Chapter Fifteen – Narcissist!

Brock takes your hand in his. You look at him. You don’t know if you want to hear about his time with Taylor. But at the same time you feel that you need to get this out of the way, if you’re going to continue this with him. 

– Just remember that I love you. Always!

He says, before he leans back and starts to tell you. 

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BROCK’S PAST!

Brock parks his car outside of the house. How is it possible to forget his wallet at home. Drivers license, everything. He’s just going to grab it, and then get back to work. This last week has been horrible. He’s tired, and fed up from all the fighting. And he really didn’t know what more he could do, to please Taylor. Right now it feels like everything he does is wrong. His job isn’t good enough, his clothes aren’t expensive enough, he works too much, he doesn’t give her all the expensive stuff she wants, he’s too close with his family and her family doesn’t like him. He looks down on the ring on his finger. At least she’s still with him. Although he doesn’t quite understand why Taylor was so adamant about getting engaged, if all the stuff she says to him is true. 

His wallet is on the dresser in the hall, so he just pops his head inside and grabs it. Then he stops and thinks. Maybe he should just give Taylor a quick kiss, before he goes back to work. That might help. At least, she can’t tell him that he doesn’t care about her. She’s probably still asleep, so he carefully opens the door to the bedroom, trying not to wake her up. Then he stops, just looking at what’s happening right before his eyes. Taylor, his fiancee, on top of a guy. There’s no doubt what’s happening between them. Brock swallows, contemplating what to do. He could just leave, and not come back. Just cut her off. But that’s not his style. That will almost make him as bad as she is. 

Brock starts to applaud, banging his hands together as hard as he can. The two people in the bed turn to look at him. 

– Brock!?

Taylor says. Brock tries to give her a smile. Trying to keep this as civilized as possible. 

– Congrats, Taylor. I see you found yourself a boyfriend!

He says, as Taylor gets up from the bed, wrapping a blanket around her, approaching him. 

– Don’t bother!

Brock says, removing his ring, placing it on the dresser by the door, before he turns around. Taylor tries to stop him. 

– DON’T touch me!

Brock says. He needs to get out of this house. 

– You weren’t supposed to be home!

Taylor tries, following him out through the living room. Brock turns to look at her. 

– I wasn’t supposed to be home!? I’m so sorry, I forgot my stuff. FINISH, PLEASE!!

Yelling the last words. 

– You weren’t supposed to see this! Brock, please!

Taylor tries again. 

– Not supposed to see. You’re unbelievable!

Brock replies. Trying to steady his voice. 

– He means nothing to me. I love you!

Taylor begs. Brock almost laughs. 

– Well, how about a round of applause for Taylor Spencer huh? Fucking Brock over!

Brock says, applauding again. 

– Br…

Taylor starts, But Brock cuts her off. 

– Go back to your boyfriend, Taylor!

Brock says, before he leaves the house. Slamming the door shut behind him. 

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Wow. He walked in on them? That’s the absolute worst way of finding out about things like that. Even though you don’t have that much experience, you know that much. Without realizing that you do, you place your hand comforting on Brock’s thigh. 

– I’m so sorry..

You say, looking at him. 

– Eh.. I got rid of all the fighting, and the gaslighting.

Brock replies, placing his hand on top of yours. 

– She meant you were too close with your family?

You ask. You remember how close Brock’s family was. His mom raised all her 7 children on her own. Five girls and two boys. Brock was the oldest, so of course a lot of responsibility fell on him. They were always a tight knit family, with Sunday dinners and traditions for almost every single holiday. You suspected it was because his mom never had the money to take them on fancy vacations and things like that, so she did her best to make sure they had a wonderful life at home. 

– Yes. My mom got sick, when Becca was 7 months pregnant, and I had to help out a lot. That didn’t sit too well with Taylor.

Brock says, clearing his throat. 

– Your mom is sick?

You ask, fast. Looking up at him. 

– She’s fine now. Had to have surgery, and she still has two years left with regular testing before she is declared cancer free for good. 

Brock says, and you can hear in his voice that this is hard for him. 

