“That’s not saying much,” I snort, reaching for the mashed potatoes.
Dad laughs, passing Brandon the serving platter. “Remember when she tried to teach you how to make pancakes, son? What was it you said about the smoke alarm?”
“That it doubles as a cooking timer,” Brandon and I answer in unison, then burst into laughter.
Thirty minutes later, the conversation flows as easily as the wine Dad keeps pouring. Stories weave in and out—some I’ve heard a hundred times, others new and embellished with each retelling. Brandon fits seamlessly into it all, finishing my parents’ sentences, and knowing exactly when to laugh or add his own commentary.
“And then,” Mom continues through a fit of giggles, recounting my disastrous junior high talent show performance, “she dropped her baton, and it rolled right off the stage!”
“Into Principal Hendrick’s lap,” Brandon adds, grinning at me across the table. “I thought Tate was going to melt into the floor.”
“I still have nightmares about that stupid talent show,” I grumble, through a bite of my pie.
Brandon’s foot nudges mine under the table, and I feel a jolt in my bones. “Hey, at least you had the guts to get up there. That’s more than most people can say.”
“That’s our Tatum,” Dad says, raising his glass. “Always diving in headfirst, even if the water’s shallow.”
“Or nonexistent,” Mom adds with a wink.
I roll my eyes. “Are you all done ganging up on me, or should I have my dessert in the kitchen?”
“We tease you because we love you,” Brandon says, his voice softening as his eyes meet mine. “Your fearlessness is one of the things I’ve always admired most about you.”
Something warm unfurls in my chest at his words, and for a brief, dizzying moment, I imagine what it would be like if Brandon were here as more than my friend—as my actual boyfriend. What would change? We already act like we’re together in so many ways.
“Oh, and don’t forget the time Tatum tried to climb that oak tree in the backyard to rescue Mrs. Peterson’s cat,” Mom says, gesturing with her fork. “She got stuck up there for two hours!”
“It was really high up, and I was only eleven!” I protest, but I’m laughing, too. “And that cat was perfectly capable of getting down on its own.”
“Which is exactly what it did,” Brandon adds, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Left you stranded while it sauntered away.”
Dad nearly chokes on his wine. “I remember coming home just as you started to climb up after her because she was too scared to come down.”
“My knight in shining armor,” I drawl, but there’s no bite to it. The truth is, Brandon has always been there to rescue me.
Even with Ethan.
Even after I pushed him away.
Brandon winks at me, like he can see straight through my thoughts, and my heart gives a helpless little flip. Here I am, with my best friend in a situation I created, reading into every touch, every glance, like an idiot who should know better. But it’s too late. Because my mother’s right. Things have changed. Somewhere between our late-night rendezvous, the teasing, and the almosts, I went and did the one thing I swore I wouldn’t.
I caught feelings.
Chapter 34
BRANDON
It’s evening—dark and cold outside, with the rain turning to sleet and tapping against the windows like impatient fingers. The flicker of gold light spills across the walls from the fireplace, shadows stretching and shifting like they can’t get comfortable either.
I should head to bed. The team has an early start in the morning. But my mind won’t shut off—too full of her, of what it means that I’m here again, in her house, trying to pretend we’re still just friends when I’m so far gone for this girl, I’m past the point of no return.
I hear her before I see her—the faint shuffle of fuzzy socks on hardwood. When I glance up, she’s coming toward me, fresh from the shower, hair damp and curling at the ends, dressed in baggy clothes.
My chest tightens. She looks soft, unguarded. Beautiful.
“What are you doing here all alone?” she asks, her voice low and warm.
“Just thinking,” I tell her, and when she rounds the couch to sit beside me, I can’t stop watching her. The firelight dances over her face, catching the shimmer of water in her hair. She smells like soap and something sweet I can’t name.
