Page 63 of Heat of Justice

Lia caught the door as she was trying to shut it, as well as a layer of tears swelling up in her eyes. Brooke held her gaze for a brief instant before giving a shrug.

“Suit yourself.” She shuffled back inside the apartment as if she did not care anymore what happened next.

Christ...Of all the ways Lia thought they might reunite one day, this was never how she imagined it. It made her feel even more grateful for the solid and reassuring presence of her wife in the hallway. The expression on Quinn’s face also left her in no doubt as to how much she disliked having to stay back. Hell, Lia hated it too. She gestured to her.

“What’s going on?” Quinn asked as she immediately joined her and took her hand.

“She’s not well. So, I want you with me.”

“Okay.”

“Not like that,” Lia added when she felt her tense, getting ready for battle. “I mean, she’s physically sick. Something’s not right at all here, Quinn.”

“Gotcha.” Quinn nodded firmly. “Let’s see if we can help her, then.”

She made her heart swell. “I really love you for saying that, babe.”

“No problem. I’m with you, Lia.”

Brooke appeared visibly shaken at the sight of both of them walking in. And especially when her eyes landed on Quinn, and she recognized her.

“It’s okay,” Lia assured. “We’re here to help.”

“I don’t need help. Please, leave me alone.”

“We’re not going to do that, so you may as well stop asking me. Take a seat, Brooke, okay? You look like you’re about to fall down.”

When she did, or dropped her weight onto the couch, more like, Lia sat opposite. Quinn went to the panoramic window and opened the curtains, flooding the apartment in bright sunshine. Lia looked around. Yeah, the place could do with a good tidy-up. Other than that, it still struck her as Brooke’s style. Spacious and artfully minimalistic, with random splashes of color from modern art pieces on the walls and a few rugs on the polished hardwood flooring. She fixed her attention on the woman, one she used to love with all her heart. Her anger melted away at such obvious signs of a significant breakdown.

“How are you doing, Brooke?” she murmured.

Brooke reached for a cigarette with trembling hands. This was new, too; she did not use to smoke. On a nearby table werean empty bottle of white wine, a half-empty flask of whisky, and an open laptop.

“I deleted the blog,” she said in answer. “Everything. I was in the process of writing you an apology.” She looked at Quinn and obviously fought for control as a tear slid down her cheek. “And to you too.”

“Good to hear,” Quinn said impassively.

Witnessing the beaten look in her former partner’s eyes tore at Lia’s heartstrings.

“For God’s sake, what happened to you?” she demanded. “You look half-dead!”

“Hmm.” A bitter wince.

“And those emails, the blogs… Do you have any idea of the damage you caused? Or was that your intent all along?”

“No.” Brooke said it sharply. “It was never my intent.”

“Then why?” Lia almost screamed. “I don’t understand.”

“It was a psychotic episode. I know that’s no excuse, but I lost myself a little bit in recent times.”

“A psychotic—” But Brooke was always so mentally strong! “This doesn’t make any sense,” Lia declared. “You need to fill in the blanks, Brooke. Do it now, please.”

“I spent three months in a hospital in Columbia.” Brooke patted her left leg. “Car accident. Broken pelvis, broken legs, perforated lung… I almost didn’t make it. This was followed by a few weeks of rehab. Still need a cane, as you can see.”

It was a shock to find all this out.

“Why didn’t you call me then?” Lia asked as Quinn came to sit next to her and gently rubbed a hand over her back. “I would have come to help you!”

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