“Because he hurt you.”
Brian snaps his gaze to mine, something akin to relief flooding his eyes. “Yes,” he breathes. “He kept my brother from me. He kept Jeremy from growing up in a home full of people who would love him. Because my mom would have. If she would have known about Jeremy, she would have raised him like he was hers, because that’s who she was. My mom passed six months after my dad, and she died with the guilt of knowing there was a child out there she could have protected. Jeremy and I lost years, and he has scars that will probably never heal. Scars because of me,” Brian says quietly. “Because I shoved my wayinto his life all those years ago and told him the truth. I hurt him too, and that fucking kills me, Liv.”
“No way,” I say, settling one of my hands on his cheek so he can’t look away from me. “No, Bry. You didn’t hurt Jeremy. Your dad did. His choices changed the course of Jeremy’s life and so did yours, but it’s not the same. You and your dad arenotthe same. You gave Jeremy family. You gave him a brother, and an uncle for his kids, and a piece of his history he didn’t have before. He loves you, Brian, just like you love him. What the two of you have is special. You might not have a whole childhood full of shared memories, but you’re making memories now. You moved here so you could be a part of each other’s lives every day. You go to Maddy’s hockey games and read comic books with Oliver, and you were the first person to hold Grace on the day she was born. I’m so sorry your mom never got to know Jeremy and his family, but you do, Brian. You’re giving them enough love for both of you.”
Brian leans in and drops his forehead to mine, taking a shaky breath. “I hate him,” he mumbles. “I hate him so much. I think I’ll probably hate him forever.”
I tip my head up and press a kiss to his forehead, winding my fingers with his, and he lets out a shuddery breath. “That’s okay. He’s an asshole, and you get to hate him as much as you want. But only him, Brian. Not yourself. Never yourself.” I rest a hand over his heart, and he covers it with one of his. “You are the best person I know,” I say quietly. “You did all the right things. Made all the right choices. Give yourself a pass, Brian. You made a really beautiful life, and you helped give Jeremy one too.”
“Thank you,” he whispers, leaning in and kissing me. “I think I needed to hear that.”
“Just say the word and I’ll tell you again. As many times as you need.”
He leans back, but takes my hands again, his eyes searching my face. “My life is a whole lot more beautiful with you in it.”
My heart squeezes at his words, and my brain chooses that moment to remind me that, in less than three weeks, I’m getting on a plane and flying more than four thousand miles away from him. It feels like a middle finger from the universe that this amazing man walked into my life just as I’m about to walk out of his for a while. But three weeks is not today, so I make a vow to enjoy every single minute while I’m still here.
“That’s a whole bucket of swoon, my guy.”
He smiles, and it lights up his whole face. “Can’t help it. I feel very swoony about you, Liv.”
I just barely resist the urge to press a hand to my heart to make sure it’s still sitting in my chest. “That’s handy,” I say, “because I feel very swoony about you, too.”
With a wink and a grin, Brian slides off the bench and onto one knee, unlacing my skates and pulling them off. And god, why is having a man take off your skates for you so damn sexy? To compound the absolute sexy devastation, he takes one of my feet in his hands, massaging the feeling back into it. When he presses his thumb to the ball of my foot, I groan, dropping my head back. “That feels so fucking good,” I mutter.
“Fuck, Liv,” Brian says, switching feet. “You can’t make sex noises when we’re in public and I can’t do anything about it.”
I lift my head back up, giving him a sly grin. “How do you know what my sex noises sound like? Unless I’m remembering wrong, we haven’t had sex.”
“Yet,” Brian practically growls. “We haven’t had sex yet, and that ends tonight.”
My clit throbs and I sit straight up, pulling my foot away from him. “That needs to end right now. We have to leave.”
Brian chuckles, taking my foot back. “Patience, Liv. We’ll get there. But we have things to do first.”
I narrow my eyes at him. “What things?”
Slipping my shoes onto my feet, he makes quick work of his own skates and shoes then takes my hand, pulling me up from the bench, wrapping an arm around my waist and pressing his mouth to mine. “We’re getting hot chocolate,” he murmurs. “Your mom had it right. Skating should always end with hot chocolate.”
My heart clenches at Brian’s mention of my mom. At him giving me back this memory. And my heart, which has remained firmly in my chest for twenty-five years, leaps out and straight into his hands. “Thank you,” I whisper, wrapping my arms around him and hugging him tightly.
Brian kisses the top of my head and runs a hand up and down my back. The music still plays over the rink’s loudspeaker, and people mill around everywhere. The snow falls lightly around us as the cold December air seeps into my coat and chills my bones. But I don’t notice anything except for Brian’s warm arms around me, and the smell of pine and spice as I lay my head on his chest and breathe him in, the sound of his heartbeat in my ear.
“Anything for you, Liv. I would do absolutely anything for you.” He says the words quietly, but I hear them loud and clear. And this is the moment I surrender to the fact that one way or another, Brian Simpson is going to be mine.
And nothing in the world has ever felt so right.
CHAPTER SEVEN
BRIAN
“Off,” I mutter against Olivia’s lips, tugging at the zipper of her coat and dragging it down her arms, letting it fall at her feet before pressing her against the front door of my loft and kicking off my shoes at the same time. “So many clothes. Way too many clothes.”
“Same goes,” she gasps, shoving my coat off my shoulders and snaking her hands underneath my shirt, skating her fingers up my abs and back down. My muscles quiver in response to her touch, heat searing my skin. “I need you, like, one hundred percent more naked,” she mumbles, her lips never leaving mine.
Breaking the kiss, I reach behind me, yanking my shirt off, and then curling my fingers into the bottom of her sweater, pulling it up and over her head before crashing my mouth back to hers. My brain is short circuiting. My hands don’t know where to touch first. All I know as I tangle my hands in Olivia’s hair and plunge my tongue into her mouth ismore.
More of this.
