Chapter 17
CADE
I’d been trying to make the right call by slowing things down with Brooke.
But now I was the one suffering emotional whiplash.
Eight hours ago this woman had been straddling me, panting out my name in breathy moans.
I had wanted to grip her sexy thighs and pull her onto me fully.
Slide beneath those yoga pants and feel her skin.
It took everything in me not to lose control and spill into my pants like some hormonal teenager.
I had stopped us before I was afraid I couldn’t.
But at the time, she had seemed kind of .
. . disappointed? Like she wanted more? Now, she was climbing into the car, seemingly unaffected, ready to return to Boston? It was all so confusing.
I questioned my course of action. Should I have let things progress further last night?
The last thing I wanted was to be Brooke’s rebound.
She was obviously incredibly broken up about her relationship with Brock ending, a situation I was still basically in the dark about.
I knew they were engaged, but—I was still shocked at the depth of her despair over their breakup.
I couldn’t quite figure it out. It was like trying to finish a puzzle while missing a piece.
And, my practical brain reminded me, we both had jobs and lives, in cities thousands of miles apart.
It wasn’t exactly the recipe for the start of a solid relationship.
I could be her friend. That was what she needed right now, not a fling that would mess up her emotional state even more.
I tried to stay confident in my plan of action.
I knew—was pretty certain, anyway—that I’d done the right thing.
Still, the ride back was almost painfully quiet.
As I drove, I caught myself daydreaming about touching Brooke on my parents’ couch. How many times had I imagined us in just that scenario? It had been like fulfilling a teenage fantasy.
She’d caught me staring at her lips in the faint blue light of the TV screen.
They were full and kissable, a deep shade of rosy pink.
They reminded me of the innermost part of a peach, the dark bit by the pit—though maybe my brain was still clouded by the scent of that damn peach shampoo.
That scent did questionable things to my sanity.
When she’d leaned in, I’d had a moment of panic, almost stopping us before we could start.
Just one taste, I’d told myself.
I should’ve known one taste would never be enough of Brooke.
I kept expecting her to pull back, to say it had been a mistake.
But instead her hands found the muscles under my shirt, touching me like she craved me, and fuck that was such a turn on.
I don’t think any of my random hookups had given my skin such adoration, and even if they had, this was Brooke.
This was the girl I’d be dreaming about for more years than I’d admit.
Having her touching me was an entirely different sensation.
Every little touch sent fire coursing through my veins.
I’d almost lost my grip on reality completely when she’d panted out my name, breathy and desperate. There had to be some kind of self-control award I had qualified for for not taking her right then and there on the couch.
When she’d leaned back and given me access to her neck, I’d wished the lights had been on so I could watch as I traced my tongue across the birthmark I knew was in that particular hidden spot behind her ear.
Is it weird to be obsessed with the slope of someone’s neck?
Suddenly, in the car, I realized I needed to adjust myself—subtly, I hoped—beneath the steering wheel.
I did my best to focus on the drive, forcing my thoughts away from yoga pants-clad thighs and soft, peach scented hair.
We finally made it back to Boston and I handed her and Maple off at her front step to Whit, who eyed me curiously, her hand roaming absentmindedly across her slight belly.
“I’ve got a flight to catch—” I began, moving back towards the car.
“Wait.” Brooke held out her hand. “Give me your phone.” She added what I hoped was her cell phone number—significantly more personal than trying to call a landline and hoping in vain she would answer.
She met my eyes. “Text me when you get home safe?”
My insides flared with new hope. She wanted to stay in touch. This was good.
“I will.” I stepped in and kissed her forehead. “Take care, B. Call me if you need anything.”
I got in the rental car and drove to the airport, feeling like I was leaving my life behind me in Boston.
The hours of the flight ticked by slowly. When I got back to my complex, I picked up Echo from Val. I ruffled his fur, excited to see him after being away for so long. He sniffed my clothes diligently, no doubt smelling another dog’s scent on me.
“I know bud, I kinda cheated on you,” I said, leaning down to him. “I promise it was for a good cause.”
“Are you hungry?” I asked him as we entered my apartment.
Duh, his look seemed to say.
Once I settled back in, and had Echo fed and loved on, I sent Brooke a text featuring a pic of Echo and me:
CADE
Made it home.
She sent back a heart.
In the following weeks, Brooke and I texted sporadically. I wouldn’t admit out loud just how much real estate she took up in my brain these days.
One day out to brunch I sent her a pic of my English muffin. “Note the jam. Grape for life,” I captioned. She sent me a pic of the Boston skyline, her favorite park, a sunset. We’d occasionally share memes or make callbacks to our old inside jokes. Getting her texts was the best part of my day.
I heard my phone buzz one Saturday morning, and I opened our text thread:
brOOKE
Guess what??
CADE
***
brOOKE
I’m switching units at the hospital.
CADE
Cool! Where ya headed?
brOOKE
NICU
CADE
Sounds perfect for you. Congrats, B
The messages lacked the emotional depth I felt in our letters, but at least now we had a somewhat-steady stream of contact.
It was something, and I knew I’d hold on to anything when it came to this girl.
My mind often drifted back to our day at the Christmas tree farm, the light snow falling angelically around Brooke as she hopped excitedly around, looking for the perfect tree.
The flakes of snow caught in her brown hair and on her cute fluffy hat.
In her coat she was a bright spot of red against the white and pine green backdrop—an image so perfectly Brooke.
This girl really had no idea how brightly she shone.
One week before Christmas, I carefully wrapped a beautiful package and slipped it into a mailing box, trying my best to time a Christmas arrival. On December 23rd, she sent me a text with a picture of the box.
brOOKE
For me??
CADE
Open it
Inside the intricate wrapping I knew she’d found a huge pack of Comfeet brand ankle socks.
She sent me a picture of them on her feet.
brOOKE
I love it, Cade.
You always put my Comfeet first
I smiled a cheesy grin at my phone.
CADE
Merry Christmas, B
brOOKE
Merry Christmas