Love, Hate & Us Read online

  “Do you still want to be with me, Brody?”

  Brody looks to the ceiling, as though asking for some sort of divine assistance. When he looks at me again, his eyes are full of sadness.

  “No,” he whispers.

  A feeling of nausea washes over me as I quietly start to sob. I’ve never felt as lost as I do right now. I’ve loved Brody all my life. I thought, stupidly it seems, that what we had was a love that would last a lifetime.

  I tense as a pair of strong arms wrap around me, relaxing only when he buries his head in my neck. I don’t push him away…I can’t. If this is it, then I want one last moment of being in his arms. I don’t know how long we sit here holding one another, but I want this moment to last forever. To trap us in an eternal embrace until the end of time. It’s Brody who breaks the spell.

  “I’m so sorry, Brooke,” he says as he gently pushes me away, before retreating back to the other side of the room.

  I remain where I am, folding my arms across my chest as I mentally start to place barriers around what is left of my broken heart.

  “You gonna explain to me what’s going on?” I try to keep my voice level as I speak. It would do no good to lose it in front of him, it’ll just cause him to shut down, and I’ll never get the answers that I need.

  He looks pained. Scrubbing his right hand across his mouth as he tries to work out what he’s going to tell me. Knowing Brody, he’ll try to make it as painless as possible.

  “Well?” I snap impatiently.

  “Where do you want me to start?”

  “Try why the hell you disappeared for eleven days.”

  “I needed to think.”

  “About?”

  “Us.”

  “So, you ran off to the cabin to think about our life, our future, and you didn’t want to involve me in any way while you thought about it?”

  “It seemed the best thing to do at the time.”

  “You obviously made up your mind.” There is a tremor in my voice now as I try not to start crying again. “Are you going to tell me why you needed to do this, because I’m at a loss here, Brody? As far as I knew we were happy.”

  Brody lets out a long sigh before he answers. “I haven’t been happy in a while, Brooke.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I couldn’t.”

  “Couldn’t or wouldn’t?”

  “I forget you know me so well.” He lets out a humorless huff of laughter.

  “Obviously I don’t, because I could have sworn that the Brody I know is happy and wants to get married to me.”

  “I did, Brooke, I really did.”

  “So what changed?”

  “Me. I changed.” He starts to walk toward me before changing his mind and heads back to his safe zone behind the couch, and grips it hard. “I didn’t know how or what to tell you.”

  “Is there someone else? Is that it?” I blurt out before I can stop myself.

  “What? NO!” He looks shocked at my question. “No. I promise you, no.”

  Inwardly, I sigh with relief.

  “What is it then?”

  “You want the short answer?”

  “I want any answer.”

  He drops his chin to his chest, loosening his grip on the sofa. When he raises his head to look at me, all I can see is sadness and remorse.

  “I…we’re too young to settle down.”

  “We’re twenty-seven, Brody.”

  “And how many guys have you dated in your twenty-seven years, Brooke?”

  “Two, and one of those was only one date.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I don’t understand,” I say, standing and moving over to the couch. I perch my ass on the arm and twist my body to face him. “What has how many guys I’ve dated got to do with the fact that you want to break up with me?”

  “Everything.” His answer makes me bristle with annoyance.

  “Brody, I don’t speak code. I’m barely holding it together, so excuse me if I’m not getting what you’re trying to say. See, from my point of view, my fiancé, who I live a happy life with, disappears for nearly two weeks, and I spend the first few days going out of my mind with worry. Then I get a message from his brother, who informs me that my fiancé is thinking about things. I then spend the rest of my time hardly eating or sleeping and wondering why my soon to be husband told his brother that he wants to break up with me, yet couldn’t be bother to so much as send me a message to let me know that he was still alive. So far, so good, right?” Brody doesn’t respond to my question, so I continue. “Then, miraculously, my…I don’t know what to call you anymore.” I gesture toward him. “My…I suppose ex-fiancé now…turns up smelling like something dead that was left to fester for a week and not giving me straight answers. As someone who is tired, hungry, devastated, scared, and still in the dark as to the reason why, and has spent the last week mentally preparing to be ripped apart by the person she loves, I would really appreciate some honesty from you right now.”

