Page 18

18

B rooks

Having Michelle in my arms, naked and warm from the water, might have been my new favorite thing. She fit against me in a way that felt almost too perfect, like she was supposed to be there, like she belonged. The way her body molded to mine, soft yet strong, made it impossible not to wonder what it would be like if this wasn’t just one night at a time.

But Michelle was too independent, too stubborn, too determined to outrun the weight of her past to let someone hold onto her for too long. I knew that, understood it, but it didn’t stop me from wanting to pull her closer.

She sighed against my chest, her breath warm and steady, but the tension in her shoulders told a different story. I tightened my grip around her, rubbing slow circles on her back, trying to keep her anchored here, with me, in this moment. She wasn’t pushing me away yet, but I could feel the shift—the one that always came right before she convinced herself she had to leave.

She had done this before. Two years ago, she gave me just enough before locking the rest away. I had seen the same thing in her eyes then, the hesitation, the quiet retreat into herself. I wasn’t going to let her do it again.

Pressing a kiss to her neck, I let my lips linger, let my fingers thread through hers, squeezing gently to remind her she wasn’t alone. My voice was steady when I asked, “What’s wrong, Mitch? Are you regretting us?”

Her body tensed instantly, every muscle going rigid against me. The reaction was so instant, so telling, that my stomach clenched in response.

"What? No. Why?" Her voice came too quickly, the words clipped, defensive.

I exhaled, my chest rising and falling slowly, willing myself to stay calm. "First, your body just went stiff as hell, and I know you," I said, keeping my voice even. "You've been different since we came upstairs, and I want to know why. Did I do something?"

She didn’t answer immediately, but I could feel her thoughts racing, the way her heartbeat picked up where it pressed against my ribs. Her toe tapped against the floor of the tub, the only tell she couldn’t control.

Finally, she let out a slow breath. "No," she murmured, but the way her voice wavered like it always does when she was lying. "We’re okay."

I clenched my jaw and pulled back just enough to search her face. The hesitation, the way she avoided my eyes, the edge of uncertainty in her tone—it was all there, plain as day. She wasn’t okay.

"Stop lying to me." My voice came out a little rougher than I intended, but I didn’t take it back. There was no reason to sugarcoat it. I could already feel her slipping, and I had no intention of letting her go without a fight.

She exhaled sharply, lifting our joined hands and staring at them like she was trying to find an answer in the spaces between our fingers. For a long moment, she didn’t say anything, and I could see the war happening behind her eyes. She was debating how much to give me, how much she could afford to say without giving too much of herself away.

Then, finally, she spoke. “We are okay, B. I promise. I just… there was a misunderstanding on my part, but I sorted it out.

Something about her words made my stomach tighten further. I narrowed my eyes. "What the hell does that mean?"

She swallowed, her fingers tightening around mine before she forced out, "I assumed something in our… togetherness… and it’s my fault I got upset."

Togetherness.

I let the word settle between us, the meaning sitting heavy and unspoken.

Enough of this. I reached for her shoulders, gently but firmly turning her toward me, forcing her to look at me instead of hiding behind half-truths and vague confessions. She had her walls up again, and I could practically hear them stacking back into place, one by one.

"Michelle, please be honest with me." My voice was calmer now, more steady, more sure. "You call it togetherness—" I made a show of finger-quoting it, watching as she rolled her eyes. "But we both know that’s code for relationship. So tell me why you’re looking at me differently than you did before we walked through that door."

Her nose scrunched slightly, like she was trying to suppress something—annoyance, frustration, maybe even guilt.

"You can tell?" she asked, almost reluctantly.

"Yes," I said without hesitation. "You had this look like I was the best thing, and I loved it. It made me inexplicably happy, but now it’s gone. Was it Logan?"

She immediately looked away.

A cold, ugly thought slithered into my mind before I could stop it.

Was she attracted to him?

