Chapter 18
ROMAN
Why the fuck is Brielle Hayes in my house?
That’s the question I’ve been asking myself since I parked out front beside a piece-of-shit sedan I didn’t recognize.
Naturally, I took a look through the window to see if I could gather any hints as to who it belonged to.
Evie isn’t a kid anymore, but that doesn’t mean I’m alright with her having guys over when I’m not home.
Not when I don’t know their name or contact info . . . or their parents.
I was instantly relieved when I saw the furry pink covers on the seat belts and sparkling fuchsia floor mats.
Then just as quickly, all I felt was dread.
Not because I didn’t want to see the owner of the familiar heels thrown in the back seat and jersey with Rourke on the back that’s been left on one of the mats.
It was because I was suddenly full of more energy than I should have had after such a long series of away games and a loud plane ride that resulted in a pulsing headache.
The excitement that plowed right through me like it belonged there was a curse.
A reminder that I can’t have what I’m beginning to desperately crave.
I’m not used to feeling so many different emotions all at once.
The last time I was overcome like this was before I lost my sister.
It was only after I realized she was really gone and never coming back that I started seeing the world in shades of black and grey instead of the vibrant colours my sister used to carry with her everywhere.
She was a talented artist with a successful career ahead of her, and now, art is the last thing I want to be around.
It’s been five years, and I still don’t feel like I’ve grieved her enough. I don’t even know the proper way to grieve, if there is one.
Cranking the hot water, I wash my hands in the kitchen sink a third time. My fingers are raw as I scrub them and try to ignore the conversation my niece is having with Brielle only a few feet away.
After hiding away in my room while they ate their sushi under the guise of cleaning myself up, I waited until they were finished before venturing out again. I know now that I should have just spent the entire night locked away somewhere away from Brielle instead of giving in to my desires.
“I guess I didn’t know how tired I actually was today. Is it okay if I bail on the movie?” Evie asks.
I freeze with my hands in the scalding water, pulling in a sharp breath.
“Are you sure? I wouldn’t mind if you just crashed on the couch,” Brielle says lightly.
I look out toward them at the same moment Evie argues, “And wake up with a kink in my neck? No, thanks. I think I’ve just been pulling too many late nights. My uncle’s always up late if you still want to stay and watch the movie. He’ll join you.”
She pulls Brielle into a hug and finds my gaze over her shoulder, cutting off any chance of the little minx arguing. The wiggling of her eyebrows as she uses a finger to subtly point at the TV has my defenses rising. There’s already some horror film loaded up.
Fuck.
“Right, Uncle? You’re not heading to bed anytime soon, are you?” Evie asks, grinning when she releases Brielle.
Brielle faces me while tugging the shoulder of her cardigan up from where it had slipped. “I don’t know, it’s pretty late already. I’m sure he needs at least twelve hours.”
She’s goading me again, and fuck my life, but I can’t get enough of her attitude.
I want to bottle it up and keep it for a rainy day.
It’s why I allowed us to get so lost in the moment earlier.
With her needy moans in my ear and her body so goddamn pliant and inviting, each provoking word settled like lava in my gut.
I can still feel the heavy weight of her tit in my hand.
My throat is dry when I slowly turn off the water. “I was planning on watching a game tonight.”
“Really? The team doesn’t play tomorrow. Do it then,” Evie argues.
I can feel Brielle’s eyes pricking into me while I look at my niece and wipe my hands on a dishtowel. Her frown is far more dramatic than it needs to be. It still makes me feel really damn guilty.
“It’s okay, Evie. I can head home. The last thing I want is to overstay my welcome,” Brielle starts, immediately bending at the waist to snag the black album from the coffee table. “Thank you again for these. They’re incredible.”
Evie’s glare turns furious as she grips her waist and makes sure I know I’m the one responsible for this. It’s rare for her to get mad at me rather than annoyed or frustrated. That’s the only reason I change my mind.
It has nothing to do with the barely noticeable softening of Brielle’s voice when she spoke or the pink hue to her cheeks that I doubt is there for the reasons it usually is.
“What movie is it?”
“Chucky,” Evie snips.
I swallow the frustrated groan that tries to escape and nod. “Alright.”
Brielle’s head slowly lifts, and her eyes flick to mine, staying there. I make no effort to look away. While I might not be ready for this, I’m not about to hurt her feelings. I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.
“Great! I’ll text you tomorrow, Elle?” Evie says, already retreating to the hall.
“Yeah, that works.”
She leaves the room with a wave and a sung good night before disappearing. The moment she’s gone, leaving Brielle and me alone, I contemplate backtracking. That train of thought only lasts for a second. My stomach sours too quickly to encourage it for longer than that.
“If this is too weird for you, I can go. We don’t have to tell Evie that we didn’t watch this together.”
I scowl. Her lips twitch. “Just sit down, Brielle.”
When she does as I’ve said, I give her my back and head into the pantry.
