Page 56 of Falling For My Ex's Older Brother

The question lands in the corridor and sits there. She's watching me with those eyes that have always seen more than I've authorized them to see, her chin slightly lifted, waiting.

I look at her. "Why are you asking me that?"

She holds my gaze. "I'm just asking."

The corridor is quiet. I look at her and I think about my father's words, my mother's observation and the way Sutton moved through that room tonight. Something in my chest pushes against the place where I've been keeping it contained.

"I noticed you with Harrison tonight," I say.

She looks at me evenly.

"I'm allowed to have conversations with men. Is that a crime?"

The question lands cleanly. No anger in it. No apology. Just the plain truth of it delivered directly — the way she delivers everything when she's decided to be honest. The silence that follows is long. I feel the weight of what I'm about to say before I say it. The familiar pull toward deflection. The instinct to redirect, to manage, to keep it contained. I don't reach for any of it.

"I don't share well," I say.

It comes out simpler than anything I planned to say. She pauses for a moment, as if she was not prepared for those words to come out of my mouth. She blinks.

"What I mean is—" I stop. Start again.

"Watching other men look at you the way Harrison was looking at you tonight does something to me that I don't know what to do with." I hold her gaze.

"That's the honest answer."

She's quiet for a moment. Her expression has softened by a fraction — not much, but enough that I see it.

"Tonight was a lot," shesays quietly.

"I know."

"Your parents are—" She stops. Something crosses her face.

"Your mother is remarkable."

"She is."

"She loves you." She says it simply. Just a fact.

I look at her. "I know."

The silence between us shifts again. She looks at the keycard. She's about to say goodnight — I can feel it coming, the retreat into the adjacent room, the managed distance reasserting itself because it's what we do and we're both very good at it.

"Don't," I say.

She looks up.

"Stay." The word comes out of me before I've finished deciding to say it.

"Stay the night with me."

She looks at me for a long moment. Searching. I don't reach for anything smooth or controlled. I just hold her gaze and let her see what's actually there.

"Logan—"

"Please." The word is quieter than the one before it. Stripped of everything. I close the distance between us. My eyes are locked on hers, and my heart is beating out of my chest.

"I don't want to be without you tonight."