  He crosses his arms over his broad chest; his face is masked in sadness.

  “It’s…it’s just not working out.” His words are measured, almost like he is trying to say what he has to say with the least pain possible. “I’ve. I’ve never been single. I’ve never played the field. Sure, there was that one girl sophomore year of high school, but she was nothing. My whole adult life, I’ve only loved you.”

  “You don’t love me anymore?” My words come out as a broken whisper.

  “I do, Brooke. I love you with all that I am.” He scrubs his hands over his face. When he looks at me again, I see tears forming in his eyes. “But our relationship is suffocating me. It’s always been you and me, never just Brody or Brooke. I want to see what life is like with just me. No one sees us as separate people. It’s like they think one can’t live without the other. I hate that, Brooke. You must feel like that sometimes too.” I don’t…can’t say anything in response. I’m too stunned over what he’s saying, how he’s felt, and the fact that he’s never once given me a hint. “Everyone has this expectation that we’ll get married and have kids,” he continues. “To them it’s a certainty, but I’m not sure that’s what I want. I’m not ready to make that move and settle down. There’s so much that I want to do first. I want to prove to myself that I can live on my own, just be Brody, not part of a pair. I…I want to know what it’s like to date other people…”

  The air in my lungs leaves me with his words. My ears start to ring, only hearing snippets of what he says next. Move out if I want him too…sell the house…could both stay here until we find a buyer…or he’s happy to buy my share.

  “I’ve never wanted to hurt you. Ever. You’re still my best friend, Brooke,” he says as my focus comes back into the room. “I’d hate to lose our friendship. I want to find out who I am, but I can’t do that if we’re together.”

  “Screw you,” I hiss, stomping toward the hallway. “I’m going out. While I’m gone, get a shower and then move all your shit into the spare room. I don’t want to speak to you again today,” I say, slamming the living room door in his face.

  Brooke

  “I can’t believe it,” Lola says, handing me another shot of Vodka. “Brody? Brody broke up with you? I thought you guys were forever.”

  “So did I.” I sniff, and wipe a copious amount of snot from my nose on to the sleeve of my sweater.

  “I just don’t understand it,” she mutters as she throws herself down on the comfy looking armchair that resides in the corner of her living room. “You sure Brody said he wants to break up with you?”

  “He wants to find himself, and he can’t do that if he’s with me.” I knock back the shot in one go, coughing as the alcohol burns my throat.

  “That’s bullshit,” Lola says, elegantly unfolding her long tan limbs from the armchair, and moves to refill my shot glass. I shake my head no but she fills it to the brim anyway. “I never took Brody for a jerk. I thought he was one of the good guys.”

&
nbsp; I grimace as I take a sip of the vodka, knocking back any more shots is probably not the best idea right now, who knows what trouble I could get in.

  “So what you goin’ to do, hon?”

  “Hide,” I sigh. “Or running away is sounding more appealing with each passing minute.”

  “Won’t solve any of your problems.”

  “Yeah, but I’ll be as far away from Brody and this town as possible.”

  “True.” A sad half-smile forms on her face as she reaches up to free her long blonde hair from the restraints of a hair tie.

  “Oh, Lola. What am I going to do? Tell me what to do,” I plead. “I don’t know how to live without him.” Lola is by my side in a flash. She puts her arms around me and doesn’t flinch when I start to cry on her shoulder.

  “You are your own person, babe. You don’t need a man to live.”

  “But I love him,” I sob. “This hurts so much.”

  “It will, sweetheart, and it’ll hurt for a long while; but you just pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and plaster the biggest, fakest smile you can. Tell all those bastards waitin’ for you to fall apart to go hang. As for Brody…” She sighs. “You own the house together, right?”