I erased it immediately. It was absurd, ridiculous. Voicing it would only make things worse.

When she finally met my gaze again, there was something uncertain in her expression, something hesitant. "I’ve shared more with you than any other human," she admitted, voice low. "It was hard, and I don’t regret doing it. I trust you. But I assumed—again, my bad—that you would feel the same."

And just like that, everything clicked.

I had stopped Logan from talking about Mom.

And Michelle had taken it as a rejection.

She thought it meant I didn’t trust her the way she trusted me.

Damn it.

"Mitch… damn." I ran a hand down my face, exhaling sharply. "I get it now."

Her shoulders went rigid again. "Get what?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"My mom."

She froze, the air between us thick with something fragile.

I could see the way her walls braced, like she was preparing for me to give her some half-assed explanation.

Instead, she blinked, forced a casual tone, and muttered, "It’s no big deal. Seriously, don’t worry. It’s not my business, and telling me something out of guilt is worse than saying nothing."

Then she moved.

Too quickly.

"You know, I should head home. I’m tired, and?—"

"Stop. Just give me a second."

She shook her head, already reaching for the towel, already wrapping herself in it like a shield.

"No. No. This is for the best."

Her voice was quieter now, but the finality in it made my heart lurch.

"I think, yes. Let’s wait a while before hanging out?"

I didn’t let her take another step.

Before I even thought about it, I was out of the tub, grabbing a towel, and pulling her into my arms.

“Put me down, you goon.” Michelle’s voice was exasperated, but her body curled into me anyway, her hands clutching my shoulders even as she pretended to fight it.

“Not until we have this conversation.” I carried her to the bed and set her down, my hands lingering on her thighs before I stepped back. Pointing a finger at her, I shook my head, no longer caring how ridiculous I looked. “You are not running from this because you think it was a slight against you.”

Her jaw tightened, and I could see the fight flicker across her face. “I’m not running,” she muttered, but when I gave her a hard look, she sighed, dropping her shoulders. “Okay, I was running.”

“Can I trust you to stay put if I put on sweats?” I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

“Yes, if I can borrow a shirt so I’m not naked.”

“Deal.”

I turned to my dresser, grabbing a pair of black sweats and tossing her an old college T-shirt. She caught it with ease and pulled it on without hesitation, the oversized fabric draping past her waist, making her look small and effortlessly perfect in my clothes. My chest tightened at the sight, but now wasn’t the time to say anything.

Once I was dressed, I turned back to her, my voice lower now, steady but firm. “You can’t seriously think I don’t trust you.”

She blinked, lips parting slightly before she caught herself.

I sat down beside her, my leg pressing against hers, letting the silence stretch for a moment before speaking again. “We don’t talk about what I do for a living often—which, honestly, is refreshing—but part of that life is worrying about my picture getting leaked doing something that could hurt my career. Or people using me for money or fame.” Meeting her gaze, I let my words sink in before continuing. “I have never worried about that with you. Not for even half a second. We could have the worst breakup in the world, and I know you would still keep everything between us where it should be—between you and me.”

She hesitated, her fingers curling around the hem of my shirt, but her expression had softened. “How would you know that?” she asked, her voice quieter now.

“Because I know you ,” I said simply, my thumb brushing slow circles over her knuckles. “You don’t give trust easily, but when you do, it’s forever.”

Her lips parted slightly, and before she could overthink it, she reached for me.

Score.

I laced my fingers through hers, squeezing gently, letting her feel that I wasn’t letting go.

“My reason for not talking about what happened today in front of you isn’t because I don’t trust you,” I said, watching as her gaze flicked to my face, reading every detail. “I do, without a doubt. It’s… hard. When I’m with you, I’m happy. I forget the weight of everything I carry around every day. I crave that with you.”

Her shoulders dropped slightly, and I saw the moment her guard lowered again.

