Page 33 of New River Gorge(ous)
“That’s the thing, though, Brooke,” I say, ambling closer and wrapping her hand in mine. “You didn’t have to try.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her eyes turning to the vista before us. I’m sweaty and sticky, and spent half our date performing CPR on a random stranger, but she didn’t think that was a problem. She made me laugh with her joke about exposure therapy. She’s completely herself.
I allow myself to think that maybe shereallythought I was heroic.
My chest inflates with hope.
She didn’t mind the sweat before when she hugged me after everything, and I have the urge to pull her into my arms, but she drops my hand, pulls her phone out, and begins taking pictures of the view.
The moment passes like the beat of a butterfly’s wings.
It’s an incredible panorama, I’ll give her that, but it’s not the best thing I’ve seen today.
“Here.” I hold out my hand for her phone.
“Hmm?” she says, not turning around.
“Let me take one with you in it.”
“A little bold there, Dr. Whistler,” she teases over her shoulder.
I arch a brow and shake my head at her teasing, holding my hand again out for her phone.
Brooke passes it to me, but as she does, a new voice meets my ears.
“I can take it for y’all.”
“That would be great.” Brooke beams a huge smile at the woman who said it.
I turn slowly toward the voice. I know my ears heard it, but maybe my brain is warping sound or something. It has to be a glitch in the matrix. It has to be.
Brooke’s arm snakes around my waist as she poses for the picture, but I can’t move. I can’t say a single word.
“Beck?” Brooke and Addie say at the same time.
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Brooke
I was too forward. I shouldn’t have put my arm around Beck’s waist for the picture. He wasn’t ready for that. It’s clear as day on his face when I touch him and he stiffens like a starched collar.
I drop my arm and try to break the tension.
“Oh, you know each other?” I ask, because I am an idiot who cannot put two and two together.
Beck’s face is granite. I only know him at a surface level right now, but I know him enough to see that the light in his eyes is gone. It’s like he’s running, or hiding, or maybe both.
“Yeah, you could say that.” The petite woman with impossibly straight and shiny long black hair and perfectly manicured nails scoffs. Her brown eyes narrow as she looks Beck up and down in a predatory way. I don’t like it one bit.
“Beck?” I whisper.
His eyes snap to mine, and he sighs. “Addie,” he says, looking at me but addressing the woman. “This is my friend, Brooke. Brooke, this is Addie.”
I bristle at the wordfriend,then blink.This is Addie?The woman Beck wanted to marry. The woman who planned a wedding with him and left him at the altar.
I mentally do a calculation of how I physically compare to her, and I come up short.
Though everything in me wants to be rude, I stick out my hand. “Nice to meet you.”