There’s not much for movie snacks in here, so I snag the only bag of popcorn I’ve got.
In the fridge, there are a few bottles of water and a lone jug of pink lemonade.
I stare blankly at my limited options before taking the lemonade and pouring it into two glasses.
When I join her in the living room, she’s sitting on the couch. Her head swivels my way when she hears me enter. Eyes dropping to the popcorn bag tucked beneath my arm and then the drinks in my hand, she smiles.
“You could have asked for some help bringing everything over,” she says.
“I didn’t need help.”
She reaches toward me and takes the lemonade. “Of course not.”
“Why Chucky?” I grumble, sitting on the cushion next to her before I can talk myself into moving further away.
“Why buffalo popcorn?”
I draw my brows together. “What?”
“That’s my favourite kind, and last time I checked, it was pretty niche.”
“Are you asking if I bought this specifically for you?”
Her shoulder lifts smoothly. “Maybe.”
“No, I did not.” I gently place my glass on the coffee table. “You’ve never mentioned it before.”
“You could have broken into my place and raided my cupboards.”
I set the bag of pre-popped, flavoured popcorn between us and scoff. “Is that what you were hoping I’d do?”
“Can’t blame a girl for dreaming.”
“You have interesting dreams, then.”
“You have no idea,” she murmurs, her exhale heavy.
My pulse skips. “No, I suppose I don’t.”
It’s dead silent. The movie is still paused on the opening scene, and neither of us has made any move to reach for the remote resting beside my glass. I struggle to keep my eyes ahead of me instead of on the woman sitting so close I can smell her perfume.
My fingers tingle at the simple idea of touching her, let alone doing it in a way I haven’t dared try before.
Images flash in my mind of the video she recorded for me, but unlike the guilt that usually follows when I think about it, I only ache for her.
I spread my legs wider in an attempt to create some room in my jeans.
My cock swells and throbs ten times worse when my knee knocks hers.
“I love scary movies,” she admits so softly I almost don’t understand her. “And lemonade, which I also doubt you knew.”
I clear my throat and say the first thing that comes to mind. “It’s pink.”
Unable to refuse myself any longer, I turn my head, needing to see her.
The lemonade isn’t the only thing pink. Everywhere I look, she’s bright and colourful and absolutely everything I’m not.
Her pink jeans and orange top stand out against the black couch and the boring beige walls surrounding us.
It’s as disconcerting as it is . . . beautiful.
“And that made you think I’d like it?”
“Yes.”
Her following smile is possibly the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen. It makes her eyes crinkle at the corners and the muscles in her cheeks pull high. Wonder floods through me.
“I like that you think that more than I like the lemonade.”
“You made Evie happy earlier with whatever it is you did today. It’s nice seeing her look like that,” I say, trying to steer the conversation into something less terrifying.
“It was nothing. Really, she was helping me out.”
“How so?”
She stares a bit harder at me. “How was she helping me out?”
“Yes,” I confirm.
Brielle pulls her legs up beneath her and digs her elbow into the back of the couch as she props her head up. She taps her fingers against her cheek.
“I’ve been trying to perfect that piece for a while now. Weeks, really. Seeing it on a real person instead of the mannequins in my apartment was exactly what I needed. Now, I know what needs tweaking. It’s still far from finished,” she explains.
“And you do this often?”
“It’s my job, actually.”
“Wesley hasn’t mentioned that.”
“I’m not surprised. I started my own clothing brand, but it’s been complicated, to say the least, to get it off the ground.
I’ve obviously never run a business before, so I’ve done everything backwards.
I’m trying to focus on the designs first for now instead of jumping headfirst into the other parts of it.
Wes thinks I should get a studio space and make a real thing of it already, and I haven’t had the guts to tell him that I’m far from ready for that. ”
I nod, absorbing every word. “What’s the name of your company?”
“Why? You gonna search me up after I leave?” she teases.
Yes. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”
“Soft Body.” She says it so proudly, like even though she’s clearly still getting her ducks in a row, she’s aware the path she’s on is the right one. “I promise there isn’t anything interesting to find just yet. Give me a few years at least before you pass judgment.”
“There isn’t anything to judge, Brielle. You’re already miles ahead of most people double your age.”
She presses her lips together as her eyes find the wall behind me. “That’s nice to say.”
“That wasn’t my intention. Honesty was.”
Her laugh is stuttered, almost forced. “I’m going to need you to stop that.”
Something that feels too close to protectiveness takes over as I reach for her hand. It’s so fucking careless and crosses every line I’ve forced myself to draw. Still, I ignore her wide eyes and grab the remote, turning the movie on and forcing our conversation to end.
Her fingers twitch a moment before she slips them between mine and squeezes, anchoring not only herself but me as well. She can’t know the effect she’s having on me, and for now, I’m grateful for that.
Because as she returns her focus to the movie and sits back into my couch, I stare at her with a desperation that I can’t have her witnessing yet but am too weak to hide.