“If you aren’t ready to talk about it, then don’t.” Her fingers trailed along my wrist as she shifted, moving to straddle my lap, her arms sliding around my neck. The tension that had been humming between us like an electric charge began to fade, replaced with something softer, something warmer.

“I’m sorry I made it about me and my issues.” She sighed, resting her forehead against mine. “Again, I’m a mess.”

I ran my hands up her back, holding her firmly in place, like I could keep her from slipping through my fingers again. “You’re worth figuring out.”

She let out a small laugh, then surprised me by hugging me tightly, her body molding against mine like she needed this as much as I did.

Her arms wrapped around me, and for a full minute, she just held on.

And I held on right back.

When she finally pulled back, her eyes searched mine, something vulnerable flickering behind them. “Did we just survive a fight?”

I chuckled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “It wasn’t a fight.”

“Sure felt like one.”

I smirked but kept my tone serious. “You have to explain your thoughts when you get the urge to run, okay?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then exhaled slowly. “I was going to leave. After you fell asleep.”

The words hit me like a punch to the ribs.

I shook my head immediately. "None of that. Promise me. I don’t care what happens—don’t leave without talking to me again."

Her gaze dropped, her fingers playing with the fabric of my shirt as she let the words settle. “You’re right,” she finally admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The silence stretched, something unspoken hanging between us, and I could feel her walls shifting, teetering between letting me in and shutting me out.

Then, quietly, she asked, “Have you figured out why I ended it two years ago?”

I raised a brow. “Can you read my mind? Are you a wizard?”

She let out a soft laugh, but there was something fragile in her expression, something that told me this wasn’t just a casual conversation anymore.

I tilted my head, keeping my voice gentle but firm. “I have not figured out why you slammed the door in my face and stopped answering my texts.”

She winced, and I knew that was the reaction she expected me to have. I watched her steady herself, her fingers tightening slightly on my wrist.

“It was because I was breaking my own rules,” she admitted, her voice softer now.

A slow, tight pull formed in my chest. I ran my hands up and down her bare thighs, coaxing her to keep going. “Which ones?”

Her eyes met mine, and for a long moment, she said nothing. Then, she took a deep breath and said, “Growing feelings for you."

The words settled between us, heavy and unshakable.

“I was terrified," she continued. "It was easier back then to just stop it before it went too far.” She closed her eyes for a moment before continuing, "I started moving things around for you, not getting As on tests because we were up too late the night before. I realize now I should’ve talked to you, but we agreed to just hook up, and you never indicated you wanted more.”

I did.

I definitely did.

Pulling her closer, I ignored every warning bell telling me she could still run, telling me to proceed with caution.

“What’s different now?” My voice was a murmur against her skin. “Why give us a chance?”

Her fingers curled into my shirt, gripping tight, like she needed something solid to hold on to. She didn’t hesitate. “I’m not ready to let you go.”

The words landed like a weight in my chest. I exhaled slowly, then pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, letting her words sink in.

“You’re going to kill me,” I muttered, my lips still against her skin. “But I think it’ll be worth it.”

She didn’t say anything when I moved us under the covers, didn’t argue when I turned off the lights and pulled her into my chest.

But she didn’t leave, either. That was enough.

“Good night, Brooks,” she murmured, her fingers tracing lazy circles over my chest.

“You too, baby.” I sighed, content for now.

She might leave tomorrow, but for the first time, I had hope she wouldn’t. And for the first time, I was ready to tell her about my mom. “I want to tell you about my mom tomorrow.”

“Only if you’re ready,” she whispered against my neck.

“I am.”

* * *

I missed Michelle’s bed. It was small and a little lumpy, but it forced us to sleep tangled together, her warmth pressed against me, her slow, steady breaths a rhythm I had unknowingly memorized. My own bed was too big, too much empty space between us, and waking up to cold sheets had never felt like this before—like something was missing.

I bolted up, expecting her to be gone, the lingering warmth of her body fading from my skin like a ghost.

But she wasn’t.

