Gareth smiles, purposely bumping into my shoulder. “This is the best non-date I’ve ever been on. Thanks for showing up.”
I look up at him, but his gaze is still pointed forward. “Well, to be fair, I didn’t know Dylan had canceled.”
His smile slips for a second until his head turns and he realizes I’m still watching him. He tilts his head. “Still think he’d kill us both?”
The air whooshes from my lungs, his question catching me off guard. My gaze falls to the sidewalk, and I play with my ring. Disappointment and longing settle in my chest. “Probably.”
Turning abruptly, he stops in front of me, catching my hand in his. “I’m starting to have a hard time continuing to give a shit what Dylan thinks, Indy.”
His eyes sear into mine, searching foranythinghe can grasp onto.
“He’d never forgive us.”
“He’d have to at some point,” he argues, shifting slightly. There’s no distance between us—we’re chest to chest, me looking up at him while he gazes down.
“We can’t…”
“I know.”
“He’s my brother, yourbestfriend. He made it clear years ago that he’d hate us both.”
“Dammit, Iknow.” Gareth steps back, running his hand through his hair in frustration. “I remind myself every day howmuch Dylan would hate us. It’s the only thing that’s stopped me from finally making youmine, Indy.”
Desperation courses through me at his words, his desire palpable between us. I swallow around the lump in my throat, and something inside of me snaps, another thread fraying.
I need time to think and to process whether I’m truly ready to take the risk of potentially blowing up one of the most important relationships of my life.
We’re both consenting adults, and I’ve wanted Gareth since the moment I met him. The fact we’re both tiptoeing around my brother’s—my grown ass, twenty-eight-year-old brother’s—feelings is insane.
But we are.
And one dinner can’t throw years of torture out of the window.
“I’ll walk the rest of the way to my car. Thank you for dinner, Gareth.”
Raking his hand through his hair again, he nods a few times, like he’s trying to talk himself off a ledge. “Anytime, Indy. I mean it. Anytime.”
There’s a second where I think he’s going to kiss me. He leans in, close enough where I can smell the faint notes of his cologne and hear the gentle rise and fall of his breathing. For a moment, time stands still. Anticipation clouds me, and I fight against my eyelids fluttering closed.
My heart’s cracked open and raw, bleeding in the palm of his hands.
Why do we do this to ourselves? This push and pull. The unnecessary heartbreak. The years of torment.
The warmth of his breath skates against my cheek as he dips his head, my eyes finally flickering closed. Then he whispers, “Goodnight, Trouble.”
A small gasp whistles past my lips as he pulls away, his steady presence being ripped away.
“Goodnight,” I rasp, my entire being thrown off-kilter from this entire exchange—this entire night, really.
By the grace of a higher power, my feet guide me the rest of the way to my parked car, although I don’t remember consciously deciding to walk away from him. The night feels darker now, and I’m hyperaware of every sound, every breath I take.
I’m acutely aware of Gareth following behind me, giving me space as he follows, but providing a safe presence I can’t help but to appreciate.
My keys tremble in my hand as I unlock the door, every fiber of my beingbeggingme to throw all caution to the wind, turn around, and run to him.
Turning just enough to look over my shoulder, I confirm what I already knew. Gareth stopped several feet away, standing under a streetlight, focusing entirely on me.
For a heartbeat, neither of us moves.
