And I melt into it.
Into him.
Into the way his tongue finds mine, slow and sure. Into the way his hand finds the back of my neck, fingers stroking gently like I’m something he’s afraid to break. Into the weight of his body pressing against mine, the heat of him, the way the hard outline in his shorts digs into my stomach and makes my brain fuzz at the edges.
Brooks is hot. He’s kind. He’s patient. He knows how to hold a moment like it matters.
But he’s also Brooks.
Jasper’s best friend. The guy I never once thought I’d fall for. The guy who’s starting to feel like home when I’m not even sure where home is anymore.
Even if this goes somewhere… where does it go? Do I stay? Does he follow? And if one of us bends… what happens when it breaks?
***
I watch as Wren leans into Jasper, her smile soft and tentative as she looks up at him. There’s a gentle hush to the moment, like the world around them has gone still just long enough for her to be brave.
"She likes him," I murmur to Brooks as we grab our coffees from the counter.
He follows my gaze and nods, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. What’s not to like?"
I glance over at him, amused. "Jasper’s biggest fan, huh?"
Brooks sips from his cup before answering, his voice low and careful. "Did you know that his whole life—whole life—all Jasper’s ever wanted is to be a husband and a father?"
Somehow, in all the years of living in the room next to his, I missed the most important piece of him.
I blink fast. "Really?"
The word slips out softer than I expect, my thoughts catching up too slowly. I’ve lived under the same roof as Jasper. Shared cereal boxes and bike rides and whispered arguments through bedroom walls. But I didn’t know this. I didn’t know that at the center of his heart sat something so… beautifully simple.
A family.
Not fame. Not a career. Not escape.
Love. Stability. A home.
What does that say about me? That I didn’t know my own brother's dream?
Before I can press further, Brooks turns and calls over his shoulder, "Come on, Ellie."
I narrow my eyes and follow, still stunned. He just casually lobs an emotional grenade into my lap and walks away like he didn’t just change the entire lens I see my brother through.
He’s infuriating. Absolutely insufferable.
And yet—somehow—he sees everything.
I slide into the seat across from Wren just as Brooks drops into the chair beside me. His thigh brushes mine under the table—warm and steady—but we don’t move. We don’t talk about it. We don’t even look at each other. There’s comfort in the contact, sure, but neither of us has been brave enough to tell Jasper what’s happening between us. And maybe that’s for the best. If—or when—I leave, the less he knows, the easier it’ll be to pretend this never happened.
"So," Jasper says, clearing his throat, "you remember my sister, Elowen, right?"
Wren lifts her gaze to me, and her russet curls slip forward over one shoulder. She tucks them behind her ear with a graceful flick of her fingers. Her black-rimmed glasses perch delicately on the bridge of her nose, and a constellation of freckles dapple her cheeks. She’s effortlessly beautiful, and the kind of woman who probably doesn’t even realize it. But it’s not her looks thathold attention. It’s the quiet, observant way she watches Jasper. Like he’s the only person in the room.
"How long are you in town for?" Brooks asks, his tone easy, but I feel the subtle shift in him beside me.
Wren offers a shy smile. "Just a few days. I wish I could stay longer, but—"
"Top-secret classified information," Jasper interrupts with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows.
