Page 30 of Brewer Family Collection, Part 1

Blakely

E verything hurts.

Groaning, I roll over and squint against the muted sunlight. The softest mattress in the universe dips as I move onto my side. The bedding smells faintly of Renn and fabric softener, making me smile from ear to ear.

I know he’s gone, but I tap against his side of the bed anyway. My fingers curl against the empty sheets.

“Ugh.”

My brain is foggy. I have no clue what time it is and even less of an idea about the day of the week. Time changes and jet lag, surfing, and three rounds of sex yesterday have left me clueless.

It takes a few minutes to fully awaken and convince myself I can stand without dying.

I get to my feet, slipping on a Tennessee Royals shirt that Renn let me borrow to walk to the kitchen last night. It hangs like a dress. But there’s something wonderful about being encompassed by something of his.

My toiletries are in a bag on the counter in the bathroom. I’m not sure how they got there, but when we woke in the middle of the night, still wonky from our traveling, and hopped in the shower, there they were.

I quickly brush my teeth, wash my face, and comb my hair. Then I venture into the closet.

Just as Astrid promised, a box of my things is on the square table in the center of the room. The llama propped up beside it makes me smile.

Brock packed a random assortment of shirts, shorts, shoes, and dresses.

Thank God he didn’t get into my lingerie drawer.

That would’ve been awkward. He added my computer and planner—because I refuse to go fully digital, and every item sitting on my vanity.

At the bottom of the box is a note on top of a framed picture of me, him, and our mother from my living room.

Tears fill my eyes.

B,

You have twenty-six lip balms. Did you know that? WHY?

Renn asked me to grab you some things. I did my best. I locked everything when I left and set the security system. You had food in the fridge, and I’m sure you’re not returning to get it. So I took it. You know I love hummus.

I know I’ve been an asshole, and I’d like to apologize to you in person. You’re my favorite person in the world (don’t tell Ella that). You deserve a face-to-face conversation. Please call me when you get back.

Brock

I place the note on the counter and dress. Oh, Brock.

It’s felt so wrong to be at odds with my brother. He’s been my person for so long, so for him to write this note means he’s struggled with the past few days as much as I have. I could use one of your hugs right now, brother.

I blink back a tear.

My emotions are all over the place. I’m sure it’s the culmination of the past week, topped with Brock remembering to send a picture of us with our mother that’s the cause. Still … I hate being overly emotional .

I trace my fingers over the glass—something I’ve done a million times.

The three of us are so happy in the image.

I remember Mom asking a stranger to stop and snap a picture that day, slinging her arms around our waists.

Brock is bent, whispering something that I’m sure was wholly inappropriate.

Her face is mid-laugh. My head is on Mom’s shoulder while I cheese for the camera.

Sniffling, I stand the picture under the llama. “Keep this safe, okay?”

My cheeks are damp. I wipe them with the hem of my shirt as I journey through Renn’s house.

The ceilings look higher, the molding more detailed. The rooms are more magical today. Ceiling fans cause the extra-long curtains to flutter against the beautiful floor.

I find my phone next to the sink. Leaning against the cabinet, I open the screen and see a list of texts—but my interest goes to the one on top. Renn’s .

Renn: Good morning, cutie. It was so hard, pun intended, to get out of bed with you still in it this morning.

Why aren’t we still in Australia again? I have a physical and a meeting with the Royals today.

Their facility is close to Bianca’s office, so I might swing by before coming home.

Mom has already “suggested” we have a family dinner tomorrow night so everyone can meet you.

If that’s too much pressure, say the word.

I’ll never argue about getting to keep you all to myself.

I smile.

Me: Good morning, handsome. You’ll have to wake up a little earlier so it’s not so hard when you get out of bed.

Pun intended. I will check my email, try to figure out what I still need, and grab it from my house.

Family dinner sounds fun. Will I get to meet Tate?

I hope you have a great day. I’ll be home when you get here. heart emoji

This . I hold my phone to my chest and close my eyes. This feeling is what I’ve always been after .

The device buzzes against me.

Renn: Tate isn’t invited. You can be mad at me, but Foxx is there with you. I asked him to accompany you if you leave. Please don’t fight me on this. We can talk about it tonight, but I need to focus today, and I can’t do that if I’m worried about you. praying hands emoji

I want to be annoyed at him. If it were any other person or situation, I would be. I’d probably leave to prove a point. But … I’m not. And I won’t.

