Preston studied me for a moment, then said carefully, “Can I say something? You don’t have to agree.”
I nodded.
“If you already feel this way…like you have doubts about…well, any of it…maybe it’s worth slowing down. Onallof it.”
I let out a quiet breath and let his words wash over me. “I don’t know if I know how to do that.”
“I don’t either,” he said with an easy chuckle. “But onething I’ve learned from my brothers is that pretending everything is fine doesn’t usually help.”
“You’re not wrong.” I couldn’t help but laugh a little, the tension easing from my shoulders.
I reached for my beer, as the realization came a little too late. I was talking to Preston Lyons, of all people, about my life. And the strangest part of that was that itwasn’tstrange.
It felt good.
Reallygood.
“Thanks,” I said finally. “For listening. I don’t really know why I told you all of that.”
His eyes softened. “Maybe you just needed to get it out.”
I nodded. I definitely needed to get it out.
“Anytime you want to talk, Dots.” He winked.
It was an obnoxious nickname, but I was also starting to kind of like it. Another thing I wasn’t going to admit anytime soon.
When we stood to leave, Summit stretched and stood, bumping his head gently against my leg, following Preston like a shadow.
At the door, I hesitated, then stepped forward to give Preston a quick, spontaneous hug.
He froze for half a second before returning it, just as briefly.
I walked across the plaza, feeling lighter than I had all day.
I’d said far more than I’d meant to, and at the same time, exactly what I needed to.
Chapter Seven
Preston
Brody’s place felt smaller than usual. Of course, our family was growing more and more every day with girlfriends, fiancées, and new partners. And when everyone turned up for family dinner hungry and loud the way that we Lyons always were, the house I grew up in felt tighter than normal. And just like when I was a kid, I was on the constant lookout for an escape route to get outside and into the forest to flee the chaos.
It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family and these ridiculous weekly dinners. I did. Well, mostly. But my family had an annoying way of seeing things I didn’t want them to see. And with all the conflicted feelings I had swirling through me since my beers with Jess, the very last thing I needed was anyone trying to play therapist on me.
The kitchen was already crowded when I walked in. But it smelled delicious. “What’s for dinner?”
“Hey.” Brody glanced up from the sink. “Grab the plates and set the table. We’re almost ready.”
I grabbed the stack of plates right as Quinn walked in andhanded them directly to her. My niece gave me a look that told me she knew I was passing the buck. But she was a good kid, and took them with only a dramatic sigh and roll of her eyes.
Reid was at the counter, slicing a French loaf with precision. Delaney was at the stove stirring something that smelled like garlic and tomatoes, periodically swatting Ethan away when he tried to peer over her shoulder. Grayson leaned against the fridge, beer in hand, watching it all like it was the most entertaining show he’d seen in weeks.
“Harper at the restaurant?”
Grayson nodded. “Her part-timer called in sick, so she needed to be there for the dinner rush. But she’s hoping to join later.”
I accepted the beer he handed me from the fridge with a nod of thanks, feeling guilty for the flash of jealousy that washed through me that Harper was allowed to skip family dinner because she was the owner and head chef of the busiest restaurant in town. It really wasn’t that bad to spend time with my family. Theyweresome of my favorite people, after all.