  I nod into her shoulder.

  “First thing tomorrow, you go speak with an attorney, see where you stand. Then you talk to Brody about what you need to do to separate your lives. In the meantime, you also need to pull a one-eighty.”

  “One-eighty?” I ask, lifting my head to look at her.

  “Yeah, one-eighty. No begging Brody to change his mind. Speak to him only when you need to, always be polite and calm when you do. Don’t answer straight away when he calls or texts you. No doing his laundry, shopping for him, or cooking his dinner, picking up after him, or any of the things you used to do for him. Lastly, start going out more, and don’t ever tell him where you’re going or who you’re going with. It’s none of his business anymore.”

  “Sounds harsh.”

  “Honey, trust me, it’s the only way to protect your heart.”

  “But what if he changes his mind?”

  Lola smiles and wipes the tears away from my cheek. “Then he changes his mind, but you have to prepare yourself. Please, sweetie, don’t waste your life waiting for something that might not happen. Don’t lose out on love and a family. What will you do if Brody meets, then marries another woman? Will you still hope that he’ll come back to you then?” she asks gently.

  “Yes.”

  “No, you won’t, and you know why?”

  “Why?” I bleat pathetically.

  “Because by that time, you’ll have moved on to bigger and better things. You’re stronger than that. The woman he might marry? He’ll always compare her to you, and he’ll be left wondering whether he made a mistake lettin’ you go.” She smiles as she picks up the vodka, refilling her glass. “Because the love that you two have, that’s the kind of love that, if you’re lucky, you get to experience once in a lifetime. You mark my words, that boy will regret ever thinkin’ he could find better elsewhere.”

  “Owwww. Jesus. Ass. Shit. Shit. Shit.” When the hell did we move the couch? Bet that asshat moved it to spite me. Bastard. We need to move it back, right now.

  “HEY. MOTHERFUCKER. YOU AWAKE?” God, when did we last dust the ceiling? There’s cobwebs everywhere. Ha! We…Nooo more we. Just me, and I’m not going to fucking do it. He can shove that job up his ass. Let his next victim do it for him.

  “YO! DID YOU HEAR ME, DICKHEAD? I COULD DO WITH SOME HELP HERE.”

  “Jesus, Brooke. Do you need to shout?” Brody appears in the doorway, rubbing his eyes. I’d find it cute if he wasn’t such a heart-breaking jerk. He kind of reminds me of Bambi before Bambi’s mom got shot, all innocent and hot in his boxers and with that chiseled chest six pack thing going on. Wait, Bambi wasn’t hot. And he didn’t have a six pack.

  Awwww goddammit. “FINALLY NICE OF YOU TO JOIN ME, BAMBI.”

  “Will you stop shouting for fuck’s sake! Christ, have you been drinking?” He looms over me, even in the dark I can tell he’s pissed.

  Whatever.

  “Nooone of your goddaaammn business, buster.”

  “It is when you wake me up.”

  “Dreaming of all the sluts you’re gonna bone? Sorry I woke you. Go back to bed and leave me to die.”

  “Come on,” he says, hauling me to my feet. “Let’s get you to bed.”

  “Get. Off. Me.” I rage, slapping his hands away. “You don’t get to touch this anymore. You can go fuck yourself.”

  “Brooke,” Brody growls in warning.

  “Brody.”

  He sighs and rubs his hand over his jaw. “I don’t want to fight with you. I want this to be as amicable as possible.”

  “You’re a coward.” I spit.

  “I know.”

  “And an ass.”

  “I know.”

  “And I hate you.”

  “No, you don’t,” he says quietly.

  “Yeah, I do, Brody. I hate you, and I wish I’d never met your smelly ass.”

  “You’re drunk. You don’t know what you’re saying.” I look at him then, well I look at all three of him, but they all have the same sad expression on their faces. I’d feel sorry for them but I can’t be bothered.

