three weeks later. My injuries had nearly healed completely by the time I woke from my coma—a badly lacerated right knee and calf, and also cuts to the right side of my head at the hairline as I was ejected from the car upon impact. Marcus was wearing his seat belt, so he remained in the car as it exploded and burned.”
Just like the vile fucker deserved.
“When the doctor told me my husband had died in the accident, I wept deeply as one would expect. When that same doctor held my hand comfortingly and told me the severe blow I’d suffered as I was ejected from the car had brought on preterm labor they were unable to stop—making it impossible to prevent the birth of my baby daughter at only twenty-three weeks gestation. Not enough development time to survive outside of my womb, he said. Her little life was over before it ever began. I cried even harder and longer for her loss, but inside I felt the most intense relief. I rejoiced that she had escaped what would have been a hellish nightmare, being born into that evil family. I wouldn’t have been able to protect her, and that would have killed me slowly bit by bit. The fact I’d lost Marcus’s baby was the only reason his family let me go. If I’d managed to stay pregnant, then I would have been bound forever—inescapably owned by a family of criminals to whom blood meant everything. I owed my baby thanks for her gift to me even more so than her father. She made it possible for me to start over.”
She’s been through so much. Too much.
“So I stayed in California for another six months, recovering. Physically I was fine, but I needed some time before I was ready to come back. I didn’t want to face the many expressions of sorrow and the heartfelt condolences for my loss when it had really been my only way of escaping the hell I’d been in for a year. I couldn’t tell them that I’d hated my sociopathic husband who’d impregnated me against my wishes when I was barely twenty-two years old.” She burrowed her face into the crook of my neck and shoulder, and sighed deeply as if she was breathing me in. “That—that’s all I can talk about tonight,” she said. “It takes me back there and I don’t want to go back. I want to go forward now, Caleb.”
So do I. I had been holding my breath listening to her story, and now needed air. For breathing—so I didn’t asphyxiate.
Holy fucking shit was about the extent of my immediate reaction to what she’d just shared. “I am so sorry, Brooke. I hardly know what to say.” And I didn’t. Christ, what a harrowing journey she’d been on in her short life. I could barely process all she’d just told me, let alone imagine how she managed to hold herself together most days. Brooke had certainly been dealt a shit hand of cards in losing her parents at fifteen, and then this—this—ordeal she’d endured, and for which there were no motherfucking words.
“There isn’t much to say, Caleb, and anyway, I feel your sympathy and that’s enough,” she said softly.
“Was your grandmother’s surgery the reason you came back to Boston?” I doubted there was much to have brought her back here otherwise.
“Yes. Actually, I think it was Nan’s terrible worry for me that led to her fall down the cellar steps in the first place. She wasn’t even notified I’d been in a coma. Nan didn’t know anything until after it was over. After the fall she needed me, and so it was time to come home to the island. Having a purpose has helped me so very much. Coming back here five months ago was the very best thing I could have ever done. It is healing me back into my former self. I’m not a sad person, Caleb, I’ve just had some very sad things happen to me. I love my job, and I love my cottage on the island, and I love my . . . friends.”
“Brooke?”
“Yes?”
“I am so fucking glad you came back home.”
“Me too, Caleb.”
We stayed close in the bed for a while. Quiet and just breathing in and out. Peaceful.
“Caleb, I want to ask you something,” she whispered.