Page 36 of Three Pucking Ex's Brothers

I look up at him as we come to a stop sign, noting his gaze is sad. He looks like he wants to say something, but is unsure.

“What?” I ask.

His hands tighten on the steering wheel as his gaze drifts to my mouth, then to my eyes once more.

I can tell that whatever it is he wants to say, it’s something he isn’t sure about. Maybe he’s even a little worried, but I also know Tommy has a tendency to overthink things like I do.

“If there’s something you want to say, Tommy, you can say it.” I implore him with my gaze. “You know you can be honest with me, right?”

I’ve always tried to talk to him, at events and when I see him around town, if only because I know what it’s like to be in your head all the time. Though I know my introversion differs a bit because I’m not on the spectrum like he is, but still…I’ve always felt a sort of camaraderie, a connection of sorts with Tommy because we’re both similar in that regard.

And I also know how rewarding and fulfilling it can be to have someone you can talk to. I know he has his friends—Zack and Chloe—and his brothers, but I have always tried to be an open place for him too.

Even if he doesn’t accept it. After all, I’d had plans to be a part of this family, and so I’d tried to form connections them. Get to know them better, especially when Brett was out of town.

“I don’t think you need me to talk,” he says carefully before picking up the gas again. “I mean…”

It’s the tone of his voice. The way his eyebrows furrow and his bright green eyes glisten in the sunlight. The way his blond hair catches the light like an angelic halo. It’s the faint definition in his biceps as he grips the steering wheel.

“I don’t want to talk about things that don’t matter. I want…” He licks his lips, struggling with his words, but the endearment can be felt, like a being all on its own. “I want tolisten.” He lets out a breath.

“You want to listen? To me?”

He nods. “Yeah. Is that bad or?—”

I shake my head, licking my lips as my heart lifts. “No, Tommy. It’s not bad, it’s just?—”

He turns to look at me once more. “You can be honest with me,” he says. “But I understand if you don’t want to talk, I just…” He runs a hand through his hair, and I see the faint shake of his hand like he’s nervous.

“Are you okay, Tommy?”

He looks at me with furrowed eyebrows, and I think he’s going to say no. Skim over whatever it is that’s actually bothering him.

“I don’t know,” he says honestly. “Sometimes I don’t know how to process what I feel. You know? It…takes some time.”

I nod as I lean closer to him, settling my hand on his leg and giving him an assuring squeeze. “I do know.”

His gaze drops to my hand and he lets out a heavy breath. “I’ve um…never exactly been in a relationship, so I don’t really have any basis for comparison,” he says carefully.

I blink as his words settle on me. I knew he’d been single a while, but I never considered that he hadneverbeen in a relationship, period.

It’s surprising.

Not because of him being autistic, but because Tommy’s such a sweet boy. He’s smart—graduated with honors, and his attention to detail is unmatched. I’ve seen the things he builds with his Legos, completely out of nothing but his own imagination.

Not to mention, he’s got those patented Sterling good looks, much like his brothers. Though where Rush has that golden retriever energy and look, and Freddie’s got the bold, intense, smoldering thing down pat, Tommy’s got that baby face and softness that is somehow the perfect blend of masculine form and feminine beauty.

Even now, I can see the thick veins in his biceps, the tone and definition in his broad shoulders. But I can also see the smooth shine in his hair, his long, thick eyelashes that are so dark and frame his green eyes perfectly.

How on earth has heneverhad a girlfriend before? I would have thought the girls would be lining up in droves for a sweetheart like Tommy Sterling.

“But…” He lets out a sigh as the car slows, turning down my street. “I know what rejection feels like.” He says the words softly. “It sucks.” His eyebrows furrow and he frowns.

“Yeah, it does,” I say, feeling strangely vulnerable.

“Especially if you love the person.” His voice is softer now as he looks back at me. “Did…” He swallows hard. “Did you love him? Brett, I mean?”

It’s the way he asks. Curious. Intrigued. Like my heart and its desires are some unsolved mystery to him.