“I’ll take it,” he said and then kissed my nose and rolled off of me. “Now, get over here and snuggle me.”
This fucking guy.“Snuggle you?”
“Yeah, casually, of course,” he chuckled.
“You’re an idiot.” I couldn’t help the smile that had crept onto my face. And then I did something that surprised me. I tucked myself in next to Brandon and rested my head on his shoulder.
“It isn’t so bad, is it?” he asked as he stroked my back gently.
“It’s weird. Honestly, I don’t know how to act right now.”
“Be yourself. Nothing’s changed. We’re just two naked people hanging out in bed.”
“That makes it sound even weirder, you lunatic.” I slapped at his chest. “Why is this spot blank? You have tattoos literally everywhere but here.” I pointed to the only tattoo-free spot on him, the spot right over his heart. I’d noticed it before, but never mentioned it.
“You’re gonna think it’s dumb.”
“Probably, but tell me anyway,” I urged.
“I wanted to leave a place for when I meet my forever partner. I want to get a tattoo here, over my heart, that represents the one who captures it.”
“God, you’re so corny, but you’re right. I think that’s dumb. What happens when the love of your life asks for adivorce?”
“Still so cynical.” He kissed the top of my head. “Get some sleep, Sweetheart.”
“Here?” Snuggling was one thing; sleeping over was another fucking story.
“I’ll make it worth your while in the morning. Now go to sleep.” Brandon sounded half asleep already. I could’ve probably waited for him to fall asleep and bounce, but I willingly stayed wrapped in his embrace and drifted off.
In the morning,he did in fact make it worth my while. I woke up with his face between my legs. After several orgasms, he tried to convince me to shower with him, but I declined. I’d already made that mistake once.Baby steps, right?Showering together was another thing that felt too intimate. I needed to work my way up to those things.
After I shot down the idea of showering together, he let me go first, giving me some privacy. The shower was glorious, except for my damn brain that wouldn’t turn the hell off. I couldn’t believe I had spent the night with him. I tried to shake off the uneasy feeling building inside me, to no avail. By the time I made my way back into his bedroom, I was stressed to the max.
“Your turn,” I said, not meeting his eyes.
“I put a shirt on the bed for you,” he said casually. “I’llbe quick. Don’t go running off,” he laughed. “I’m going to feed you before you go.”
“Fiiiiine. I guess I’ll let you feed me.” I said dramatically, trying to seem unbothered. Meanwhile, inside, I was freaking the fuck out.
I pulled on his shirt that he had left on the bed for me. Although it was freshly laundered and smelled amazing, it offered me little comfort. I paced his room, which now felt too small. Moving into the living room, I spotted his sketchbook on the dining table. Looking for anything to distract me, I sat at the table and opened the book, expecting to see sketches of tattoo ideas and client pieces.
What I saw knocked the breath from my lungs. I flipped through page after page, my chest growing unbearably tighter.
I had to get the fuck out of there. Brandon was clearly more into me than he was letting on. Daphne was right. I was going to break this gentle giant’s heart if I kept up my bullshit. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve this broken version of me that couldn’t give him what he wanted.
I practically ran back into his room, threw on my pants and shoes, grabbed the rest of my things, and ran like I normally do. But not because I wanted to leave before he could leave me, but because I was damaged goods and not enough for this beautiful human.
9 Months Later
30
BRANDON
Iknew it was her before I even looked up. I’d know her laugh anywhere. Lexi breezed past the cafeteria, laughing with another nurse, unaware of the daggers that pierced my chest with every sound.
It had been nine months since I’d seen her.I tried. Believe me, I tried.When she disappeared that morning in March, I texted, I called, and I even went to her apartment—trying to make her see reason. She’d stumbled upon my sketchbook—not the one that housed my general art or my client sketches, but the one I started the day I met her last Halloween. The one filled with drawings of her, of her eyes, of her body. The one that probably made me look like an obsessed lunatic.
When I’d come out of the shower that day, I’d been hopeful. Lexi’s spending the night was a tremendous step for her, and I was cautiously optimistic it was the beginning, not realizing then that it was actually the end. When I foundmy sketchbook open on the dining table, and Lexi and all of her things gone, I knew it had been too much for her. She wanted casual, and when she found my lovesick musings, she bolted. I immediately sprang into action, running out into the snow to catch her, but I was too late.