Thank God.

She lay face down, sprawled out like a starfish, her hair a mess of wild curls against my pillow, my old college T-shirt bunched up around her waist, exposing the smooth curve of her ass.

If I could take a mental picture to carry with me on bad days, this would be it.

It was barely eight in the morning, but I didn’t want her to miss anything. Not the sun creeping through the blinds, not the lazy warmth of the sheets, not the way I could wake her up the right way.

Scooting closer, I wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her on top of me, my hands immediately skimming down her back, over the fabric of my shirt that was now hers.

"Morning," I murmured against her bare shoulder, kissing the warm skin there.

She groaned in response, squinting one eye open, her face half-buried in my chest.

"Did you just wake me up?" Her voice was sleep-thick, raspy in a way that shot straight to my already half-hard cock.

"Yes."

"No more of that. That’s a deal-breaker for me." She let out a dramatic sigh, pressing her face deeper into my neck like she could block out the world. Her breath was warm against my collarbone, her scent a mix of sleep and faint vanilla, and I buried my face in the spot where her neck met her shoulder, inhaling her in.

"Brooks, I swear…"

“I wasn’t sure of your schedule today," I admitted, rubbing my hand down her bare thigh, feeling the slight shiver under my touch. "It’s eight. I’d hate for you to oversleep and miss something important because I kept you up."

She let out a groan, lifting her head just enough to glare at me.

"You say that like you aren’t the reason I’m exhausted."

I chuckled as she flopped onto her back, staring at the ceiling with fake irritation, her hair a complete mess, her lips still kiss-swollen from last night.

"It’s hard to be annoyed with you when you’re being decent," she muttered, turning her head to look at me.

"Decent?" I smirked, rolling onto my side to face her.

Her eyes softened slightly, like she was seeing something in me she hadn’t allowed herself to before.

"I think I like you best when you smile."

I let the words settle between us for a second longer than necessary, letting them sink into my ribs and stay there.

"I’ll make sure to do it more," I murmured, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. “Now, breakfast. Want me to make something or do you want to go out?”

She nibbled her lip, her eyes flickering with something darker, something that sent a rush of heat straight through me.

"How about you are breakfast?"

My smirk widened.

Sure enough, she rolled on top of me, sliding down my body, her mouth hot and teasing, her tongue wicked as hell.

By the time we made it downstairs, Michelle’s cheeks were flushed, her lips curved in satisfaction, and I had completely forgotten that my brother existed.

That was, until Logan grinned like a damn fool, his gaze dropping straight to Michelle’s bare legs.

"Shit," I muttered, immediately stepping in front of her, blocking his view.

Logan just smirked, taking a slow sip of his coffee, eyes filled with unholy amusement. "You two kids have fun last night? Did you use protection?" His grin widened when I flipped him off. "I swear I heard an animal dying at one point."

"Shut up," I warned, smacking the back of his head.

Michelle, without missing a beat, took a sip of coffee and casually remarked, "That’s how Brooks sounds when he’s coming. It’s awful."

Logan snorted so hard coffee went all over his face.

I groaned, hanging my head in defeat. Only she would say something like that without blinking.

"Anyway, I learned my lesson. Good morning to you both," I muttered.

Michelle flashed a fake, overly cheery smile. "You too!"

She hopped up onto the counter, her bare legs swinging, her hands wrapped around the coffee mug like she belonged here.

And fuck, she did.

I grabbed my own mug, moving between her legs, tilting my head toward her as I traced my fingers down her calf. She caught my chin gently, pulling my gaze back to hers.

Her expression had changed—softer, hesitant, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should.

I could feel the weight of it, whatever it was.

She took a breath, then exhaled slowly, a small smirk teasing at her lips. “Thank you.”

I arched a brow. "For the sex or the shirt?"

"Dude, I’m right here," Logan groaned, slamming his plate down on the counter.

"Then leave."

