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The air between us grows heavy. Carefully, as if this moment were porcelain, I lower the shorts and fold them back, placing them into the drawer. My fingers tremble as I let them go.
“Eden Banks?” I whisper, my voice tight.
My heart twists in confusion. Eden and I were friends, connected through Billie and casual coffees, conversations about Bellamore, and the future we assumed was endless. Her life was cut too short five years ago. I’m speechless as I understand the magnitude of what Brody has carried for so damn long.
“I … I didn’t realize you two …” I say.
Brody remains still, his dark gaze steady on mine, shadows deepening in his expression. He releases a slow breath, as if trying to gather his words carefully before speaking.
“No one knew,” he finally says. “Except Weston and Billie.”
My throat tightens slightly. “Asher?”
“He knows now, but he didn’t back then,” he replies, pain weaving through his voice.
Brody crosses the small distance between us, sitting carefully on the edge of the bed. His gaze drops to his clasped hands, knuckles tight as he gathers strength.
“Eden and I … we were … brief. It was complicated. Just a fling. She wanted it to stay secret. It ended a week before she was killed.”
Silence stretches between us, broken only by the rain and my racing heart. I step closer without realizing it, sinking down beside him on the mattress. My shoulder brushes against his as I search for words.
“You never told anyone,” I say, pain flickering in my chest at the thought of Brody dealing with this alone for years on top of everything else he’s endured. “You’ve kept this bottled up?”
“Who would care?” He gives me a faint, weary smile, the kind that doesn’t reach his eyes. “I promised her it would stay between us. After she died, telling anyone felt like betrayal. It became easier to hold it in.”
I reach out slowly, resting my hand on his forearm, feeling the tension radiate through him. “You didn’t deserve to carry that alone. Eden wouldn’t have wanted that for you.”
His eyes find mine again. “I thought I could handle it. Then, over time, keeping secrets became second nature. Easier, safer for everyone.”
I grab his hand, turning to him, interlocking my fingers with his. “You protect everyone around you. But who’s protecting you?”
His lips part, but no sound emerges; the question catches him off guard. His eyes drift downward again; his expression moves into quiet resignation. “Myself.”
“No,” I say firmly, my voice steady despite how my heart aches for him. “You deserve to have someone be there for you, just how you’ve been there for everyone else. I’m so fucking sorry. I can’t imagine.”
Brody lifts his gaze again, watching me silently for a long, intense moment. The lines in his face begin to soften, gradually replaced by gratitude. “You’re the first person I’ve ever told.”
I smile. “Thank you for trusting me.”
Tenderness flickers across his face as he reaches out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “You’re the easiest person in the world to trust, Harp. Always have been.”
“I won’t tell anyone.” It’s a whispered promise.
“Thank you,” he offers.
The air between us grows warm and charged again. But this moment isn’t about passion; it’s about two hurt people finally laying down all their burdens and choosing to trust despite having every reason not to.
We sit close enough to share the comforting rhythm of each other’s breathing while the storm continues outside, washing away years of carefully built walls between us.
Neither of us says a word while the steady drumming of rain fills the silence around us, smoothing the edges of Brody’s confession. Our words linger between us as our thoughts wander. I never realized the weight he’d carried behind his guarded exterior. His sorrow runs much deeper than I could’ve guessed.
He slowly draws a breath, shifting his body toward mine on the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. “I’ve spent years convincing myself that everyone I cared about was better off if I stayed at a distance. I lose everyone I love.” His voice breaks slightly on the last word.
His tone shakes something loose inside me as I recognize the unbearable sadness in his words.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I whisper.
Brody stares down at our entwined hands, his thumb brushing over my knuckles. “It’s safer for everyone—and maybe for me too—if I keep those I care about at arm’s length. I’m fucking terrified because the world keeps proving me right.”