Page 165 of Collide

A tease. A promise. A game he’s fartoo goodat playing.

Alex’s breathis the only sound in the dark.

After our bath, we bundled ourselves into bed, clean and still flushed.

I was wrecked from the dancing, drinking, and teasing, and Alex was out within minutes, cock still hard, pressed thick and insistent against my thigh, a silent reminder of what I hadn’t let happen tonight.

And yet, here I am, wide awake, staring at the ceiling that I can’t even see.

Alex wants me. Makes me feel beautiful. Chosen.

So why am I thinking about Broderick?

His face tonight at the club.

Even now, curled against Alex, I see Broderick’s fingers on my lip. The what-ifs that continue to haunt me.

I press my face into the pillow and try to block it out. My head starts to throb as sleep evades me and an inevitable hangover creeps in. Ineedcomfort food. The thought alone makes my stomach protest loud enough to echo off the walls.

Carefully, I untangle myself from Alex’s heavy arm and grab my purse from the chair. I pad out of the room barefoot, each step muffled by the thick carpet, and make my way downstairs to the kitchen.

The house is quiet, the echoes of tonight’s shenanigans nothing more than a ghost now, secrets held by marble halls and too many closed doors. I’m not even sure what time it is—some ungodly hour where everything feels still.

As I round the corner toward the kitchen, the low hum of voices pulls me up short.

It’s Broderick. Talking to someone.

“Do you think it’s serious?”

His voice is low, tired.

“I don’t know,” the other man answers. It’s Andrew, I think.

“What do you think she sees in him?” Broderick asks.

The realization hits me hard. They’re talking about me.

A pause. Then, “Bro, do youlikeher?”

“No, no,” Broderick says quickly. “I’m just looking out for her. She’s Phil’s little sister.”

The words slam into me, cold and sharp.

But…he said he liked me.

Was that a lie? Or is he lying now, to Andrew?

Is he looking out for me?

Doubt creeps in, bitter in my mouth. I shouldn’t even feel this way. I’mwithAlex.

“Right,” Andrew replies, the disbelief unmistakable in his voice. “It’s been almost a year since Lauren.”

Who’s Lauren?

“Yeah,” Broderick says. “Work’s been…busy. Things are good. Momentum’s good. Profits are strong. We’re changing communities.” He sounds proud—all the right words, all in the right tone—but underneath, I hear it.

That loneliness.