Page 61 of Coming Unraveled
“I’m sorry, man,” Brent offers as he notices the change overtaking Everleigh as well.
Shrugging his shoulders Brooks rests the poles on his shoulder and grabs Everleigh’s chilled hand in his.
“Thanks for letting us know. We’ll be out of the condo tonight.”
Inside they pack quickly, but Brooks can see Everleigh shutting down as each article of clothing makes its way into her bag.
“Are you ok, sweetheart?”
“Yea,” she murmurs as she walks into the bathroom with hunched shoulders. She comes out a moment later with her toiletries and tosses them into her bag. “I’m ready.”
She may be ready, but he isn’t. He isn’t ready to face the shell of a wife that stares at him blankly.
“Alright, let’s get on the road. We can grab some fast food on the way.”
“Ok.”
They silently walk to the car, their footsteps on the concrete the only sound around them. He takes one last look at the sound across the way and heaves a heavy breath. How could something so good turn so bad so quickly?
She tries to reach past him to open her door, shutting him out, but he reaches for her hand as she tries to slide into the car.
“Hey, Everleigh. I love you, sweetheart.” He didn’t know what else to say when she turned her hollow eyes towards him so he goes with the one thing he knows she feels.
Instead of answering back she nods her head and ducks quickly into the car, a whisper of an, “I know,” vibrating in the air.
Brooks rounds the car with new resolve; he refuses to let that evil portrayal of a man steal anything else from the woman he loves. Except as he makes his way to his door a phone message pops up on the screen from Charleston, and he knows he may not even get a choice in the matter.
Chapter Nine
THE DARKNESS OF THE room surrounds her as she burrows further beneath the sheets. In the month since she and Brooks had returned to Carson, she had been spiraling out of control on the inside, but to the naked eye, she seemed like a hollow version of herself. By the way, everyone seems to be walking on eggshells around her Everleigh suspects that she could have gone into acting and saved herself the drama about to unfold. But, then again, Rich would have found a way to destroy her, to rip apart her tiny piece of happiness, a heaven that constantly feels out of reach.
For a short time, she had felt alive, felt like the fissures of herself were healing tight, little patches of loved ones holding her together, then Brent broke the news to her about the deposition. She hadn’t seen it coming, but she suspected had Rich ever been caught she would be asked to testify. Strangely enough, she was less worried about Rich roaming free than having to re-tell her story to people that would look down on her and think things about her that weren’t true. That, to Everleigh, is the worst part about people knowing your dark secrets. Regardless if she was the victim, they would look at her like she did it to herself. That she must have made him act that way to her. It is a pretty common tale and not one Everleigh wants to relive again.
Unfortunately, it seemed she didn’t have a choice. Because when she and Brooks had arrived back at her house, he began to scoop her in his arms, worry etched on his face, as a young messenger walked over to them in the middle of the night, subpoena in hand. If she hadn’t been so lost in herself she may have reveled in Brooks’ reaction to the papers shoved in his chest. Instead, she had wiggled herself free from his strong arms, signed the messenger’s papers, and walked into her house without a word.
She didn’t know what else to do. Everleigh knew that Brooks would think she was allowing Rich to hold power over her again, but it was the opposite. She shut down to keep him from hanging on. If she had nothing left to give, then there was nothing left to take. And she didn’t want to sacrifice another piece of herself to that monster.
Her clothes were stripped from her body that night as she fell into a dreamless slumber, the type of sleep that happens when exhaustion takes over but your mind never turns off. She remembers shutting her eyes, feeling Brooks wrap his body around hers, offering a warm solace for her fears. It hadn’t taken long for her to hear his soft snores beside her ear and she tried to match her breaths with his, anything to help rid her mind of the anxiety coursing through her.
The body next to hers turns in the bed, reaching across to turn off his alarm. She had wanted to push him away, tried with all she could, but Brooks had proved to be determined. Her chest hardens as she waits for him to turn to face her, not wanting him to see the love and desire in her eyes, that sense of need and emotion she knows he can read so apparent in her.
“Morning, sweetheart,” Brooks whispers as he turns over and pulls her into his arms.
A breath of a smile forces its way onto her lips, but it does little to detract from the concern marring his face, the frown pulling down his full lips.
“You’re not getting much sleep,” he explains as he stretches his hand forward and traces the purple-gray shadows under her eyes. His touch is soft, graceful, and her lids close of their own volition.
She tries to sit up in bed, turning her naked back towards Brooks, but he knows better than to let her seal herself away. His strong hand slides down her back, coming to rest on her waist.
“Come here, baby,” he commands in a calm tone, far different than the commands he gave her in bed the night before. He had demanded her to come in a rough, gravely, voice that had her erupting instantly.
She turns her head towards him, her gaze narrowing in where he rests against two pillows, his solid muscled chest exposed, the sheet crumpled just at the line of his hips. But his delectable body does little to detract from the worry pouring from him. Worry for her. Worry for them.
His hand tugs at her waist slightly and she falls back against the bed. Quickly he twists his body so that it hovers above her, his morning erection pressing against her thigh, but he seems to ignore it. Instead, he rests his elbows on each side of her face and brushes his hands through her hair.
“Are you nervous about today?”
Deposition day. The day where a lawyer will tear apart her story bit by bit without any sympathy for what she has gone through, or without any remorse for asking her to relive her horror.
