Something ugly and unfamiliar twists in my chest.
Jealousy? Absolutely not.
This is Brooks. The same Brooks who called me selfish. Who’s been hounding me non-stop since I got here.
But also the same Brooks who looks really, really good without a shirt on.
I clench my jaw.Do not go there.
The driver’s side door swings open, and Brooks slides back into the truck.
I’m already staring out the window, pretending like I didn’t see anything at all.
"The date was really that bad?" Brooks pries, his voice tinged with amusement.
I shrug, refusing to look at him. "It was fine."
"Fine?" He laughs, clearly not buying it. "You mean you realized Holden was—"
"You were on a date," I interrupt, the realization crashing over me all at once.
Brooks shrugs, hands gripping the wheel as he pulls onto the dirt road. "It wasn’t anything serious."
"Does Mitsy know that?" I ask, my eyes narrowing.
He says nothing.
Exactly what I thought.
"And you call me selfish," I taunt.
Brooks’ grip on the steering wheel tightens. "It’s not the same thing, Ellie."
His voice is rough. Raw.
I twist in my seat to face him, the soft glow from the radio console casting flickering shadows across his face. "It is the same thing," I argue. "You stood there and called me selfish, and you’re no different. The only difference is, while I’m supposedly shirking responsibilities with my family, you’re leading on a perfectly innocent woman."
Brooks snorts. "She’s hardly innocent."
I grimace. "Don’t be gross." Then, I shake my head, laughing bitterly. "I can’t believe I actually had an existential crisis overwhat you said. But you’re no better than me. You just call it something different because you can."
Brooks exhales sharply, then, suddenly, pulls over to the side of the road. The truck rumbles into stillness, leaving us in near darkness, save for the faint blue glow of the dashboard.
He turns to me, his eyes dark and intense. And I know I’ve hit a nerve.
"It’s not the same damn thing," he says, low, controlled.
"Really?" I challenge.
"Mitsy knows I’m not building anything serious. I told her that from the start."
"Then what’s the point of stringing her along?" I demand, frustration bubbling in my chest. "If it’s not serious, then why even bother?"
Brooks drags a hand over his face. "Maybe I’m not like you." His words are quieter now, less sharp, but heavier somehow. "Maybe I don’t like being alone all the time."
The words sting. Because I feel that. Because I know exactly what that’s like.
"I don’t like being alone either," I admit, my voice softer. "I hate it. It’s literally the worst feeling in the world. But at least I’m honest about it." I take a deep breath, my pulse hammering in my ears. "Yeah, I’ve been a shitty daughter and a shitty sister," I say. "Can you say you’ve been a shitty… whatever it is Mitsy calls you?"
