Page 13

Chapter twelve

You and me, we’re happening

Jake

“ D ude, are you even listening?” Eli’s voice snaps me back to the present, and I realize I’ve been staring at Charlie again.

I look back to my teammates, watching me with varying degrees of amusement. The event’s in full swing, and I should be right in the thick of it, running on the energy in the room. But I’m only half present. The other half? Laser-focused on Charlie.

“Yeah, sorry,” I mumble, trying to follow the conversation. But it’s impossible. Not when Charlie’s just a few feet away, looking so damn beautiful it hurts.

Eli chuckles, following Ryan’s gaze to where Charlie’s in a cupcake stand-off with Zoe. “You’ve been watching her like she’s gonna vanish if you blink.”

Ryan claps me on the shoulder. “You’ve got it bad, Brooks.”

I don’t even care that they’re giving me shit. My brain’s on one track.

“Not denying it,” I mutter, eyes back on her. She’s laughing at something Zoe said, and it’s like I’m magnetized, drawn to every expression, every movement. The guys are right, and I couldn’t care less.

Chase smirks. “Whole room’s here for you, and she’s the only one you’re looking at.”

“That’s rich coming from you, Walton. How is Zoe?”

"She's onto her third cupcake and has threatened me with physical violence eight times so far."

The guys all laugh, but I’m restless. I’ve been antsy all day, and no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop thinking about Charlie. My eyes track her again, watching her walk back towards the kitchen.

Ryan gives me a nudge in that direction. “Go. Put us all out of our misery.”

I don’t argue. Sliding away from the crowd, I head toward the kitchen. Each step picks up my pulse, sharpening my focus. I’ve been in a fog of speeches and handshakes, but now I know exactly what I want.

Charlie’s been incredible all day, moving between the kitchen and the dessert table, making sure everything’s perfect. I’ve watched her from a distance, and she’s seamless. So natural, so at ease.

But what gets me is how she is with my teammates. She’s met most of them today, along with their families, and somehow she fits right in. Like she’s always belonged here, in my world. And in my arms and bed, if I get my way.

Every now and then, she’s caught me watching her, and those green eyes meet mine like they’re tuned just to me. Crashing right through the surface, through all the bullshit, and seeing right into the core of what’s real.

When I step into the kitchen, she’s at the counter carefully arranging a tower of desserts. Her hair’s fallen slightly from her clip to frame her face, and she’s humming softly to herself. It’s a simple thing, but watching her is a reminder of every reason I fell for her all those years ago.

I’m not even trying to be subtle as I lean against the doorframe. With her back to me, I unashamedly watch the way her body moves as she works. It’s intoxicating.

“Need a hand?”

She startles slightly, glancing over her shoulder, and when our eyes meet the oxygen leaves my lungs. Her smile’s warm, a little surprised.

“I’m good, thanks,” she says, turning back to her work. But I see her hands falter just for a second, her focus shifting as she decorates her tiny tower of cakes.

I push off the doorframe and step closer, hands in my pockets. I want to be near her. Need to be closer.

“You’re good with that thing,” I say, nodding toward the tower, trying to keep it casual.

“It’s called a croquembouche,” she says, her mouth tugging in a slight smile.

“I’m not even going to try to pronounce that,” I chuckle, taking another step. “But it looks amazing.”

She shrugs, but there’s a quiet pride in her expression. “Years of practice.”

“It’s impressive, Charlie girl.”

She doesn’t look at me, just keeps focusing on the dessert. But I see the way her shoulders tense with her breath. I’m getting to her, and it feels damn good to know I have this effect.

“You’re supposed to be out there, schmoozing everyone,” she says, trying to sound nonchalant.

“Well, you looked like you might need a hand.”

“Ever the gentleman,” she retorts. “Didn’t think you’d be the type to hide back here.”

“Wouldn’t call this hiding. Just wanted to be wherever you are.” I take another step.

Her lips twitch, even as she tries to hold her composure. “Think you can just charm your way into my kitchen, Brooks?”

“Maybe.” I move closer still, gaze dropping to her lips before meeting her eyes again. “Though if I wanted to charm you, I’d start by telling you I’ve spent twelve years trying to hold onto the way you made me feel the last time I had you this close."

She lets out a small scoff. “You’re still a smooth talker, that part hasn’t changed.”

“Only with you.”

Her eyes dart to me briefly, and I see it. Hesitation, curiosity, a flicker of want. It's subtle, but it's there, and all I want to do is fan it. She sucks her plush lower lip between her teeth, glancing away, and that’s it. I’m gone.

Every good intention I’ve clung to—giving her space, not rushing things—shatters in an instant. Because fuck it. Fuck waiting. Fuck caution. I’ve spent twelve years wondering if this moment would ever come and now she's right here, standing in front of me like a goddamn miracle. I’m not wasting another second.

“ Charlie.” I reach out, brushing a loose strand of hair from her face, letting my thumb drift along her cheekbone. Her skin is warm beneath mine, and her breath hitches just enough to wreck any resistance left in me.

She leans into my touch, eyes locked on mine, and it’s like this thing between us, this fire that’s been smoldering since we last saw each other, finally lights up.

Her eyes drop to my lips, and I feel my heartbeat trip. I move my thumb to trace her lower lip, feeling her breath tremble against my skin.

“Jake…” Her voice is barely a whisper, like she’s not sure if she should pull away.

“I’m right here,” I murmur. “If you want me to stop, tell me.”

