Page 45

My mouth is suddenly watering, my hands shaking slightly as I grip the rungs. I climb up one step, then another, and pause, my face just above his with his feet planted firmly on the floor.

Man, his lashes are really long.

“I was kidding by the way,” I rush out.

“Now that’s a shame,” he rasps, holding my gaze. But then he blinks, and his playful self appears as if summoned. “Now get your ass up there.” He smacks my butt.

I laugh and hurry up.

Brady joins me only seconds later, and together we slip through the little door my dad built into the roof of the barn, climbing out onto the small platform he put out here for me and Ari when we were kids.

The boys have been up here dozens of times too, this property being the one we would use for big events and things like my parents twentieth anniversary party.

We’ll likely have a graduation party here next year, and this time, we’ll get to hang around inside the house too, since my parents will be back living in it by then .

I sigh, pulling the hoodie under my ass and lowering to the platform, letting my legs hang over the edge. Brady does the same, and for several minutes, we just sit there in comfortable silence, enjoying the view and the noises coming from the creek that we have the most perfect view of.

It runs about thirty feet wide and a good twenty miles long, stretching across several property lines, but as far as I know, we’re the only ones with a little bridge that allows you to cross it without getting wet.

It’s only accessible for the next couple months though, until the snow comes and goes and the creek overflows for a while.

“I forgot how peaceful it is out here.”

“I didn’t,” I say quietly, not wanting to disrupt the birds overhead. They should be migrating soon. “My parents are moving back in after some renovations. They’re going to sell the other.”

His brows jump. “They’ve already decided?”

I nod. “Yeah. They told me in September when they came for the family barbecue.”

“You sad about that?”

“Not really.” I rethink my answer. “I mean I was, but then I stopped and thought about it, and it makes sense. That place was so special because of all of us , you know?” I tip my head, looking his way.

“But we’re not kids anymore. We’re grown now and, in a few years, probably sooner for some of us”—I give him a pointed look and ignore his blank blink—“we’ll be starting our own adventures, and for the first time, we won’t be two houses down or a couple dorms over.

We could be in different states. Hell, countries even. ”

“That sounds terrible,” he mumbles, making me laugh suddenly.

“Hey, we’ll still have the beach house, though, right?

” I say, thinking of the insane gift our blue-collar parents gave us all for high school graduation.

“That’s why our parents put it in all our names, so we’d all have a place to go to be with each other if life leads us different places like it’s bound to do. ”

“Stop saying that.”

I laugh again and Brady gives a half smile.

I pull in a long breath. “So yeah, I think it makes sense for my parents to sell. I mean why would they want to wake up to a view of Chase’s house across the street when they can wake up to this every day.”

Brady sits back on his hands, bumping his shoulder into mine. “Why do I sense a but in there?”

My lips turn up. “Maybe because you know me too well.”

“No such thing, Cammie Baby.”

I smile to myself and look out over the creek. “I guess I’m a little bummed because I kind of thought I’d be the one who ended up here one day, not them.”

“Really?” The surprise in his voice has me meeting his gaze. “Have you told them that?”

My eyes move between his, and something soft swims through me. “I haven’t told anyone that.”

Brady studies me a long moment, then wraps his arms around my middle and tugs me closer. “Can I ask you something?”

“Duh.”

He chuckles, then goes quiet for a couple minutes, making me wonder if he’s changed his mind. Just when I’m about to fill the silence with some nonsense, he speaks.

“On the phone to your mom yesterday, you said ten years, if ever when she teased you about kids. Do you not want to be a mom?”

His question seems so random that I have to pull back a little so I can see him.

“I don’t mean to pry,” he rushes, a very un-Brady-like thing to say. “I know a lot of people choose not to have kids, and that’s perfectly fine. Best to know what you want than have a child and not want or be able to care for it. Not that you would do that either, but I’m just saying. ”

“I know, relax,” I say, enjoying this little frazzled side of him a bit more than I should, considering the conversation. “It’s fine, really.”

