I nod, smiling. “I know exactly what you mean. I don’t know what it is, and I can’t explain it. It becomes a part of you, and you a part of it, until you can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
Pushing off the counter, Brian opens the fridge and grabs two bottles of water, handing one to me. He uncaps his, drinking deeply, and the sight of his throat working as he swallows has heat rushing through me. “I definitely can’t imagine being anywhere else. When Jeremy and I found each other, I was ready to leave Maryland, and I think I probably would have gone wherever he was, but I’m glad it was here. This is my place too.”
I want to ask him a zillion questions about his learning of his father’s affair and finding out he had a brother late in life, and how that affected him, but I get the sense he would shut right down if I tried. Maybe one day, but not now. Instead, I smirk at him, making a show of glancing around the loft. “If this is really your place, don’t you think you should maybe decorate it forChristmas or something? I mean, you don’t have so much as a tabletop tree. Do you even actually live here?”
Brian looks around, almost like he’s seeing his house for the first time. “Sometimes I wonder…” he murmurs, then he snaps his gaze back to me, as if he’s surprised those words came out of his mouth. “Jesus,” he mumbles. “The kitchen after dark is like a truth serum or something.”
His words mirror my thoughts so well that I just stare at him for a minute. “Maybe it’s the snow,” I say, glancing over at the windows. “I’ve always though the snow brought magic with it.” I pause for a second and then decide to just go for it. “What did you mean when you saidSometimes I wonder?”
Brian’s fists clench and he lets out a harsh breath, his gaze darting around the open kitchen and living room, his entire demeanor screaminguncomfortable. This man is oceans deep, and I suddenly want to discover all of his hidden depths. The oven timer chooses that second to ring, so I turn, giving Brian a minute while I take the cookies out and slide them onto the cooling racks I have set up. Grabbing a plate, I transfer a few hot cookies onto it and carry them to the island, sliding sideways onto a stool and looking back at Brian. “Want a cookie?”
His lips tip up in that half smile again and he comes over, taking the stool next to mine and turning sideways so he faces me, our knees bumping. Grabbing a cookie, he takes a bite and groans. “Holy fucking shit. This is the best cookie I’ve ever eaten,” he mumbles.
I don’t know if it’s the late night or Brian’s sleepy eyes or his perfectly messy hair or the snow still falling outside the window, but my brain chooses this moment to go rogue. “I bet my…cookie would be better.”
Holy cringe stop talking Liv oh my god.
Brian doesn’t seem put off at all by my cringe. Instead, his eyes shoot to mine, his gaze suddenly feral as it travels slowlydown my body and back up again and I heat from the inside out. The slow smirk that spreads over his face as his eyes meet mine again might be my undoing.
What the fuck is going on?
“I can’t wait to be the judge of that,” Brian says, his voice low and a little raspy. And then, as if that extremely hot and entirely weird moment didn’t just happen, he takes another bite of his cookie, his voice returning to normal. “Seriously though, this is amazing.”
“Right?” I ask, studying the cookies in front of me, because I may currently have damp underwear, but I’ll always take a compliment praising my baking prowess. Perfectly shaped with pools of caramel and melted chocolate on top, decorated with M&Ms and pieces of Reese’s cups. Masterpieces, if I do say so myself. “They’re my snow cookies.”
He swallows and reaches for another. “They should be your always cookies.”
I smile, taking a bite of mine, the flavors bursting in my mouth and bringing with them a thousand memories. “But then they wouldn’t be special. This was my mom’s recipe. She used to make them for us when we had a bad day or when we had something to celebrate. They weren’t a just because cookie. Monster cookies are cookies with purpose.”
“Cookies with purpose,” Brian says thoughtfully. “I like that.”
“Me too. So, aside from these being the cookies we eat when it snows, maybe they can also be the cookies we eat when you tell me why you don’t have Christmas decorations.”
Brian takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, studying my face, almost like he’s trying to decide if I’m a safe person to tell his secrets to. And suddenly, he’s not my older brother’s best friend, and I’m not his best friend’s ten-years-younger sister. We’re just two people, sharing cookies and middle-of-the-night secrets in the dark with a view of the falling snow.
“The easy answer is that I’m too busy to bother during football season. This time of year is manic. Either the season is winding down or, like this year, it’s a ramp up to the playoffs. I’m pulled in a million different directions all the time, and things like what my house looks like fall way down the list.”
“And the hard answer?”
Brian huffs out a laugh. “I figured you wouldn’t let me get away with the easy answer.”
I shrug, taking another bite of a cookie. “I’m not an easy answer kind of girl. I like to know everything. It’s the little sister in me.”
“You’re not my little sister,” Brian mumbles, his gaze falling to my lips, sending a bolt of heat straight to my core.
“No,” I say deliberately. “I’m not. But I am here, and so are you, so tell me a secret, Bry. I promise I’ll keep it safe.”
His eyes flash, either at the nickname or my promise to hold his secrets, and in a move so quick I barely even see it and so hot I forget to breathe, he captures one of my legs between both of his. “It didn’t seem worth the trouble.”
“Decorating?” I ask.
He nods. “All my friends have partners and kids, so when we get together, it’s always at one of their houses. Kids at Christmas, you know? There’s so much joy in all of their houses. So much love and laughter and fun that it makes sense to be there. But when I’m here, it’s just me. Decorating just for myself seemed kind of ridiculous, especially when no one ever comes here.” He shrugs, looking uncomfortable. “I never meant for this loft to be permanent. When I first came here to be close to Jeremy, they offered it to me since, by that point, Jeremy and Ben had homes and families of their own. I had just sold my company and was about to start my new job at the stadium, and it made sense at the time, you know? I always figured this would be temporaryand that I would settle down somewhere in Squirrel Hill closer to everyone, but five years later, I’m still right here.”
Brian runs a hand over his mouth like maybe he’s wishing he could shove all those words back in, but I heard them loud and clear, and one thought runs through my mind.
He’s lonely.
“I’m here,” I say, reaching out and laying a hand over his on the island. He immediately flips his hand over, lacing our fingers together, and I feel that touch everywhere.
