Unsocial (45 page)

"Okay,” she whispers.

“Is that okay, yes, or okay, I’ll think about it?”

“I’ll think about it. I promise.”

I smile, "Good. I'll be waiting. Goodnight, Brooke."

"Goodnight, Dylan."

We hang up, and my mind wonders straight to thoughts of her.  This
is so insane.  I think about what she said, what do we do if this doesn’t work?
Can I ask her for another time then another time?  How many times will it take?
Fuck, what if this time only fuels the fire. Makes me want her more. Is
sleeping with her one more time worth the risk of wanting to be with her again
and again. I think I’ve made a big mistake. My phone buzzes beside me on the
bed. I’m thinking it’s probably just Jax congratulating me on scoring tonight.
Little
does he know what a fail that was.
I glance at the text I receive. Just one
word that causes my heart to pound and my breath to stop.

Brooke: Yes.

Exactly the answer I wanted. Right?

Brooke

"A social work conference?"

“Yeah, Friday and Saturday. I’ll just be gone one night.  I
totally forgot about it with all the new cases I’ve been given plus the
holidays. Do you have any plans for the weekend, maybe with Jackson?”  I check
my purse and briefcase one last time before I head into work. It’s Wednesday
morning, and I’m just now telling Alex about the “conference” I have to go to
Friday.  I would have told her sooner, but work has been crazy.

“No plans.  I’m working late Friday and opening Saturday for
Jennifer. And Jax has only called me once since he’s been back from Oklahoma
City.” She pauses a moment, “I’m not sure about hooking up with him again. You
know how I get, Brooke, and I think he’ll end up running as soon as my clingy
side comes out. It’s happened too many times before, and Jackson is a
no-relationship guy.”

Like,
Dylan.

When he called me this past weekend to suggest we spend one more
night together, I was in shock, but there was no way I could pass it up, not
after the night we had together. Every moment plays over and over, and the only
thing that would have made it perfect would have been a repeat.  So his request
is something that I couldn’t turn down.

I know I should be worried about the consequences it could have on
my job, but I’m more concerned about the cost of my heart. Somewhere in the
past six months, Dylan has worked himself inside my heart, and I’m afraid it
will only take a small push for me to fall in love. Unfortunately, love and
relationships are a no-go for Dylan. I just have to keep reminding myself of
this, and once again take it for what it is.

I would be lying if I said it didn't thrill me that once wasn't
enough for him. But I must say the suggestion took me by surprise, especially
after the disaster that was last Tuesday. Him asking me to leave like he did I
have to admit nearly gutted me. Then his explanation on the phone Friday night
blew me away with his admission, that he still wanted me, well, at least one
more time with me. I’ll have to take it, and I will, and I’m going to enjoy the
hell out of it. It’ll be something that I’ll probably compare every other man
I’m with in the future. How sad is that?

“I think it’s smart, seeing it now before you get in too deep. 
So, you okay with me being gone on Friday then?” I ask trying to make sure
she’s bought the whole lie.

She's dressed to go for a run and starts stretching in the living
room. "Totally fine. Feel sorry for you, though, it sounds super boring.”

I laugh, "It’s to help me in my new career not provide
entertainment. That’s why it’s called a conference and not a party.” I hate
lying to her, and since meeting Dylan, I seem to be doing quite a bit of it.
Each time makes me feel a little worse than the last. But I know she wouldn't
understand. Right now I don't want to hear any of her reasons why meeting him
on Friday would be a bad idea. The day after accepting his invitation for
Friday he sent me the reservation details. I’m not backing out, and I don’t
need her talking me into backing out.

As Friday draws closer, it becomes more difficult to think about
work.
The hotel he booked is a five star hotel in downtown Kansas City,
and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t interested in checking it out. It’s the
same hotel that has the spa the Monroes got me a full pass for, so maybe I can
check that out while I’m there.  Everything I’ve heard about it promises me a
glorious time.

My thoughts wonder to what Friday will be like. I wonder if he’s
taking me out to dinner, maybe a drink in the hotel bar, or will we just go
straight to ripping each other’s clothes off. Personally, I’d be fine with the
latter.  When I enter the building, my thoughts are insanely inappropriate. My
thoughts are still insanely naughty and inappropriate for work when I walk into
the building, but what can I do. Since I agreed to this proposal, the
possibilities of what we’ll do to each other’s bodies are endless.