“So…” He waits.

“First, surprised you caught that. I was only teasing because she was teasing, and I know that’s a fear of hers seeing as I’m the only child, not that she would ever pressure me for real either way.”

He nods. “And with you wanting to be a teacher or have a day care or whatever, I’d understand how those students would all be yours in a way, and one of your own might be hard.”

A strong sense of admiration settles over me at his words, bringing with it a hint of vulnerability, but not in a negative way.

It’s just a little strange, if not exciting, that he seems to see a part of myself I’ve never really shared—at least not in so many words.

“I don’t not want kids. Maybe just one, but… ”

“What?” he pushes, almost an eagerness to his tone that has me gazing at him curiously.

“This is another one of those things I’ve never said out loud.”

“Tell me,” he whispers.

“It’s just there are so many kids out there who don’t have homes, you know?” His eyes snap between mine, hanging on every word. A sudden sense of uncertainty circles around my shoulders and I give a stiff shrug. “And I mean, I don’t really know how my body would do with a pregnancy.”

He frowns. “Because your mom had a hard time?”

A sad chuckle leaves me. “That’s just another potential roadblock.

” He waits for more, and I decide to just lay it out there because this is Brady.

If my worries are safe with anyone, it’s with him.

“So…TMI maybe, but I’ve never had a regular cycle, if you know what I mean, and that one little fact, mixed with my mom’s troubles and having to work really hard to keep weight on as it is, so I’m sickly and weak…

just feels like a lot of stress. And from what I hear, stress is also a factor making getting pregnant even hard er, so it’s mission impossible as far as I’m convinced, no matter how you look at it.

“And yeah, you’re right. I think all that played a part in my going the teacher route of life. You know, the desire to be a second home for hundreds of kids over my lifetime in case I can’t have one of my own.” I chance a glance his way, and he’s still right there, hanging on my every word.

“Senior year I was transferred from my pediatric doctor to an adult endocrinologist, and in that very first visit, he told me, unsolicited I might add, that even if I could get pregnant with a nearly nonexistent ovulation, my body doesn’t offer much room to grow a tiny human.

He said my hips aren’t ‘birthing hips.’”

“Fuck him.” Brady glares.

I chuckle. “That’s exactly what my dad said after the guy dropped me as his patient later that afternoon.” I smile wide. “My dad threatened to kick his ass before we walked out so…fair.”

I sigh and shrug a shoulder. “Anyway, I hadn’t thought about it too much until after everything that happened to Ari. It’s not like I’m ready to be a mom anytime soon anyway, but I don’t know. I think it might be dangerous for me, and that just reconfirms what I’ve thought over the years.”

“That you would want to adopt a child who doesn’t have a mother to love him?”

My lips curve to one side, and I peek over at him. “Or her.”

A throaty chuckle escapes him, and he nods, getting lost in his own thoughts for a while.

A bit later, I start to move, but Brady grabs me.

“Wait,” he whispers, tugging me back to him.

I’m between his legs, my chest to his, temple resting against his chin. His arms come around me and he rubs his cheek along mine softly, maybe even subconsciously, as his thumb traces along mine over and over.

In front of us, the sun starts to disappear behind the mountain and I get lost in the sight .

I could sit here all day, but the sun is gone now, and our conversation took a heavy turn that, for some reason, seems to have weighed on him more than I’d expect.

We need a distraction, so I push to my feet. “Come on, Big Guy.”

“Where we goin’?”

“To pretend we’re still in high school and not over here worrying about adult stuff.”

He doesn’t ask questions; he just follows, and the second our feet hit the floor of the barn, he takes my hand in his.

It’s warm and rough against my own, swallowing my fingers until even that small touch feels like a mountain of armor that nothing could break through.

My steps slow as I consider that thought a little deeper, wondering why it arose in the first place, but it’s there nonetheless.

Nothing —or no one?