Violations designed to scare, to break down, to separate us.
And it worked.
And…
The sip of hot chocolate sits heavily in my stomach and my head is spinning.
“Can we just…” I tilt my head in the direction of the couch. “…sit down?”
“Yeah, baby.” And just like always—or likealmostalways, I amend, my mind on that rainy mountaintop, my dress soaked through, my carefully styled hair hanging limply around my face, clinging to my cheeks, the chill seeping into my bones—he gives me what I want.
He walks across the open space, settles on one end of the couch.
Since he forgot it, I snag his beer, bring it with me.
“Thanks,” he murmurs when I hand it to him.
I nod in reply, sit on the other side of the couch, and look at my hot chocolate.
Mostly because I have no idea what to say.
As though sensing that, he fills in the emptiness with exactly what I need.
Not the painful past. Not the vast distance gaping between us.
He gives me something…light.
“You remember Jace’s wife, Marie?”
I nod. Jace had spoken a lot about his wife while we ate pizza (and carefully avoided everything to do with me being back in Brooks’s life and the way it all went so badly before). It was beautiful—the way his face softened, the tone of his voice.
I didn’t even need to listen to his actual words to know how much he loves her.
It’s clear as day.
And it made me ache and rage and…be so damned happy he had her.
That they had each other.
“I remember,” I murmur.
“Want to know how they first got together?”
I nod again and then he’s telling me a story about work rivals and a stolen Lyft and apartments on the same floor, about Marie’s place flooding and Jace winning her over with cookies.
“I love that for him,” I say when he finishes.
His mouth kicks up. “You’ll love her too,” he says.
As though I’m going to meet her.
As though I’m going to slot myself back into his life.
There’s no way.
I can’t let that happen.
“Brooks,” I begin.