  “I might be drunk, which is your fault by the way, but I…” I sway as he gently guides me to our, no, my bedroom. “But I know that I hate you. You see, there’s this fine line between love and hate. There’s love, hate, and then there’s us. You are now on my hate side. I don’t think I’ll ever get over this.”

  Brody doesn’t respond to what I’ve said. He helps me into bed, tucking me in. I think he places a kiss on my forehead. I’m pretty sure he tells me he loves me and asks me to forgive him before he leaves the room. I don’t really pay attention. I’m too busy trying not to vomit.

  Brooke

  My breath smells worse than a badger’s behind, which is why I’m now hogging the bathroom as I commence Operation Make Brooke Human Again. I’ll admit that it’s not the catchiest of titles, but I’m too hung over to care.

  I woke up about half an hour ago, automatically turning to snuggle into the warm, hot body next to me, only to discover that the other side of the bed was cold and empty. Last night wasn’t the bad dream I thought it was, it is my new normal. I suppose I could pad out to the kitchen, smelling and looking like something died, but what’s left of my pride won’t let me do that.

  What was Lola talking about last night? The one-eighty? Meh, I’ll Google it after I’ve had some caffeine and painkillers, which means I’ll have to face Brody.

  Oh happy days.

  The smell of coffee makes me gag as I walk into the kitchen and take pew at the breakfast bar. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Brody standing by the coffee machine in just his boxers, so I place my head in my hands in a poor attempt to avoid looking at him.

  “How’s your head?” I look up to see a hot, steaming cup of Joe in front of me, with Brody now on the other side of the counter, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest.

  “Hurts.”

  He walks over to a cupboard, takes out a bottle of Tylenol, and places it in front of me. Next, he fills up a glass of water, and places it next to the bottle.

  “Do you remember much from last night?”

  “You dumped me.” He looks uncomfortable. Good.

  “After that?”

  “I got drunk.”

  “Yeah, you did.” A small smile dances across his face. Whatever I did last night must have been amusing…Please don’t let me have thrown myself at him. “Where did you go?” he asks.

  “Huh?”

  “Where did you go?” His eyes narrow.

  Is that jealousy I see before me? Mr. McAllister doesn’t like the fact that I went out and drunk myself stupid without him. Well tough shit.

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Because you came home so drunk you could barely stand, anything c
ould have happened to you.”

  “And that’s a problem because?”

  “Because I care about you, Brooke, and I don’t like the idea of someone taking advantage of you because you can’t hold your liquor.”

  “Again, it’s a problem because?” I say before swallowing a couple of tablets and washing them down with the hot coffee.

  “I just told you why.”

  “It’s no longer none of your business what I do and who I do it with. Your right to know anything about my life ended as of yesterday.”

  “But—”

  “But, what? You decided that you wanted out. As of yesterday, we became roommates without any benefits, until one of us finds a new place.” I smile. It’s the biggest and fakest smile that I can muster, but at least it’s a smile and not a sob. My heart, however, beats a sad, dying rhythm, and my head keeps telling me that I don’t mean it. I don’t mean the words that I say. “Anyway thanks for the coffee,” I say, getting up and heading out of the room. “But I’ve got places to go, people to see. Might set up a profile on Tinder later.” With that I leave the kitchen and head to the safety of my room.

  I pick up my cell and see that I’ve received a couple of messages from Brody. Looking at the time, he must have sent them last night while I was at Lola’s.

  Can we talk?

  Followed by.

  Where are you?

  I’m sorry.

  And finally.

  Please don’t say that. I’ll always love you.

  A quick scroll through the conversation reveals the truth, and it’s not pretty.

  Brody: Can we talk?

  Me: Go fuck yourself, assface.

  Brody: Where are you?

  Me: Neverland with my hot, new fuckbuddy. At least someone wants me.

  Brody: I’m sorry.

  Me: No ur not. You don’t care. I hate you.

  Brody: Please don’t say that. I’ll always love you.