My Dirty Little Secret

Chapter Eighteen

A/N: Sorry this took so long to get up, I've been kind of busy lately. Thanks for fanning/voting/commenting, you guys are awesome! Every single one means so much to me, even if you don't realize it. (:

Enjoy! 
- Railene 

Brooke's POV

"Chelsea, hide," I was urging, just trying to get my clothes on as fast as possible. 

"What?" she asked, trying to get her shirt over her head. "Why? What's going on?"

From downstairs, I heard her voice. "Brooke," she was calling. "It's me."

"Kate," I said under my breath. I made it sound like a swear.

"Who is Kate?" Chelsea asked.

"Shh!" I hissed. "Get in the closet!"

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"You need to hide," I tried to say as clearly as possible while simultaneously losing my mind.

"Why?"

"That's my ex-girlfriend," I tried to explain.

"Yes," she said, not getting it. "Ex-girlfriend."

"Yes? And?" I said, not trying to solve her puzzle in this limited amount of time.

"So why does it matter if you're with someone else?"

"You're seventeen," I reminded her.

"She doesn't know."

"She has a law degree. She'll figure it out. Hide."

She put up her hands, allowing me to win this time, and unceremoniously got in the closet.

"Brooke?" Kate called again. "Are you home?"

"In here," I said, then immediately regretted it. You're so stupid, I said to myself. Why had I led her to the exact room I was trying to keep her out of? Why couldn't I just be a good liar for once? 

I rushed to at least meet her in the hallway.

"Brooke," she exhaled, hugging me. In a word, it was weird.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, dumbfounded as to why she was standing in my hallway at eleven at night, hugging me after we'd broken up.

"I need to talk to you," she said, holding both my hands.

That wasn't helpful. This was Kate. Hard ass, straight as a line, middle of the road, play by the book Kate. She was usually in bed by now. And when she came over, she almost always called.

"Are you drunk?" I asked.

"No," she said, looking disgusted. "What are you talking about?"

"This isn't like you," was all I said. She had to understand.

She sighed, leaning against the wall. "That's because I'm a mess, Brooke," she said. "I'm falling apart. Being without you for the first time in two years is killing me. I don't know what to do with myself. I feel like part of me went missing, and no matter how much I reach for it, it's not coming back."

I didn't say anything for a long time. Part of me wanted to send her home, end the conversation with, "Then you shouldn't have fucked it up," and never call her again. Part of me wanted to.

But the other part of me ached in her pain, because as much as I tried to suppress it, I knew how she felt. A part of me had inevitably gone missing in her absense as well.

"I know how you feel," I almost whispered, not knowing whether it was because I didn't want to admit it, or because I had another girl hiding in the closet that would have been crushed to hear me say it.

"You do?" she asked quietly.

I nodded. "You hurt me, Kate, but that didn't mean I ever stopped loving you."

A look came across her face of pain mixed with relief, excitement mixed with wistful sadness, hope for our future mixed with heavy nostalgia. She took a deep breath before looking pensively into my eyes.

"And I fucked up, Brooke. I completely fucked up. But I loved you before I did, I and I love you still."

She ran a hand through my hair, the way she always used to, and pulled me into her. I gave into her kiss, in a momentary lapse of reason, and felt the passion I realized I'd missed. Then, my judgment came back, as did the memory of why I'd left her in the first place. And perhaps more importantly, the memory of the beautiful girl I had shoved into my closet to keep my secrets.

"I can't do this right now," I whispered.

"You can't do what?"

"You...I...I just can't deal with this. I have something else to take care of."

"What do you --"

"I'll call you," I cut her off. "Okay? I promise. We'll talk."

"I don't understand," she said, backing off from our momentary closeness.

"Neither do I," I admitted, though I was probably confusing her further. "Tomorrow, okay? I'll call tomorrow."

Why had I made that kind of promise?

She shook her head and turned to face the stairs. "Whatever," she said. "Take your time."

"Goodnight, Kate," I tried to smile cordially.

"I love you," she said.

I didn't know what to say, so I settled on, "I know."

Out of context, it may have seemed cold, but given the circumstance, that was giving her a lot more than she deserved.

Forcing a playful smile, I opened the closet door. "Thank you," I said, taking her hand and bringing her out. "I'm so sorry."

"It's fine," she said. "What did she want?"

"She just wanted to get something she gave me a long time ago," I said.

I hadn't really lied. I just hadn't told her that that something, was patience.