An hour into my workday Janice hands me a file on an abuse victim
at the hands of her live-in boyfriend.  “I hate to hand you another case,
Brooke, but this one needs special attention.  Her name is Sarah Freeman. 
She’s a single mother.  Two nights ago she finally called the called the police
on the boyfriend after he beat her then grabbed her son.”

My heart saddens for the woman.  I glance quickly at her file and
see that she had to be taken to the hospital last night, and her children are
in temporary state custody. “Absolutely.  I’ll go in now and talk to her.” I
glance once more at the file. “It says here that she has a couple of broken
ribs and a broken arm.  If we get her children is she going to be able to take
care of them? I don’t see mention of any family.”

"She has those injuries among other things I’m sure.  No
family in Kansas. You’ll just have to see what resources are open right now for
her and the kids.”

We see abuse cases all the time, and it never gets easy, but when
there are children involved, it makes everything seem so much worse. Even
though she has some serious physical injuries that will take time to heal, it’s
the emotional ones that will take the longest to get over.  I know from the
many interviews I’ve had with these abused mothers that the guilt of not being
able to get out and protect their children is what causes the most anguish for
them.  "Okay, I’ll go in and get her taken care of.” I love my job as a
social worker, and I appreciate that they have faith in my abilities so much
that they feel comfortable adding to my workload, but lately I’ve felt like I’m
drowning in paperwork, the research for appropriate accommodations, all the new
cases.

I stand outside the conference room door, square my shoulders, and
give myself the usual pep talk.
You can do this, Brooke.
This is your
job, and this lady depends on you to make this horrific situation better, for
her and her children. I open the door and greet my newest client.  My first
impression is how pretty she is despite the physical evidence of a man who is
certainly a monster.  Right now her dark hair hangs long and heavy to the
middle of her back.  Her eyes are black, and there are bruises on her cheeks
and jaw.  Her neck has the imprint of a hand on either side where he obviously
tried to choke her. Her eyes are a beautiful shade of gold despite the sadness
that’s in them. I can’t imagine what kind of a person could do this to someone
like her. I give her my most confident smile and get to work for her.  “Good
morning, Sarah.  I’m Brooke, your caseworker.  Let’s see what we can do about
getting you some assistance and see your children.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Brooke,” she replies in a small
voice. “And thank you.”

With that, we get to work making arrangements for housing,
assistance, insurance, and other necessities needed to show she can provide temporarily
with state aid for her and her children. After several hours of filling out and
filing paperwork, phone calls, and making plans to move what belongings she has
to her new living place, I take her to see to the foster home where her
children have been staying. It’s more than apparent how much she loves the
adorable twins and how much they love her.  They’re Gabby’s age, and from her paperwork,
I know she’s 22-year-old, so she was only 16 when she had them. I watch her
with them and see how hard this separation is on all of them. My mind drifts to
Dylan and the kids, all the progress they’ve made in the last six months, and
I’m determined to make sure this young family has the same.  This is why I
wanted to become a social worker, for the families.

By 9 pm I'm back in the same conference room that I had my meeting
with Sarah. It’s been a long day of working for her as well as meeting other
clients, and I’m behind on much needed paperwork, hence the need to be in the
conference room with file after file spread on the huge table. Everyone has
long since gone home, even the janitor who informed me he was leaving about an
hour ago.  I don’t see myself getting out of here anytime soon, and some of
this has to be done for court appearances that I’ll be having tomorrow. This
part of my job is definitely
not
why I became a social worker.  It’s
tedious, boring, and tiring. I’ve wished for the last two hours that I could
see the end of the file so I could go home to my bed and sleep. With work and
thoughts of Dylan, my need for eight hours a night has not been met.  I heave a
sigh and reach for the next file, digging deep for the will to continue.  The
quiet is nice I have to admit. During the day, there are too many interruptions
to get everything accomplished, and there is no way I’m dragging all this home.

