Apartment 311

Ch | 93

Brooklyn Noelle Brankovich

Chapter Ninety-three: "Don't hang low the mistletoe"

I woke up with a headache after last night's events. It's Christmas Eve and doesn't even feel like it.

I was diagnosed with a mild concussion. On top of that, I had a couple of little cuts of my face, a bruised cheek, and my shoulder was dislocated so I was stuck sporting a sling.

I left Cassie's before she was out of bed and worked up the nerve to unlock my door. Noah must've returned the spare key of mine he kept because it was on the dresser in Cassie's guest room with my other things when I woke up.

I pursed my lips and let the door swing open.

When I stepped inside, nothing was crazy or too bad. Some things were flipped and out of place, but I didn't think anything was stolen or damaged. But I hadn't seen my room yet.

As soon as I tiptoed back to my bedroom, there was a knock on the main door. I jumped out of my skin and then relaxed once I saw it was only Noah.
Curse me for not learning my lesson and failing to lock the door, I thought in my head.

"Hey," he said, walking towards me. As he did so, I could smell the Methodmen sandalwood scented body wash he used wafting my way.

I removed my nails from between my teeth and sighed.

"Not now, Noah," I said, bending over to try and pick up some things that fell from the dresser that got knocked over.

I remember everything that happened even though I played clueless with Officer Rhodes and the doctor. It was Zane, who else would it be? I don't know what he did to Cassie but he really did a number on her. My thinking was this was because we quit, or maybe it was meant for the boys as a way to get to them - you know, by hurting their loved ones first. And even though I could tell how devastated Gael and Noah were about the situation, it's their fault in the first place and I just can't seem to forgive them.

"Hey, what are you doing?!" Noah snapped, lunging over to me. He pushed my hand away and lifted the dresser himself.

I smacked my lips. "I could've done it myself," I said, discouraged.

"You're not supposed to lift anything," Noah reminded me.

"Well, I'm fine."

Noah sighed like he was exhausted- fed up- by my attitude.

"We need to talk," he insisted and I snickered, flipping hair over my shoulder.

I started to walk to the bathroom and Noah raised his voice, making me freeze in place. "Brooklyn, get back here."

I slowly blinked and sat down on my bed.

"I said, we need to talk," he repeated more sternly.

I stood and stomped my foot, getting annoyed. "Talk about what, Noah?!"

"Cut the fucking attitude," he roared, making me sit right back down and seal my lips. I gulped hard and let him go on. Noah exhaled and swiped his hand down his face. "I shouldn't have to talk to you like I'm your father, but you act like a fucking kid. I fucked up, Brooklyn, I admit it. I've admitted it a million times. I can't take it back, I can only make things right now and swear I will never hurt you again but I'd rather show you that than tell you. Now, I love you, and when I heard you were in the hospital I-" he stopped and released his balled fist.