26. Jami #2
There’s a pause. “Okay. We’ll talk later.”
“Yeah. Later.”
I end the call and toss my phone onto the coffee table, harder than necessary.
The kettle shrieks from the kitchen, and I jump slightly, my nerves already frayed.
I turn it off, drop a tea bag into a mug, and pour the steaming water over it.
I stand there stirring, watching the water darken, the string winding lazily around the spoon.
My thoughts spiral just as slowly, just as relentlessly until footsteps sound behind me. I turn, and the second Brody sees my face, his expression shifts—eyes narrowing, concern cutting through whatever he’d been about to say.
“Everything okay?” he asks.
I nod and try for casual, even though it feels like my face might crack under the effort.
“Yeah. Did you get what you needed from your bedroom?”
He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he closes the distance between us, his eyes brimming with concern like he knows I’m hiding something.
“Jami.”
The second his arms come around me, everything I’ve been holding in slips loose. I press my face into his chest, breathing him in, as I work to steady myself in the strong beat of his heart.
“He’s going to be okay,” he murmurs.
“I know,” I whisper. I do know. Jaxon is going to heal. He’s going to walk out of this.
He pulls back just enough to look at me, his brow furrowing. “Then what is it?” His thumb brushes my cheek. “You look like you just lost your best friend.”
I snort out a humorless laugh. “Speaking of best friends… I just called Lauren.”
His arms tighten slightly, encouraging me to keep going. “She was out with friends. And her new boyfriend. She sounded really happy.” I swallow. “But we didn’t really get to talk.”
He nods slowly, like he understands exactly what I’m not saying. That hollow feeling. That sense of being left behind, forgotten while everyone else keeps moving forward. Building lives. Making plans. Knowing where they belong.
“I…” My voice wobbles and I hate it. “I don’t think I have anything to go back to.”
He lifts a hand and gently tucks my hair behind my ear.
He opens his mouth, then closes it again. His brow furrows as if he’s carefully selecting his next words. “You’re still getting on your feet,” he says gently.
My throat tightens.
Really, Jami. Did you expect him to ask you to stay forever?
I look past his shoulder, toward the hallway that leads to the stairs, that leads to my brother’s room. “It’s just—”
“Jaxon,” he says. “I know.”
“It’s good that you’re going to talk to Mr. Cheeseman,” I say, forcing the words out. “Get me into my own apartment.”
If it’s good, why does it feel like I’m being nudged toward the door? Like I’m losing my place here too? “Jaxon needs his bed, right,” I murmur, though it comes out sounding more like a question than a statement.
He doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. We both know why I can’t stay under this roof—not just because Jaxon needs his space, but because of what we’ve been doing in the shadows. Because secrets don’t survive proximity forever.
And I mean…it’s not like he wants me gone so he can move Elise in.
Right? When it comes right down to it, Elise has every right to chase after him again.
She doesn’t know a thing about us. Sure, Devon picked up on it right away, and only smirked when we denied it.
But no one here in town is aware of anything, except maybe…
Mr. Cheeseman, and he’s not really the gossipy type, otherwise everyone would know about the little toy I bought at the department store.
Brody pulls me back against him, and I rest my cheek over his heart, the strength of it is steady beneath my ear. He kisses the top of my head, his hands warm and familiar on my back. If I could, I’d stay just like this forever.
“Breathe, Little Birdie,” he murmurs.
Then, effortlessly, he lifts me and sets me on the counter. My breath catches as he steps between my legs, his body close.
As I revel in the comfort and familiarity of it, I glance past his shoulder again. “This is dangerous.”
“He’s on crutches. We’ll hear him coming,” he whispers.
“I can’t.” I suck in a breath, but it feels like my lungs won’t cooperate. “I can’t keep lying to him. Especially now that I’m staying longer. And if we’re going to keep doing this…”
I trail off, afraid of finishing the thought, because suddenly it feels like we’re not going to keep doing anything.
Cripes. Am I still doing this? Still searching for a sign? A promise? Some indication that this is more than sex? That if my brother knew it was love—and not just random hookups—he might somehow understand?
Love.
God. I am in so much trouble.
“It’s late,” he says, kissing my forehead. I fight back tears. “We’re all exhausted. We don’t have to make any big decisions tonight.” He hesitates, then adds, “We can sleep on it…in separate beds.”
Everything about the way he says separate beds.
Everything about the fact that he doesn’t ask me to stay.
Everything about how he still isn’t ready to tell Jaxon the truth.
It all settles heavy in my chest, letting me know what I’ve been pretending not to see.
I’ve built this into something it isn’t.
You’re not Elise, I remind myself quickly. You’re just her temporary stand-in.
And temporary things don’t get to ask for more.