– You want to talk about it?

You say, leaning your forehead into his shoulder. Brock clears his throat again. 

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BROCK’S PAST

The loud beeping from the phone wakes Brock up. He takes a quick glance at the time, before he reaches for his phone. 4am. Who calls him at 4am? On his phone the caller ID says BECCA! Rebecca, Brock’s youngest sister. 8 months pregnant, and alone. That motherfucker of a boyfriend she had, ran away as soon as the pregnancy was confirmed. If Rebecca would have let him, Brock would’ve kicked the motherfuckers ass from here till oblivion. But Becca told him not to. 

– Becks! Everything OK?

Brock asks, as he’s trying to get the sleep out of his eyes. 

– No! There’s something wrong. I’m scared Brock!

Rebecca says through tears. Brock gets out of bed. 

– I’ll be right there. Five minutes. Stay absolutely still. I’ll be right there.

Brock almost yells. 

– Don’t hang up, Brock! Please!

Rebecca pleads. Brock puts his phone on speaker, and gets his clothes on. Taylor turns around in the bed, looks at him. 

– You’re leaving? In the middle of the night..

Taylor says, in an irritated tone, sitting up in the bed. 

– I have to get Becca to the hospital!

Brock answers, grabbing his keys, and turns to leave. 

– Remember I have a nail appointment at 4pm!

Taylor yells after him. 

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You kinda want to laugh, but you manage not to. Brock’s little sister was probably in labor a month early, and that Taylor girl was worrying about her nail appointment. 

– Is Rebecca and the baby alright?

You ask. And you hope for the love of God that nothing went wrong. 

– Yes, they’re both fine. Sophia is 3 years old now. And a spitting image of her mom.

Brock replies, sending you a little smile. 

– Thank God! What happened that night?

You ask, feeling like it’s sorta safe to ask, since everything worked out well.

Brock takes a deep breath. 

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BROCK’S PAST! 

Brock walks back and forth by Becca’s hospital bed. 

– Don’t they have doctors in this place? 

He mutters for himself, as a doctor comes in. 

– Rebecca Rumlow? 

The doctor asks. Becca nods. The doctor extends his hand to Brock. 

– And you are the father I presume?

Brock takes the doctor’s hand. 

– No, I’m her big brother. Brock. Brock Rumlow. How is my sister doing?

He asks, looking at Becca. 

– She has preeclampsia, we need to do an emergency C-section. Everything is set up. A nurse will be right with you. 

Brock keeps looking at his sister. Becca starts to cry again. Brock takes his sister’s hand. 

– It’ll be OK, Becks. 

He says, looking at the time. Becca grabs his shirt. 

– Don’t leave, Brock. I can’t do this alone. I’m not ready to be a mom! Brock, don’t leave!

Brock looks down at his sister, then he takes her hand between his. 

– I’m not leaving, Becks. I promise.

About an hour later. Brock sits by Becca’s bed, the only difference is that now there’s a small bed next to hers, and in it lies a healthy baby girl. 

Brock’s phone rings. The caller ID says TAYLOR! 

– Yes!

Brock answers the phone, knowing what’s coming. 

– Where are you? I thought we could have lunch before my appointment.

Taylor almost yells at him. 

– I’m still at the hospital. Becca had an emergency C-section. It’s a healthy baby girl. 

Brock says, looking at the little baby. 

– Yeah, yeah. It’s not your baby is it?

Taylor replies. Brock closes his eyes and takes a breath. 

– I’m her uncle, and Becks asked me to stay. 

Brock says, trying to keep his voice steady. He knows how Taylor is. But still, it hurts, every single time. 

– Why are you being so selfish?!

Taylor says. 

– Am I being selfish? 

Brock asks, again concentrating on keeping his voice down. 

– Just come and get me, keep your promises for once!

Taylor’s voice is a bit higher now. 

– I’m not leaving my sister!

Brock says, trying to sound determined enough for her to stop this argument. 

– You and that family of yours. Always something. I swear, when we get married, we’re moving to Europe!

Taylor says, angry. 

– I’m not leaving my sister!

