Chapter 9 - Brooke Refused to Let Cole Apologize Too Easily
Cole found Brooke outside the motor pool the next morning.
She saw him coming.
Did not leave.
That alone felt generous.
“I read the letter.”
Brooke nodded.
“She talked about you.”
“I assumed.”
Cole stood awkwardly several feet away.
“I owe you an apology.”
“Yes.”
The blunt answer caught him.
He almost smiled despite himself.
Brooke did not.
Cole continued.
“I accused you of sleeping with Dad.”
“Yes.”
“In front of soldiers.”
“Yes.”
“I threw a punch.”
“Yes.”
“You planning to make me list everything?”
“If you need help remembering.”
Fair.
Cole looked down.
“I was wrong.”
Brooke waited.
Not because she wanted more humiliation.
Because she had spent days hearing people apologize for the rumor without naming what made it destructive.
Cole finally looked at her.
“I treated your promotion like something a man gave you.”
Brooke’s expression shifted slightly.
“I treated your record like it mattered less than my suspicion.”
Another shift.
“And I decided knowing my father meant I had the right to define your relationship with him.”
Brooke nodded once.
Better.
Cole continued.
“I’m sorry.”
She was silent for a long time.
Then:
“I believe you.”
Relief hit his face too quickly.
Brooke stopped it.
“That does not mean we’re fine.”
Cole nodded slowly.
“I know.”
“No, you don’t yet.”
Her voice remained calm.
“You embarrassed me professionally. There are soldiers who heard your accusation and will remember it longer than they remember any correction.”
Cole’s jaw tightened.
“I’ll correct it.”
“You should.”
“In front of everyone.”
“That is your decision.”
Cole frowned.
“You don’t want me to?”
“I want you to do it because it is true, not because you think public apology buys private forgiveness.”
That landed.
Cole nodded.
Brooke looked toward the row of vehicles.
Then asked:
“What did my mother write about me?”
Cole almost laughed.
“That you’re probably unbearable.”
Brooke’s mouth twitched.
“That sounds like her.”
“She said you didn’t hate me.”
“I didn’t.”
“Did you ever?”
“No.”
“Resent me?”
Brooke considered.
“Yes.”
Cole accepted it.
“For what?”
“For getting to call him Dad without whispering.”
That answer hurt.
Brooke continued.
“For family photographs. Holidays. The fact that when he missed my birthday, you probably got to be mad at him openly.”
Cole had never thought of anger as privilege.
Now he did.
Brooke looked at him.
“And I resented you for not knowing me, which was unfair because you were not given the chance.”
Cole swallowed.
“That’s what Laura wrote too.”
“She was better at fairness than I am.”
“Was?”
Brooke’s eyes shifted.
There.
The grief.
Cole noticed properly for the first time.
“How did she die?”
“Pancreatic cancer.”
“When did you find out?”
“Ten months ago.”
“Dad knew?”
“Yes.”
“Did he help?”
Brooke’s jaw tightened.
“He visited.”
Cole heard the distinction.
Not helped.
Visited.
Stayed near the end.
Richard had finally done something Laura once asked him not to do during Brooke’s childhood: be present without hiding.
Too late to repair decades.
Not too late to matter.
Cole asked:
“Was the office meeting about her?”
“Yes.”
“What did Dad have?”
“Her military ID tags. A box of letters. And your letter.”
Cole looked down.
“So when I saw you leaving…”
“You were watching me walk out after collecting my dead mother’s things.”
Cole shut his eyes.
Brooke did not soften the truth for him.
Good.
He opened them again.
“I’m going to correct the rumor.”
Brooke nodded.
“And after?”
He asked.
Brooke looked at him.
“After that, maybe you introduce yourself.”
Cole frowned.
“What?”
“As my brother.”
May you like
For the first time, Brooke smiled faintly.
“Because so far, Sergeant Barrett, your opening approach has been terrible.”
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