Chapter 1 #2
“Sure,” I said. “Thank you.”
He moved to the stool next to mine, and I caught his scent.
Soap and something woodsy, masculine without being overwhelming.
Up close, he was even more attractive. Strong features, a jaw that could cut glass.
But it was his eyes that held me. Dark and intense and seeing me in a way that made me feel exposed and safe at once.
The bartender brought fresh drinks, and we sat in comfortable silence for a moment.
“I’m Leigh,” I offered finally.
“Dex.” He held out his hand, and when I took it, electricity shot up my arm. His hand was large and calloused, warm and solid. Neither of us let go immediately.
When we did, the air between us felt charged.
“So what brings you to Dylan’s on a Friday night?” he asked. “You don’t look like a local.”
“That obvious?”
“Small town. I’d remember seeing you before.”
The way he said it, low and certain, sent heat through me. “I just got here today. Visiting.”
“Family?”
My throat tightened. “Something like that. I’m currently escaping the suffocating pressure of parental concern.”
He smiled slightly. “Ah. One of those visits.”
“You have no idea.” I took another sip. “Tomorrow’s going to be intense. Meeting people. Expectations. The whole thing feels like walking into a situation where everyone else knows the script except me.”
“That sounds exhausting.”
“It is.” I turned my glass. “And the worst part is everyone’s treating me like I’m fragile. Like I might shatter if they say the wrong thing. I’m not fragile. I’m just...” I trailed off, not sure how to finish.
“Overwhelmed?” he offered quietly.
“Yeah. Overwhelmed.” I looked at him. “Is that pathetic? That I’m sitting in a bar hiding from people who are trying to be nice to me?”
“Not even a little.” His voice was soft. “Sometimes you just need a minute where no one’s watching you. Where you can just... be.”
“Exactly.” The relief of being understood hit me hard. “Just be. Not perform or prove anything or fit into anyone’s expectations.”
“I get that,” he said. “More than you know.”
Something in his tone made me study him more closely. “Rough year, you said?”
“Yeah.” He looked down at his glass. “I’ve been feeling like... like I don’t know where I fit anymore. Like I’m watching everyone else’s life move forward while mine just... stalled.”
“Do you feel invisible?” The words came out before I could stop them. “Like you’re there but not really there?”
His eyes snapped to mine, sharp and intense. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“Me too,” I whispered. “My whole life, I’ve felt like I’m on the outside looking in. And tomorrow I’m supposed to walk into this situation and just... belong. Like it’s that easy.”
“It’s never that easy.”
“No, it’s not.” I smiled sadly. “But everyone acts like it should be. Like I should just slot into place and be grateful for the opportunity.”
“Are you? Grateful?”
I considered that. “I don’t know. Maybe. But I’m also terrified. And resentful. And guilty for being resentful. It’s a mess.”
“Feelings usually are.”
“You sound like you speak from experience.”
He laughed, but there was no humor in it. “I spent a lot of time being what other people needed. Supporting them, making sure they were okay. And I don’t regret it. But somewhere along the way, I forgot to figure out what I needed. Who I am when I’m not being useful to someone else.”
“That sounds lonely.” I touched his arm without thinking, feeling the warmth of him through his sleeve.
“It is.” He looked at me then, really looked. “But tonight, right now, I don’t feel lonely.”
My breath caught. “Neither do I.”
His eyes dropped to where my hand rested on his arm, then back to my face. The air between us shifted, thickening with something beyond understanding. Something hungry and electric.
“Want to move to a booth?” His voice was rougher now. “More private.”
I should say no. Should go back.
But I didn’t want to think about tomorrow. About meeting my brothers. About fitting into a family that didn’t know me.
I wanted to stay here, in this bubble where I was just Leigh and he was just Dex and nothing else mattered.
“Yeah,” I said. “Okay.”
We moved to a corner booth, sliding into the same side without discussing it, close enough that our thighs touched. The contact sent sparks through me, and from the way his breath caught, he felt it too.
The conversation flowed easily after that.
About feeling like an outsider, about watching other people build lives while you stood still, about the fear that you’d never find your place.
He didn’t ask for details and I didn’t offer them, both of us keeping to the emotional truth without the specifics.
But the connection was real. Bone-deep. Like we’d known each other forever instead of an hour.
And underneath it all, the attraction built. His hand on my knee under the table, casual but deliberate. My fingers toying with the collar of his shirt. The way we leaned closer with each passing minute, the space between us shrinking until I could feel his breath on my face.
