“I do,” he confirmed. “I’m here, and I’m ready for blood, gore and nudity.”
“All right then. You get the show set up, I’ll figure out dinner.” Not that she thought she’d be able to eat much. Nevertheless, it was sweet of him to want to keep her company tonight. Despite her nerves, she smiled all the way to the kitchen.
“Oh, shoot!”
Jack glanced over at Brooke, who was tying her shoelaces. “What’s up?”
They were at the rugby field in Te Awa Tui, where a couple of hundred people were preparing for the mud run, which would begin in an hour and a half. At the far end of the field, a colorful start line had been erected. The runners and their support teams were being kept separate from viewers at this point, but they’d seen Brooke’s contingent of fans arrive earlier.
“I forgot Kyle’s GoPro for the livestream. It’s plugged into my laptop back at Sanctuary.” She made a sound of distress. “I have to register soon. I can’t go back for it, but I hate to let my viewers down.”
“You stay here. I’ll get it,” Jack said, checking the time. “I should make it back before eleven.” He grasped her by the shoulders. “Will you be okay without me?”
She nodded, looking fierce and determined, although the color had drained from her face. “I’ll be totally fine.” Stretching onto her toes, she kissed him. Her lips were cool and clammy. “Thanks so much.”
“No worries.” He caressed the side of her neck, reluctant to go, but he knew Bex and Kat would be here soon. “I really don’t want to leave you, but I’d better not waste any time.”
She waved him away. “I’ll see you soon.”
He jogged to his four-wheel drive and fired up the engine. The trip back to Haven Bay took twenty-five minutes, even driving as fast as he could without risking getting pulled over by the police. At Sanctuary, he parked near the door, then let himself into Brooke’s room and found the GoPro exactly where she’d said it would be. He snatched it from the desk, tugged the cord out of the laptop, and was about to turn away when the screen lit up. He paused as a photograph of Brooke at the gym caught his eye.
Resting his palm on the edge of the desk, he leaned over to read the screen. It was her blog. The web domain made him laugh. www.BrookeVersusWorld.com. He laid down the GoPro and scrolled to read her latest post.
It’s not snooping, he told himself as guilt settled heavy in his stomach. She puts this out there for everyone to see.
Never mind the fact that if she wanted him to read it, she would have shown him. This blog was at least partially responsible for her journey, which meant it was relevant to him. He had a right to know what it was about. Especially given how Claudia made a mockery of him online for weeks while he was completely in the dark.
He scanned the last entry and smiled. The writing sounded so much like her that she could have been standing at his shoulder, whispering in his ear. His phone vibrated in his pocket, reminding him that he was on a deadline. He glanced at the time. Staying for a few extra minutes wouldn’t hurt. He pulled out her chair and sat. Then, out of morbid curiosity and a hint of fear, he used the search function and entered his name.
The search returned seventeen matches, which meant she’d mentioned him a lot. He hit the key that transported him to the first time she’d used his name, and his heart sank. He scanned the words, growing colder inside with each sentence he read. By the time he reached their first encounter at Sanctuary, his heart felt like a lump of ice.
Brooke v. World: Monday 3 February (evening)
You might be wondering why I’m posting twice in one day. Today has taken a nosedive and I really just need your support. You remember how I finally got up the guts to kiss Jack at the New Year’s Eve party and then he didn’t call? It turns out, he doesn’t remember me. How freaking humiliating is that?
He and I shared a toe-curling make out session—the best of my life—and it was apparently so unmemorable that he doesn’t even recall my name.
Please tell me there are men out there who would appreciate my ability to recite the actors from Doctor Who in chronological order, admire my collection of cosplay outfits (and preferably have their own), and who possess a modicum of common decency. Please tell me Jack is the exception to the rule.
Also, sigh. I’m just realizing, I must have terrible taste in men. Tell me I’m not the only one who’s been so stupid. I don’t know what to do with myself—or him. Any and all advice appreciated.
Brooke XX
He read it again. Then a third time, even though it probably meant he had a masochistic streak, because fuck, those words cut deep. He knew he’d hurt her, but this blog post spelled out exactly how much. He imagined her, with her cute lopsided topknot and over-sized glasses, hammering out these words with tears in her eyes, and he thought he might throw up.
Worse still were the dozens of suggestions beneath the post from her readers, who were apparently a creative and vindictive bunch. Peppered amongst the more inventive recommendations were a few that struck too close to home. One reader, TamsinG, had told Brooke to seduce him, then kick him out of her room before they got to the good stuff. Another, Amber, went a step further and said Brooke should date him and break up with him publicly in the most humiliating way she could imagine. A lot of others had jumped on board with that suggestion, but it was the response from Brooke herself that hurt the most.
Haha, great suggestion! Thanks for having my back. XX
Jack’s throat burned, and it felt like a rubber band tightened around his chest. He could hardly breathe. His head spun, and his vision blurred. He couldn’t read any more. Awful possibilities bombarded him from every direction.
Brooke had encouraged this hatefulness toward him.
Was she leading him on?
Was their entire relationship just some twisted revenge plot?
Did she care about him at all?
She’d exposed him to the world more assuredly than Claudia ever had, and the blow struck truer because he’d never seen it coming. His ex’s betrayal had been embarrassing, and made him question his choices, but it had nothing on this, because while he’d cared for Claudia, he’d never loved her. And perhaps it made him a fool, but he’d tripped ass-over-heels in love with Brooke, only to discover she was playing some sick game. His fists clenched in his lap and he squeezed his eyes closed, shame and despair washing over him. He felt raw, vulnerable. Like she’d ripped off a Band-Aid and showed the oozing scabby part of him to everyone she knew.
How could she have done that? He’d wounded her pride, but she was a better person than him. God, he desperately wanted to believe she was. Unfortunately, the evidence to the contrary was right in front of him.
“Fuck,” he swore. He couldn’t go back to Te Awa Tui now, could he? Couldn’t kiss her on the cheek and wish her luck while inside, his emotions boiled. But on the other hand, however conflicted he may be, she’d worked hard for this run, and he couldn’t bring himself to ruin it.
He stood, kicked the chair back, and grabbed the GoPro. He locked the door behind him and ran up the hall, through the foyer and down the stairs. Reaching his four-wheel drive, he jumped in, then tore away from Sanctuary, ugly words still flying through his mind. He arrived at the mud run, just in the nick of time. The runners hadn’t left yet, but he didn’t think he could handle seeing Brooke. Either he’d yell, or cry, and neither option appealed. Spotting Bex’s car idling nearby, her daughter Izzy in the passenger seat and Kat beside one of the rear doors, he called her name.