Her eyes widen, flicking between mine, but I wait, giving her the choice. I want this kiss, I've wanted it for so many years, but I need her to want it, too.

“God, you’re beautiful.” The words escape before I can catch them, but I don’t regret a single syllable. Instead, I let my eyes trace the lines of her face, waiting, hoping she’ll lean in.

For a second, I think she might step back. Her eyes hold mine, uncertainty flickering like she’s still deciding if this is allowed—if we’re allowed. But just when I think I’ve read this wrong, she leans up to close the distance, her lips brushing against mine in a tentative, soft touch.

It’s barely there, a whisper of a kiss, like she’s testing the waters. But it’s enough to set every nerve in me alight. The second her mouth parts slightly, every ounce of restraint I’ve been clinging to crumbles.

The heat between us ignites, flaring like a spark catching dry tinder. My hand slips into her hair to tilt her closer, my other finding the curve of her waist to steady us both. Her fingers twist into the front of my shirt, holding on like she’s afraid to let go. But as she melts into me, her arms wind up around my neck, pulling me in as if we’re both starving for this.

Time collapses around us, every missed moment and unspoken word filling the spaces between each drag of our lips. Every night she’s felt alone and I’ve felt lost, every memory that's lingered with an ache—it’s all right here, in this kiss. She tastes like red wine and something uniquely her, and I realize this is it . I want to fill every corner of her heart that’s been left waiting, every dark space that’s ever been hurt or broken. I don’t ever want to stop.

Her fingers flex i n my hair, a soft sound escaping her as the kiss deepens. A groan slips from me, rumbling into her as I press her closer, needing her to feel how real this is. It’s every unsaid promise, every piece of me I want to give her.

When we finally pull back, we’re both breathless, and the air between us feels charged and fragile. Her eyes are wide and searching mine, her lips flushed and slightly parted. It takes everything I have not to pull her back in, to show her how far gone I am for her.

Fuck.

She stares at me with her fingers pressed to her lips, and I can see the doubt creeping in, the rush of thoughts crashing over her.

“Oh God, Jake, I… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“Hey, hey.” I catch her hand, keeping her close. “Don’t apologize.” My thumb brushes over her knuckles, hoping to ground her. Ground me .

Her eyes search mine hesitantly, like she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. But all I feel is relief. Relief that I’ve finally kissed her, finally shown her how I feel.

“I just… I wasn’t sure if… this is what you wanted.”

“What I wanted ? Charlie, I’ve wanted to kiss you since that last night at camp,” I confess, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “And now that I have, I’m not letting it go.”

I can see her wrestling with herself, the mix of emotions flashing in her eyes. Relief, fear, hope. Gently, I tug her back into me, not ready to let her go just yet. This is it for me.

“But you know what else I want?” My eyes roam her face, trying to read her. “A date. With you.”

She blinks, processing. “A date?”

“Yeah. Because after that kiss, I’m not stopping at just one.”

Her brows knit together, a hint of doubt crossing her face. I can see her struggling, sorting through all the reasons to say no.

“Jake, this… it’s moving fast. I’m not sure—”

“Maybe it feels fast to you,” I say, cutting in softly. “But I’ve been waiting for this moment for twelve years.” I cup her jaw, thumb brushing slowly over her cheek. “I know what I want. And I think you do, too.”

She hesitates and looks down, but I’m not having it.

“Don’t second-guess this.” I lift her hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “This is real, Charlie. You and me, we’re happening.”

She looks at our joined hands, and I can see it—the spark she’s trying to push down and ignore, but she can’t.

“Please, Charlie girl?” My thumb traces slow circles over her skin. “All you need to do is say yes.”

She looks up slowly, and when her eyes meet mine, I see her decision in them. The edge of her lips curl, and she whispers, “Okay.”

A smile spreads across my face, a quiet victory. “Tomorrow,” I say, giving her hand a final squeeze as I step back. “I’ll pick you up at seven.”

She nods, cheeks still flushed, and I see the thrill mixed with nerves in her eyes. I want to kiss all that doubt right out of her, to hold her close and remind her how real this is. Tell her I’m all in, and I’m not going fuck this up. But I hold back, knowing I need to give her time.

At least, I try to.

“Wait,” I murmur, stepping back into her space. Her lips part, breath catching as I cup her jaw again. “One more, just one.”

I kiss her again, softer this time, less urgency and more promise. Her fingers curl into my shirt, and I feel her smile against my mouth when I pull back. But it’s not enough.

“Okay,” she whispers, cheeks pink. “We should—”

“Hang on.” I cut her off, hands still framing her face as I steal another kiss. Her laugh is muffled against my lips, and when I pull away, her brows lift in amusement.

“Jake—”

“Last one, I swear.” I dip my head to kiss her again, savoring the way she softens against me. Her hands slide to my shoulders, and I can tell she’s trying not to laugh. I peck her softly once, twice, and then reluctantly pull back.

“We really should get back out there,” she says, swiping at her hair and nodding toward the hallway.

She’s right, but it takes all my self-control to let her go.

“ Okay, okay. I’m done… for now,” I say, feeling the ache of separation already. I push down the need to keep her close, even though every cell is screaming at me to do the opposite.

Stepping back into the event is like a cold splash of reality. The noise and lights are a sharp contrast to the quiet intensity of what just happened. All I want is to bundle her and the kids into my car to take them home, and hold her in my arms until the sun comes up.

Instead I force a smile, shake hands and make small talk, but none of it feels real.

The only real thing is her. Charlie, the promise of tomorrow, and the certainty I’ve waited twelve years to feel.