His words make me feel safe. Protected. Valued. He’s not trying to take over my life or control my movement. He genuinely cares about me.

Me: I promise I won’t go anywhere without Foxx.

Renn: Thank you.

Me: It’s going to cost you …

Renn: I was hoping you were going to say that. devil emoji

Me: kissing emoji

I send quick texts to Ella and Brock, letting them know I’m back. They reply to tell me they’re coming over—separately.

“Let’s hope they’ve figured their stuff out,” I say, making a cup of coffee. “Because I don’t want them ruining my vibe.”

I find some milk and add it to my mug. As I put it back, I spot the notebook Astrid was telling me about yesterday.

Sipping the liquid caffeine, I open the bright yellow cover.

Sure enough, there are phone numbers, notes, dates, and times listed across three pages.

Each item is categorized—the house, Renn, food, staff, family, emergency contacts, schedules, and miscellaneous.

The top of the first page in bold letters reads I’M HERE TO HELP.

There’s a quality about Astrid that I love; I liked her as soon as I met her. I think we could be friends, and the thought makes me smile.

Maybe I can fit into Renn’s world .

I save her number on my phone before getting up. My mug warms my hands as I mosey my way through the house.

Renn’s home is a balance of understated and grand.

There’s no way to look at it and not know it costs millions.

Yet there’s not one singular thing that screams pretentiousness.

I can imagine the rooms filled with friends at Thanksgiving and presents at Christmas.

A party by the pool with the grill going and music playing.

And babies scooting across the floor in walkers, babbling their first words.

I pause in the sunroom doorway with my chest on fire. I stare across the expansive lawn at the back of the house.

This house was built for a family. It was designed for memories and holidays—for birthday parties and backyard rugby games. But he’s never said he wants any of that with me.

I try to swallow around the lump in my throat.

Things between us have been heavenly. Almost too good to be true.

Maybe they are too good to be true.

Yet having had days with Renn—having him open himself up to me in ways I didn’t expect—it’s hard not to feel blissful.

He’s a good man. I knew this, but I had written him off, possibly much like his father, and I feel terrible for that.

I hadn’t realized how lonely it must truly be for someone at the top.

He trusts some of his family, he trusts Astrid and Brock, but he doesn’t really have many people in his corner.

He doesn’t feel like it, at least. And if there’s one thing I’m convinced of, I want to be one of those people he can count on.

And I can’t see that stopping in ninety days.

I fight against my inclination to hope for the best—to put what I want into the universe. I fight even harder to keep from admitting what I really want for myself … Renn .

The way he makes me feel is incredible. Who would’ve thought the bad boy of rugby would be so … everything. He’s passionate and kind. He has major protector vibes. The sex is incredible, and he makes me feel like I’m the only person who matters to him. Hell, he even volunteered to give me a baby.

I’m mid-drink when the realization hits me. He’s a nice man .

Slowly, I lower the mug and get the mouthful of coffee swallowed.

The room begins to spin.

I’m in love with Renn Brewer.

“No. No, no, no,” I say, carrying my drink back to the kitchen. “This can’t be happening. I’m just in a sex haze. That’s all.”

Despite saying the words out loud, I know I’m lying. I really do love him.

A hundred thoughts race through my mind. Everything from how did this happen ? to what do I do now ?

I set my coffee next to the sink and breathe deeply.

We promised to abort this mission if either of us had real feelings for the other. I made the damn rule. But the thought of walking away from him makes me want to vomit.

Quickly, my thoughts turn to rationalization.

What will it hurt to ride this out? It’s just three months. We’re having fun. If I keep my mouth shut and don’t make this weird, I can slowly detach myself from him over the next few months so it hurts less when it’s over.

I nod as my plan coalesces in my brain. “Yes. Just admit reality, and you’ll be fine. Like Ella said in Vegas—manage the explosion so you don’t implode.” My brows pull together. “Or whatever.”

I need to do something to distract myself from this rabbit hole. Renn’s mention of dinner at his mother’s house jumps to my mind as if my declaration of love somehow puts pressure on meeting his family.

“I’m a fool,” I say, reaching for my phone anyway.