Brock repeats himself. 

– Fine. I’ll call my dad!

Taylor says, now pretending to be sad. 

– He’ll be mad at you though, since you’re not taking care of me!

And with that, she hangs up. Brock takes his phone, and just looks at it, before he taps it against his forehead a couple of times. 

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When Brock stops talking, you just look at him. There are no words. You’ve heard about people acting like that. But you’ve never encountered one, and you halfly thought the stories were exaggerated. But it sounds like Brock is telling the truth. You open your mouth, then you close it again. What can you say? “Congratulations on being an uncle”? “Glad you got rid of her”? “Why didn’t you just leave”? “Does my dad know any of this”? Does your dad know about this? Do guys talk about stuff like this? Can you call Brock and you dad guys, or are they men? Your head is a total mess. You always saw Brock as this big and rough military guy. And now you know that this Taylor girl almost tore him to pieces. 

– I know what you’re thinking!

Brock says, brushing his thumb over the top of your hand. 

– Wh… What am I thinking?

You ask, trying to look into his eyes. But they’re closed. 

– Why didn’t I just leave…

Brock says, dragging his hand over his face. You don’t answer. You’re still unsure of what to say. 

– It’s not that easy….

Brock continues, opening his eyes, looking at you. Brock swallows, before he continues. 

– We lived in her house. And she spent all of our years together convincing me that I wouldn’t get by without her. After a while living with that, you start to believe it yourself. That you’re not good enough, and that no one other than them cares about you. 

Brock’s eyes turn wet. 

– I care about you!

You say, your little attempt to make him feel better. You don’t ever think you’ve seen a grown man cry before. 

– I know…

Brock says, bringing his hand up to your face, letting his thumb brush over your lips, before he leans in for a kiss. 

– And I love you. 

Brock says, when he breaks the kiss. 

– I’m a bit mad at her…

You say, looking over at his gun cabinet. 

– Don’t be! I’m not anymore. I used to be.  But she’s not worth it. She’s not even worth talking about.

Brock says, following your gaze. 

– Then why did you…… Talk about her?

You ask, instantly regretting it. But Brock just looks at you, smiling now. 

– Because you’re worth it!

He replies, giving you yet another kiss. 

You sit there in silence for a while, before Brock gets up. 

– I’m gonna get a bottle of water, do you want anything?

He asks, walking towards the kitchen. 

– Err.. Water is fine.

You answer. When Brock disappear into the kitchen, you get up, and walk over to his gun cabinet. Look at the guns. You know that this is Texas, and that almost everyone has at least one handgun at home. But you don’t think you’ve ever seen this many in one place before. You take a deep breath. 

Brock clears his throat behind you. 

– What’s the difference between a Glock 17 and a 19?

You ask. Stupid question you know. But you desperately want to talk about something other than Taylor, and this was the best you could come up with. 

– Well…

Brock replies, leaning over you, unlocking his cabinet. Takes out both his Glock 17 and 19. 

– The 19 is smaller. Typically used by law enforcement. And the 17 is a good gun for target practice and self defense, since the barrell is longer and helps you see your target better. The 17 is also a bit heavier. See?

Brock places the 17 in your right hand, and the 19 in your left. 

– Feel the difference?

He asks, holding his hands right under yours. 

– Aha…

You say. You’ve never held a gun before. Not even your dad’s. He was always careful with his guns, and hid them from you as best as he could, when you were younger. 

– I get to do something Jess doesn’t get to do!

You say, again, you don’t know why. You just feel the need to say something. And with the guns in your hands, this was the best you could come up with. 

You can feel Brock’s smile behind you, as he takes the guns back, placing them back in the cabinet, before he locks it. Then he lets one of his hands glide up your stomach on the inside of your shirt, stopping over one of your breasts, whispering in your ear. 

– If you want to, I’ll let you do a whole bunch of stuff that Jess doesn’t get to do…

He says, letting his tongue slowly glide over your earlobe. You let out a soft moan, before you lean your head back against him, moving your hands to his hips, pulling him closer. His breath tickles your skin, when he moves his lips down to your neck.