I sobbed into his shirt. “Are you sure?”
“A thousand percent,” he whispered. “And I’m so fucking proud of you for pushing back when you needed to. I hope you’ll help me learn what you need and how to help. I just want you safe and healthy. Fuck.” He lifted me up and carried me to the destroyed sofa and sat down with me, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe.
The piece of me that hadn’t cried itself out on the kitchen floor did so now. Brooks’ dark t-shirt was soaked with my tears. The tears were as much relief as they were pain. I thought I’d ruined it, like so many other things before.
Brooks kept me close, purring and stroking my hair until I was hiccuping breath and clinging to him. His smoky vanilla scent grounded me.
“Please forgive me,” he whispered.
I took a shaky breath. “Don’t do it again.”
“I promise. And I didn’t lie about wanting to learn.”
“Okay.”
He held me a little tighter.
Finally, his voice was quiet. “A long time ago, when Bastian and I were younger and starting to fight professionally, he was cocky. He’s good enough that he can be. But cockiness without caution is a recipe for disaster. We were still in the lower tiers, and he was going up against someone who had a reputation for being ruthless and toeing the line of the rules.
“Not only was this guy better than Bastian at the time, he did things before the refs could stop him, and then shrugged his shoulders like he hadn’t done anything wrong. I didn’t want Bastian to fight him. Just had a bad feeling about it. He brushed it off and told me it would be fine.”
I sucked in a breath, realization dawning. Bastian had told me this story from his perspective.
“Bastian made a misstep, and he was off balance, and it should have been enough for the ref to call it. But his opponent—” Brooks took a slow breath. “He sent an elbow straight into Bastian’s throat. Dropped him like a stone.” He froze, swallowing and stroking his hand over my hair again, like he was grounding himself. “I thought I was going to lose him. He couldn’t breathe. They had to rush him to the hospital.
“So when I saw those numbers and heard you say it would be fine… all I could think was that I might lose you too.”
Oh.Oh.
I tightened my arms where I held him, tucking my head further into his chest.
“It doesn’t excuse what I said. I know that. That fear is mine to deal with, and clearly I have some more work to do. I just wanted you to know where the reaction came from.”
Mistress Amber’s words from that night at Element came back to me. “We’re not in control of ourselves when we’re triggered. Amber told me that after what happened at the club.”
“Yeah.” He shuddered. “We talked to someone after that fight. I’ll make an appointment.”
“You’d do that?”
Brooks slid his fingers into my hair and tugged gently, guiding me tolook at him. “I hurt you. It doesn’t matter if I was triggered or out of my mind. Ihurtyou. I made you believe you weren’t wanted. And I am so fucking sorry.” His voice cracked, and he placed his forehead against mine. “I don’t ever want to feel like this again, and I’d give pretty much anything for you to never feel this again. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do.”
Slowly, I reached up and slid my hand behind his neck, keeping our foreheads together. “I forgive you.”
I already had, but I wanted to say the words. Brooks tilted his head and kissed me softly. Gently. Healing.
We breathed each other in through the silence for a while before he spoke. “Can I ask you something?”
I knew what the question would be, and I’d known it would come sooner or later, so I nodded.
“What made you think that yelling at us would make us not want you anymore?”
Shrugging, I moved my ear over his heart, where I could hear it beat. “That’s been my experience. I speak and fuck up everything.”
“Hey.” Brooks shifted me to lean against the arm of the couch so he could see my face. Brushed away some of the drying tears. “That’s not true.”
“Yes, it is.”
His eyes widened while he watched me. Like a literal lightbulb moment. “Your father’s pack.”