Time passed without me noticing. The bar grew quieter as people filtered out, but we stayed, wrapped in our own world.
“I needed this,” I said finally, my voice soft. “Tonight. This conversation. I’ve been dreading tomorrow for weeks, and I just needed... this.”
“I’m glad I could help.” His hand moved to my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone. “You’re going to be fine tomorrow. There’s no place in this world where you wouldn’t belong.”
The certainty in his voice, the way he looked at me like he could see past my defenses to the scared girl underneath, made my throat tight.
“You don’t even know me,” I whispered.
“I know enough.”
The moment stretched between us, heavy with possibility. Then he leaned in, and I met him halfway.
The kiss started soft. Tentative, testing. But it ignited something in both of us, and suddenly we were kissing like we’d been starving for it. His hands in my hair, my fingers fisted in his shirt, both of us trying to get closer despite the awkward angle of the booth.
When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.
“We should get out of here,” he said, his voice rough and low.
“Yeah.” My heart pounded. “Yeah, we should.”
We left money on the table and walked out into the night, his hand at the small of my back. The cool air did nothing to clear my head or cool the heat between us. It was like I could feel the anticipation of the moment vibrating against my skin.
The parking lot was mostly empty now, pools of light from streetlamps making everything feel surreal.
We made it three steps before we were kissing again, his back against the brick wall of the building, my hands everywhere. He tasted like whiskey and want, and I couldn’t get enough.
“God,” he breathed against my mouth, his hands sliding under my jacket. “You feel so good.”
“So do you.” I kissed along his jaw, feeling the scrape of stubble, and he groaned.
His hands were in my hair now, tilting my head back so he could kiss my neck, and I melted against him. This was exactly what I needed. To feel wanted, desired, seen. To forget about tomorrow and just exist in this moment.
This moment was safe. With him. This person I barely knew, but held me like I was the most precious thing he’d ever found. Not because I was fragile. But because he couldn’t bear to let me go.
We kissed until we were both trembling, until my lips were swollen and his hair was a mess from my fingers.
When we broke apart, both breathless, he pressed his forehead to mine.
“Come home with me,” he said quietly. “Please.”
I wanted to. God, I wanted to. Wanted to lose myself in him, in this connection, in feeling something other than anxious and inadequate.
“Yes,” I whispered.
Relief and desire flashed across his face. But then he pulled back slightly, his thumb brushing my kiss-swollen lips.
“We’ve both been drinking,” he said, his voice strained. “I want you. But I want you to be sure.”
The fact that he was checking, that he cared about my clarity even now, made me want him more.
“I’m sure,” I said. “I needed this tonight. God, I needed this.”
Today had been so intense. Arriving at Jasper’s house, seeing where my brothers grew up, feeling the weight of what tomorrow would bring. Meeting them for the first time, trying to fit into their lives, wondering if they’d actually want me there.
“Tomorrow’s going to be so much worse,” I said, laughing breathlessly against his mouth. “I need a moment that’s just mine. Where I don’t have to be the missing sister, the hidden shame.”
“Tomorrow?” His lips moved to my neck.
“Meeting my brothers. Half-brothers.” I kissed him again, trying to lose myself in the sensation. “First time.”
“Mm-hmm.” His attention was on the spot where my neck met my shoulder, sending shivers through me.
The words kept coming, nervous energy and alcohol loosening my tongue. “I just found out about them a few months ago. Whole thing is crazy. My mom had this affair, the guy didn’t know I existed, and now I’m here to meet them and I’m terrified.”
I felt him go still against me, but I was too caught up to stop.
“The Farringtons,” I said, pulling back to look at his face, smiling even though my stomach was churning with nerves about tomorrow. “Do you know them? Oh god, small town, you probably do, don’t you? Everyone probably knows everyone here.”
The look on his face stopped me mid-sentence.
He’d gone completely white. Frozen. Like I’d struck him.
“What?” My voice came out small. “What’s wrong?”
He stepped back, putting distance between us, and ran his hand through his hair. His whole body had changed. Tense, closed off, panicked.
“What did you say?” His voice was hollow, nothing like the warm roughness from moments ago.
“My brothers?” Confusion and hurt started to twist in my chest. “The Farringtons? Do you know them?”
“Fuck.” He took another step back. “FUCK.”
“Dex, what’s wrong?” I reached for him, but he flinched away. “What…”