Chapter 9
BRANDON
The air around the fire seems to freeze. I stop breathing entirely, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard, I think they might break.
Her answer doesn’t matter.
Just because she’s never seen you as more than a friend, doesn’t mean she can’t—won’t.
Her eyes flicker up to mine long enough for me to see the turmoil swirling in their depths, and I hold my breath. I expected this to be an easy no, but the longer she stays silent, the more I start to suspect there might be something there. And if there’s one thing I know about Tatum, it’s that she won’t lie. Stupid game or not, she’ll tell the truth.
“I—” Tatum starts, her voice barely audible over the cracklingfire. “Um . . .”
She clears her throat, shifting uncomfortably as her gaze drops to her hands, which are fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. The silence stretches, thick and heavy as everyone waits for her answer, and when she finally speaks, her voice is so quiet, I have to lean in to hear her. “I have,” she says, her voice heavy from the effects of alcohol. “But it was a long time ago,” she’s quick to add.
The admission hits me like a physical blow.
I try to suck in a breath, but my lungs forget how to work.
Did she just—?
“What do you mean, youdid?” Ethan’s voice has gone dangerously quiet, his fingers digging so hard into her waist now, she winces beneath his touch, and I’mthisclose to breaking his hands.
But I’m too stunned to move, afraid that if I do, I’ll realize this was all some kind of joke. That she didn’t just admit to once having feelings for me.
“Um, it was in high school.” She shrugs, but the movement is anything but casual as she waits for Ethan to react. “Before I even knew you,” she adds quickly, and I can’t tell if she’s lying to placate him or telling the truth. Her voice is still slurred, but there’s an earnestness there that makes me wonder if maybe she’s being more honest than she would be sober.
I sit, stunned as I process what she’s saying. The fact that she once felt more for me than friendship is fuckingeverything?confirmation that there was something there once and maybe could be again.
Ethan’s jaw ticks as he glares at me over the top of her head. “So, three years ago?”
She nods.
“And now?” he asks, his tone sharp.
She shakes her head. “Nothing.”
I fight the urge to flinch as her words hit their mark. Instead, I smooth my face into a placid mask, knowing Ethan’s eyes are on me?knowing he wants a reaction?and focusing instead on the fact she once had feelings.
I rack my brain for telltale signs, reflecting back on our senior year of high school to pinpoint the shift, but I can’t. For me, I think I always viewed Tate as mine. But I remember quite clearly in sophomore grade when everything crystallized. We were at Macy Henley’s pool party, and I’d spent the entire day in the water with my friends playing Marco Polo and water volleyball. The sun was just starting to set, casting an orange glow across the water, when I climbed out, dripping wet, and saw Tate sitting alone on one of the lounge chairs.
She was wearing a blue bikini with little white polka dots, her dark hair pulled back in a messy bun as she read some fantasy romance novel about dragons.
Something about the way the fading sunlight hit her face made my heart stutter in my chest. Her pouty lips turned up into a smile at whatever she was reading, and I knew. It hit me like a blindside tackle—sudden, jarring, and impossible to recover from. I was in love with her. Not the casual kind of love, orthe maybe-one-day kind, but the bone-deep, no-turning-back kind of love. The kind you never fall out of.
I almost told her right then and there, but when I called her name and she lifted those blueish-purple eyes to mine, I didn’t have the courage. Because I was too young to be that in love and too scared that if I made a move, it wouldn’t last. That I’d lose her as a friend, and there was one thing I knew for certain: I couldn’t ever lose Tatum Fletcher. She was a part of me. A fifth limb. A vital organ. Flesh and bone. So, I decided right then and there to settle for friendship. To push those feelings into the furthest recesses of my mind and never look back.
And here I am now. Fucking looking back and kicking myself for not leaning into her on the lounger and kissing the fuck out of those cherry-red lips when I had the chance.
“See? No reason to be concerned,” Ethan sneers. “Like I said, I trust Tatum. It’s other people that I question.” There’s a distinct threat in his tone.
In my head I flip him the bird and give him a giantfuck you. But in reality, I plaster on a fake smile and play nice. This is a marathon, not a sprint to the finish line, and as long as Tatum is the prize, I’m okay if it takes longer than I’d like to get there.
“Right.” I stare him down, my gaze locked with his in some kind of bid for dominance when Tatum rises to her feet.
Brushing off the seat of her shorts, she says, “Um, if you’ll excuse me, I need to use the bathroom. Someone else can take my turn.”
She takes a step and stumbles, but I shoot to my feet. Ethan does the same, both of us reaching for her when he shoots me the universal glare to back the fuck off. One I ignore.