Michelle giggled, setting her mug aside before wrapping her arms around my shoulders. "Thank you for last night. This is scary for me, but I’m learning it’s worth being a little scared."

My chest tightened at her words, and before she could retreat from them, I pulled her in for a deeper kiss, one that said I know it’s scary. I’m not going anywhere.

"It’s all part of being with someone," I murmured, lifting her off the counter and carrying her to the table.

Her smile was so damn radiant, I felt it in my chest. I got her mug for her and joined her, watching as she traced the rim of the cup with her finger, scrunching her nose slightly in thought.

"What’s your schedule for today?" I asked, genuinely curious about how much time I’d get with her.

"Studying for at least four hours, completing two assignments, then rewarding myself with something fun."

I smirked. "Define fun."

"Not telling you."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "When do you need to start?"

"Within the hour. Why? What did you have in mind?"

"Let me cook for you, and we can talk outside."

She eyed me suspiciously but nodded, watching as I moved into the kitchen. I started preparing a real breakfast—eggs, toast, hash browns, bacon—the works.

Logan, finally deciding to leave, muttered something about work and took his coffee with him, but not before throwing me one last smug look.

The second the door closed behind him, I glanced at Michelle.

She was watching me carefully, her lips slightly parted, her fingers still resting on the rim of her coffee mug. Something unspoken passed between us.

I let her sit with it, let her process whatever she was feeling, before I finally said, "So, I want to tell you more about my mom."

Her fingers stilled.

Michelle swallowed, then met my gaze, her voice softer now, laced with something careful, knowing. “Brooks, I’m ready to listen, but please don’t do this out of guilt.”

I shook my head, squeezing her hand gently, grounding myself in the warmth of her palm against mine. “I’m not. We’re really trying this.” The words settled between us, a quiet confession, a reminder. “You and me. If we’re going for it, you should know.”

Her fingers tightened around mine, her brows pulling together like she was bracing herself for whatever came next. “Okay,” she said. “I’m ready to listen.”

I exhaled, running my free hand down my face before finally letting the words out. “She’s getting worse.” My voice was rough, heavier than I expected, and I cleared my throat, forcing myself to keep going. “Even since you saw her… she’s had two episodes where she tried calling the cops, thought our dad was still alive.”

Michelle’s expression didn’t change much—just a slight twitch of her jaw, a subtle tightening of her lips, but her grip on my hand never faltered.

“She lives in a facility in town because it’s safer for her,” I continued. “They have nurses on call twenty-four-seven, they know how to handle her when she forgets where she is. It’s the best place for her.” I swallowed hard, my chest tightening with the weight of the truth I could barely admit to myself. “But it’s still… so fucking hard. She forgets Logan and me sometimes.”

Michelle inhaled sharply, her throat working around words she didn’t say. Instead, she just nodded, her thumb brushing over the back of my hand in slow, careful strokes.

“That cannot be easy.” Her voice was gentle, understanding in a way that didn’t feel like pity.

“It sucks.” I let out a bitter laugh, shaking my head. “And it kills me not knowing if I’m doing the right thing.”

Her eyes darkened, something flickering in them that looked like recognition.

“I am so sorry your family has to deal with this,” she said quietly. Her lashes fluttered as she shut her eyes for a moment, but when she opened them again, there wasn’t an ounce of pity in them—just something steady, something real.

I let out a slow breath, but it still felt like there was a damn brick sitting on my chest.

“The day after the wedding was the worst,” I admitted. “She was calling our dad’s old job, convinced he was alive. She freaked out at the nurse when they tried to tell her the truth, started screaming for him like she was still in the past. I just…” I shook my head, rubbing my palm over my face. “I put my head in my hands like this.” I demonstrated, resting my elbows on the counter, feeling the weight of it all over again.

Michelle reached out, her fingers warm as she traced them lightly over my forearm, keeping her touch gentle, but firm. “She’s lucky you and Logan are such good sons.”

