Page 95 of Words of Love
The sharp statement hit him right in the gut. “But you wanted and neededhishelp?”
“I was the one making the choice aboutEmpire.” Brooke pointed her thumb at her chest, her eyes flaring. “You, on the other hand, were making a choice for me. If I’d wanted to use someone else’s personal connections, I could have asked my grandfather. In fact, he offered several times. But I’ve spent two full years depending on other people to keep me upright, and I wanted to finally do something on my own. You took that away from me.”
“Oh, for God’s sake.” Frustration crawled up his spine. “You’d rather rely on your ex than let me make one fucking phone call for you? Your internal logic is totally flawed.”
She stared at him. “Myinternal logic? What are you, a computer? Oh, right, I forgot. Sam Donovan doesn’t dofeelings.”
“I’mfeelingpissed off about this right now,” he snapped. “Why is it okay for you to help me, but not for me to help you?”
She blinked. “What are you talking about?”
“What we’ve been doing for the past two weeks.” He scraped a hand through his hair. “You offered to help me with my plot just because you wanted to, remember? You were ready to do it for nothing. Why can’t I help you because I want to, because you deserve it, because the whole fucking world should know how good you are?”
Her features hardened. “That wasn’t why I was offered the job.”
“Yes, it was!” Sam strode toward her, wanting to grab her shoulders and force her to see the truth. “Clarityisn’t going to hire a features writer as afavor. The editor never would have called you if she hadn’t been impressed with your resume and writing. And she sure as hell wouldn’t have offered you the job if you hadn’t knocked the interview out of the park. This is why I hate that you thought that dirtbag was your only shot.” He stepped away, his chest heaving. “You met with him in New York didn’t you?”
She looked past him at the opposite wall. Her jaw tightened.
“I know bastards like him.” Sam dug his fingers into his palms. “I grew up with one of them. What did he do, wine and dine you and tell you what an incredible writer you are before he made a pass at you?”
She paled, and his anger flared into a firestorm.
“What the fuck did he do, Brooke?”
She pressed her lips together. “None of your business. But I handled it without help from anyone.”
“I told you assholes like him don’t change.” Shoving aside his own bitter memories, he paced to the fireplace and back again. “Look, I appreciate your plucky, can-do attitude, but you’ve spent way too long punishing yourself over a shitty relationship and a job that almost gave you a nervous breakdown. You still haven’t realized walking away from that took courage. You’ve been too busy blaming yourself.”
“And you can’t admit that you were wrong!”
“You know what’s wrong?” He stalked toward her. “Thinking there’s only one way to get what you want. It’s like the pen and the crossword.”
Her eyebrows snapped together. “Nowwhat are you talking about?”
“You told me that using a pen for a crossword means I think there’s only one direction to take, one answer to every problem.” He spread his arms out wide. His spine was stiff enough to break. “Which is total bullshit. There are a hundred directions, a thousand answers. But you only sawone.You didn’t have faith in yourself.”
“I know I’m a good writer.” A flush of anger colored her face. “Which is why I’ve been working so hard to get a job that’s a result of my talent and experience, not because my boyfriend-who’s-not-really-my-boyfriend set it up for me. You didn’t trust my judgement, and you didn’t trust that I could do it on my own. You didn’t trustme.”
Disbelief flooded him. “Brooke, you’re theonlyperson I trust.”
“Then why didn’t you tell me about Lincoln?” she cried.
Shit.
Silence fell like a weight. The clock on the wall ticked.
Everything inside him locked down. “Lincoln has nothing to do with this.”
“Considering he’s your older brother, I beg to differ.” A pulse beat heavily at the base of her throat.
“How…” Sam closed his eyes and pulled in a heavy breath. His chest knotted. “How did you find out?”
“I saw him in an elevator and thought he was you.” Her voice was as tight as pulled wire. “Then a woman told me he was Lincoln Atwood, and when Jillian mentioned the Atwoods and Folio Publishing at the interview…with a little research, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”
“I haven’t talked to Lincoln in over five years.” Sam hated the old inadequacy roiling in his chest. “I sure as hell didn’t talk to him about you.”
“But why…” She paused. “Why didn’t you talk tomeabouthim?”