Someday Promised

Chapter 38

Brooks's POV 

It had been a week since the wedding and every time Sydney and I were in the same vicinity we ended up falling into the nearest bed...or counter...or couch...or pretty much any surface that was sturdy enough for us to end up covered in a light sheen of sweat and satisfaction covering our faces. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved every minute of being inside of her, on top of her, and under her...I loved the look in her crystal blue eyes as she came with my name on her lips but all of this "taking things slow and having fun," was beginning to feel a lot like friends with benefits, and as incredible as the sex was, that wasn't the only benefit I was interested in. 

I wanted her to be mine, my girlfriend, hell, my fucking wife, I didn't care as long as there was security in what we had. I knew that in the moments we were together she was, I felt it in my bones but every time I left her presence without knowing exactly where we stood the amount of dread in the pit of my stomach grew. 

That's how I ended up at The Tavern on Saturday night. The beers were going down smoothly, almost too smoothly, as I sat at the bar. Earlier in the afternoon, I had texted Sydney. She had been busy preparing for an opening all week, so I was hoping to convince her to take the evening off so I could take her out to dinner. However, she responded with a sad face emoji and told me she and Lance were taking Grams Janice out for her birthday. A small part of me felt jealous that she didn't invite me, and that small part was the one that proceeded to chug the beer in my hand.

After barely touching my dinner and finishing off the whiskey I had transitioned to my head began to spin. 

I slurred to Stella for another and she placed a water on the bar with force and laid her hand out gesturing for me to give her my keys, "No more booze until you polish off that glass of water Brooks," and I relented. I knew better than to argue with her. 

It brought me comfort in the safety of our small town, everyone was always looking out for each other. She would make sure I got home but not by my own hands, especially if I was going to keep drinking and even if she had to drive me there herself.

Typically I wouldn't lose this much control, especially in public, I preferred to drown my sorrows in the privacy of my own home but my heart felt heavy and because I was trying to be different, I didn't fight the emotions that were washing over me, I allowed myself to drown in it. 

***

Sydney's POV 

I stumbled from my bed in the dark. I had only been asleep for maybe an hour when the first loud thump stirred me awake but I told myself it was nothing. It had to be a dream or possibly an animal digging in the trash...fucking raccoons were apparently a thing to be worried about here in Westville now. But then the loud bang against the door told me that there was something or someone out there. 

I reached into the end table by the couch, searching for the can of mace I had tossed in there. As I blindly made my way through the dark room, I peeked between the curtains. It was pitch black outside, and the shadowy figure on my porch indicated that it was indeed a person. 

I mentally scolded myself for not grabbing my phone, "This is how the girl dies in a horror movie, Sydney." I whispered to myself. Then, I heard a groan as the shadowy figure attempted to stand. I clenched the mace in my hands, and just as my eyes adjusted to the light, I caught a glimpse of the profile of the intruder's face.

"What the hell," I rolled my eyes and stepped to the door swinging it open. "Brooks!" I yelled in a whisper, "What are you doing on my porch...AGAIN?" 

His voice came out in a slur and not at the volume of a whisper. "SYD!" 

Dear God, he was drunk. Hello, Dejavu.