Behind me, I hear a light knock on the doorframe, followed by the
sexy voice that’s never far from my thoughts. "Brooke."

No way.
Maybe I’ve fallen
asleep. I turn slowly and take in the object of all my dreams and fantasies.
Dylan’s large frame is filling the doorway causing all kinds of dirty thoughts
to come to mind, like sex on this big table. I give myself a mental shake and
set those ideas aside. "Dylan?"

He takes a step just inside the door.  "You’re working late.”

"Yes. How did you know I was here?"

He looks slightly guilty and sits in the chair next to me, "I
went to your apartment, and Alex told me you were probably here."

Oh my, God, he went to my apartment. Oh, this is bad, I can only
imagine what Alex thought.  He must read the worry on my face because he places
his hand on my thigh. “It’s okay. I told her it was an emergency with Cass.”

“But it’s not, Cassie’s okay?”

“She’ fine.  I just needed to talk to you, and you weren’t
answering you phone. You’re sure working late.”

“I forgot to charge my phone last night, and with all the calls I
made today out in the field it finally gave up a couple of hours ago. And I’m
working so late because of all this exciting paperwork.” I gesture at the
table. So what’s going on?” I ask nervously. I’m wondering if this has anything
to do with Friday.

He gives me an anxious look, which just increases my anxiety.
"I changed my mind about Friday, Brooke."

What? No.
I immediately feel
rejected, and it hurts like a bitch. I lower my head just enough to hide my
reaction that I’m sure is written all over my face.  "Okay, it probably
wasn’t a smart idea anyway.” I doubt I’m pulling off the ‘I don’t give a shit’
tone I’m trying for.

He leans over and pulls me into a deep kiss. Now I’m just more confused
because this kiss doesn’t say ‘goodbye’ or ‘I don’t want you.’ The mixed
signals have my thoughts running all over the place searching for an answer to
what the hell is going on.

When he breaks the kiss I pull back and ask him breathlessly,
"Dylan, what’s going on?"

He looks closely at me before standing to run his fingers through
his hair like he’s trying to find just the right words to whatever is on his
mind. He looks frustrated and a little desperate, then he takes a deep breath
before speaking, “I don't want just another one-night stand with you, Brooke. 
I want more, like a lot more. I want to be with you, in a relationship with
you. I'm not going to stand here and promise you marriage and babies because up
until now I thought all that stuff was bullshit. Definitely not something I was
interested in, but with you, I want to see where this attraction can go.”

I sit in my chair trying to wrap my head around the words he is
saying. "So what do you want.”

"You."

"Me? As in a fling or friends with benefits?"

He shakes his head, "No, not casual. Not a fling. No friends
with benefits.  Brooke, I thought that's what I needed. That’s really all I
know. I figured if I could sleep with you a couple of times then I could stop
thinking about you and wanting you. And then I could just go back to my old
lifestyle, the selfish asshole I thought I loved being, but it didn't work.
What I want is an actual relationship with
you.
"

I want to ask what he means by ‘it didn’t work’ but decide not to
go there. Instead, a small smile finds its way on my face. I don’t want to get
too excited, but I can’t help it. A relationship? With Dylan? My heart races at
the thought, but then reason sets in. A relationship would be impossible.
Reality
is such a mean bitch.

"Dylan, we can't date. Not until you have full guardianship
and I'm no longer your social worker."

"I don’t want to wait that long.  I
can’t
wait that
long to be with you. Brooke, I need you now." He holds my face in his
hands, tilting it up to towards his. His eyes are so full of heat they nearly
burn my own.  “Can you trust me to figure this out?  I promise that your career
will not be threatened, and neither will my case.  We’ll be careful to make
sure no one finds out until it’s safe.  As much as I would love to show you off
and tell everyone that you’re my girlfriend, I’ll do everything to keep us safe
from any repercussions.”

Girlfriend.
My whole body warms
at the thought. I knew long before this that if Dylan wanted a relationship
with me that I wouldn’t be able to fight it. I’m too far in to let fear for my
job or my heart stand in the way of this chance to see what he and I can build
together. Honestly, nothing else matters because I need him too.  And if he
thinks we can figure out how to make this work, then I have to trust him.
I
have to take this chance
.