I let out a humorless chuckle, lifting my head. “Wait, what?”

“You dropped everything and went to help her that day,” she said simply, like it was obvious. “You have a picture of her in your kitchen. You talk about her like she’s still the same person she was before the disease, and you wouldn’t do that if you didn’t love her that much.”

I blinked at her, my throat feeling unbearably tight.

Michelle’s fingers stayed against my arm, grounding me, keeping me present. “I wouldn’t wish that disease on my worst enemy,” she murmured.

I exhaled, shoving a hand through my hair, my chest aching from the truth of it. “It’s soul-crushing.”

Her lips parted, hesitation flashing in her eyes, like she wanted to say something but wasn’t sure if she should. Then, after a beat, she asked, "How can I help you?"

I froze, not expecting that.

She pressed on before I could answer. “I can’t bake, but I could buy cookies or something for you to bring when you visit? Or when you travel during the season… does she need visitors so she doesn’t get lonely? I could pretend to be a volunteer?”

Jesus.

I swallowed against the tightness in my throat, blinking down at her as my chest throbbed with something too big to name.

Without thinking, I yanked her into a hug.

Her arms immediately wrapped around me, her grip tight, secure, her body solid against mine.

I almost told her I loved her.

Because fuck, I did.

That solidified it.

She had taken the last piece of my heart, and I gave it to her willingly, freely, without hesitation.

My mom would have laughed at the irony of me falling in love with a woman who was a total flight risk, but she always said nothing in life that had value was easy.

And Michelle was so far from easy.

I smiled into her hair, holding onto her for a second longer, wanting to keep this moment, to keep her, to keep everything we were building. But I wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to stay.

So instead of voicing any of that, I pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then another to her lips. She seemed to understand everything I wasn’t saying, because she smiled, leaving her hand on my arm as we finished breakfast in silence.

I stood to take our plates, but she reached out, stopping me.

“I’ll clean up,” she said. “It’s the least I can do.”

“You’re a guest here, Mitch.”

She let out a small laugh, but her voice was a little strained. “Well, I need to do something with my hands because I just want to cling to you and tell you it’ll be all right, but life doesn’t work that way. So let me clean.”

I let her.

I watched, leaning against the counter, as she rinsed the dishes, pre-washing everything before putting them in the dishwasher. I didn’t get it. Why do the work twice?

“I never talk to anyone about my mom,” I admitted, watching the way she stayed focused on the sink, like she was absorbing every word.

She nodded, finishing the last plate and drying her hands on a towel before turning back to me. “Well, you can tell me as much or as little as you want. You can guarantee I won’t tell a soul about your personal business.”

“I know you won’t.”

The words came easily, because they were true.

She placed her hands on her hips, her hair still messy from sleep, her cheeks a little flushed, and I had to touch her.

Cupping her face in my hands, I gently tilted her chin up, forcing her to look at me.

The kitchen felt smaller, quieter, like the world had narrowed down to just us.

I kissed her, slow and steady, not to provoke or entice but to ground us both in the moment.

She smiled against my lips, and for a fleeting second, I wanted to be selfish, to ask her to stay with me all day, but I couldn’t.

Pulling back, I pressed my forehead to hers. “Go study.”

“What?”

I smirked, nudging her toward the table. “I can tell you’re trying to think of something to make me feel better, but you being here is enough. Go study. Kick ass. I’ll head to the gym for an hour, but that’s all I’ve got planned.”

Her eyes softened, but she didn’t argue. “Are you sure?”

“More than sure.”

As she sat down, I handed her a speaker, smirking. “Here. Connect your phone and play whatever weird music you want.”

She grinned, already reaching for a highlighter. “Thank you.”

I watched her for a moment longer, then laughed as she pointed toward the door.

“Go work out and get more muscles.”

That had me laughing, and I went to change. It was a pleasant feeling knowing she’d be there when I got back.