If Someday Never Comes

Chapter 24

Brooks's POV 

I dragged my feet up the steps to my apartment slowly. They feel like they weigh 1,000 lbs. 

Today was a long day, and even though it was Friday night, I knew my weekend wouldn't be much different. I felt cross-eyed and tense after I spent hours on the computer going over blueprints for the project remodels on the apartment buildings downtown, reviewing invoices before they were sent out, and going through the 20,000 unanswered emails sitting in my inbox barely making a dent in any of it because I couldn't stop myself from needling through Sydney's proposal for the cafe that she had emailed to me mid-week. Not because I felt like changes needed to be made but because I wanted to start putting together a plan of how to approach this project, effectively. It made me excited to do my job again, even though it was a distraction I couldn't afford, it was like I couldn't help myself. 

I ended up making 5 whole pages of notes that I wanted to discuss with her and yet instead of emailing it like I would with any other business partner I clutched the notebook in my hand like it was breathing life into me..because as much as I hated to admit it, it was. Which made me more frustrated. Sydney had this warmth about her that even her ideas began to melt the walls that I had built within me, it felt like a drug, yet the reward seemed to outweigh the risk. 

As I stepped through the door I was met with a withering glare from Courtney as she sat at the bar in my kitchen, a glass of white wine in hand. 

"Well, nice of you to show up." she snipped. 

I glanced down at my watch. It was 8 pm, which wasn't unusual for me and yet her pissed-off look told me I was missing something. "Did we have plans?" 

"No, but it would be nice if you would try and make some. We never go out anymore Brooks," she whines. 

"Court, you know how busy I am. What do you want from me?" 

"Some fucking attention would be nice." she snaps. 

I take a deep breath. She's right. I'm an asshole and yet she still sticks around even if I think deep down it's only for my bank account I still could put in a little more effort. "I'm sorry." 

"Well, I'm hungry. Can we go out?" she picks up her glass and finishes the wine swishing it around. "There's this new place in Fishers that I heard serves a selective menu and a great after-hours club in the basement!" her eyes gleam and my stomach churns. 

"Can't we just stay in and cook, hang out, maybe watch a movie, I'm fucking beat," I say as I walk towards her and dump my wallet, keys, notebook, and briefcase on the island as I reach for the fridge to see what I actually have to cook. 

"Seriously?!" she whines again but this time sounding more shrill...I'll take that as a no.

 I slam the fridge shut. 

"I'll go shower," and I head to the bathroom as the steam rolls off my body and the exhaustion weighs down my muscles. 

Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. 

I straightened my shoulders and allowed the water to wash away as much of the tension as it could. 

After getting dressed I put on a tense smile and walked into the kitchen, "Ready?" I asked but was stopped in my tracks as I saw Courtney nose-deep into my notebook of ideas for The Graveyard. Her eyes glared as she looked up at me. 

"What the fuck is this Brooks?" 

I reach for the notebook and quickly pull it from her long manicured fingers. "My private property to begin with and secondly it's ideas for a new project at work." 

"One for Syndey fucking Graves!" she nearly screams. 

I clench my jaw, "It's a business arrangement for Lucy's place. She came in, presented to the board and we decided to proceed. It's a good idea and the town could utilize a coffee shop." 

"Oh, screw all the talk about the town." she stands to her full height, which is nearly as tall as mine, "This is about her and you know it," she points her long, sharp, blood-red nail in my direction. 

"No. It's not. I'm only going to be a part of the construction process and then will simply be a silent partner." I keep my voice steady as my heart hammers in my chest. 

"Bullshit." she seethes. I've never seen Courtney so upset. It's almost nice to see emotion under the shiny veneer she normally sports. Maybe were more alike than I've ever recognized. It's probably why we're still together. We fake it well. "You've always been a whipped little puppy when it comes to her." she tosses her long arms in the air, "She waltzes into town after all these years and here you are her knight and shining armor coming to the rescue." 

I don't say anything I just stare at her with a blank expression. Then say slowly, "I'm no knight and shining armor. You of all people should know that." 

"Oh, I do. Trust me and I like it that way. This," she gestures between the two of us, " is easy and convenient for us both, so don't go and wreck it all because you've forgotten who you are. You aren't some young, dumb boy anymore Brooks. You're a fucking man, so act like one," she lets out with a huff. 

I stay silent as she continues, " Your father is probably rolling over in his..." 

"Don't," I state boldly. "Don't you fucking dare bring him into this."  Heat boils in my chest as my fists clench and my cheeks flame. 

Courtney walks toward the door, as she reaches for her designer coat and purse. As she grabs for the handle, and turns toward me, her face hardened, "Because you know I'm right." is all she says as she slams the door shut behind her. 

I feel as though an anvil slammed into my chest, the pressure there so heavy that I can't breathe. I press the heel of my hand to my sternum and try to rub away the pain. My throat dries as emotions bubble to the surface. I blink back the stinging in my eyes and focus on the feeling of my hand on my chest. I started picking up a few tips to deal with panic attacks from different podcasts and YouTube searches because well, I don't like being out of control, and asking for help isn't a road I wanted to travel so as usual I took the situation into my own hands. 

As my breath finally starts to calm, I'm pulled from my thoughts when my phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out to see a text from a number I recognize and the calm that settles over me doesn't go unnoticed. 

S: Hey Brooks. It's Sydney. I don't know if this is still your number and I'm sorry for messaging you on the weekend but I didn't know if you would check your emails. I was hoping to get a key to the cafe soon so I could get started working on some things. Let me know. Thanks. 

My chest warms ever so slightly and then I tense remembering what Courtney had said about me not being that naive boy I was when I was with Sydney and yet I can't stop myself before I reply. 

B: Tomorrow. 9 am. Meet me at the cafe.

I wait patiently for a reply, the three dots appear, then disappear, reappear, and disappear once more...nothing comes through. 

So I throw my phone down on the counter, pour a glass of whiskey, and sit in my kitchen organizing these plans in my notebook until well into the night because focusing on this project is much more productive than focusing on my brunette business partner or the mess I've created with the blonde who stormed out of here mere minutes ago. 

Work has always been my safe place and unfortunately, I've tangled the web of my past with the one thing I've always used to distract myself with, and yet, it feels more comforting than it has in a long time.

I throw back the remainder of the dark liquor and focus on the burn instead of the voice telling me, how fucked I really am. 

AN: Brooks seems to have himself in quite the situation...How do we feel about him and Courtney?