Brynne
W hen things got hard, I ran away.
That was my M.O. It always had been, and seeing as I was twenty-five, I didn’t think that would change anytime soon. I stuck my head in the sand and pretended like I was safe—I did it as a kid when my parents and Mason argued. I did it as a young adult when they finally broke ties.
And I did it last week when Theo and I got too close to crossing a line neither of us could come back from.
Which has led me here—to hiding in my house on trivia night, pretending like I didn’t feel well.
It wasn’t a total lie.
I didn’t feel well, but not because I was sick or had some other ailment. It was the anxiety of facing Theo that made me want to puke.
That almost-kiss was the only thing I could think about. It took up my mind day and night—last night, I even dreamed about it. Only, it didn’t end in a disruption. It ended with him bending me over his desk and fucking me silly.
The microwave beeped, yanking me out of that fantasy, and I pulled the meatballs from it. Chopping them in half to cool, I grabbed a few blueberries from the fridge and set them on the plate.
Meatball-The-Raccoon had a new friend.
I rounded the corner, heading for the back deck, plate in hand. Stepping outside, the humid air coated my skin, crawling over it like the last whisper of the night. The moon was high, full, and bright, shining down on me like a spotlight.
The same moon I’d stared at as a child, wondering if somewhere out there my soulmate was staring at it too.
If they existed. If they were ever coming to get me.
To find me.
Save me.
I sank onto the polished wooden steps and wrapped my arms around my bent legs, my oversized sweatshirt hanging off my shoulders.
Resting my chin on my knees, I watched as Meatball and his companion ate their late-night snack.
Their little hands grasping the food, their beady eyes on each other like I wasn’t even there.
I knew that feeling—I felt that with Theo.
I wondered what he thought when he finally left his office and found that I’d gone home. He’d texted me, messaged me on Pulse, even tried calling me one night. But I couldn’t bring myself to answer. To pretend like I wasn’t spiraling.
Spiraling because of him, because of Sean, because of Trinity.
Trin was my best friend, and other than Mason, she was the most important person in my life. I’d always thought I was a girl’s girl, that I’d put women over any man.
But Theo challenged that.
He balled my beliefs up, and tossed them aside—and the thing was, I let him do it. I followed him down a path I knew was a mistake. Down a road that only ended in heartbreak.
His or mine. It didn’t matter because pain was inevitably coming.
A fucked up part of me didn’t care, though. For once in my life, I wanted to do something reckless. Something selfish.
I wanted to take a terrifying leap—even though I was unsure if there was a safety net at the bottom to catch me. The unknown was thrilling in a way I’d never experienced before.
Everything in my life had felt so perfect —never upset anyone, keep the peace, make sure Mason was the loud one. No one ever needed to worry about me—I was fine .
But this one time, I wanted to do something different. I wanted to throw caution to the wind and see what would happen.
The gate rattled, pulling my attention, and my spine snapped straight. For a moment, I sat, staring at the darkness, at the place I knew my gate was but couldn’t see in the night. At first, the raccoons didn’t react, so I stayed calm.
It was the wind. My imagination.
That was what I told myself.
But then it rattled again, a bit more forcefully, and the raccoons stopped their munching. Their little heads turned toward the gate, and the hair on my arms stood erect.
My knees wobbled as I silently got to my feet, gaze locked on the potential threat.
Go inside?
That was the logical thing to do.
But whatever was going through my mind wasn’t logical. Because I stepped forward, off the stairs leading into the yard. The grass crunched with every tentative step. Every hesitation ricocheted through my body, bouncing off the veins and blood, sending a wake of careless excitement in its path.
Go inside . My mind screamed the words at me, over and over, as if I was begging myself. Of course, I didn’t listen. When did I ever?
I rested my palm on the handle of the gate and held my breath as the person on the other side jostled it once more.
In one fluid, unstoppable motion, I swung the gate open.
First, it was a chest. Broad and warm, and smelled like sandalwood—it smelled like safety, and warmth, and of something I desperately wanted to indulge in.
My gaze traveled up the strong column of his throat, over his jaw coated in a thick, short beard—something so unlike himself, but somehow perfectly fit him—over his sharp nose, high cheekbones, and settled on blue eyes—icy, bright, warm.
In complete opposition to itself—but that was who Theo Caldwell was.
A walking contradiction.
He said nothing. Neither of us did.
We just stared, eyes wide and disbelieving. The only sounds were his breathing and mine, and the raccoons scurrying along the border of the yard, looking for an escape or hiding place.
Inside, in my chest, I felt the same way.
I needed to hide. To run away.
To leave this man standing at my gate, staring at me like I was the only person in the entire world he was desperate to see.
This look—the one he was currently burning into my soul—was the look I’d dreamed about as a lost little girl. I’d longed for the moment a man looked at me like I was important.
Like I was worth something.
Worth saving.
“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice coming out breathy.
His lips parted, and I stared at them. At the way he dragged his tongue along the bottom one, the flash of white teeth behind them. I stared . And I longed.
And I waited.
I waited for them to move, for poetic, romantic words to spill from them.
But nothing happened.
He didn’t speak. He didn’t make a sound.
I didn’t know if he was even breathing.
And his silence was somehow worse than anything he could ever say.
“What are you doing here?” I asked again, louder. I didn’t know if I wanted him to leave, or come inside, or stay right where he was and kiss me like he meant it.
Kiss me recklessly. Carelessly . With all the passion and pent up horny energy I knew he harbored inside him.
I dug the heels of my bare feet into the earth, making my body stay still, to stop trembling.
“I was in the neighborhood,” he rasped.
“No, you weren’t.” I wrapped my arms around myself, fingers playing with a loose thread on my sweatshirt. “We live on opposite ends of town, and The Taphouse is a ten minute drive away. Unless you were here to see the trees, you have no reason to be in my neighborhood.”
In my backyard.
A thick forest sat behind my house, the ocean on the other side of town. I was tucked away in a quiet hollow, away from everyone else. Only a few others lived on this street. It was a new division, new houses— the expansion of Cedar Ridge , they called it.
He rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish grin taking over his face. Under the moonlight, I could see a light pink blush fill his cheeks, and it made my heart gallop.
“I wanted to see you,” he said quietly. Sincerely .
My throat went dry, my palms slick as I curled my fingers into them. They trembled and shook, aching to reach for him. To drag him close.
To kiss him.
“You’ve been avoiding me.” It wasn’t an accusation—it was a fact. But his voice was tender. Gentle in a way I’d never heard from him before.
But it was more than that—it was vulnerable.
Like I was talking to his inner child, the little boy still living inside him who was terrified of rejection. And when I looked into his eyes, all I saw was that fear reflected back to me.
I didn’t know what to say. How to explain that I was terrified of what almost happened, but how badly I wanted it to happen. It didn’t make sense. I didn’t make sense.
“I—I know.”
He tilted his head to the side, dark hair spilling across his forehead. “You…know?” A smirk tugged at the corner of his full mouth. “Wanna explain why?”
“Not really.” This time, he really did smile. It was broad and bright, the moonlight glinting off his white teeth. “I mean—there's nothing to explain, you know? I’ve just been busy. Not avoiding.”
“Right.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his pants. “You left the other night before I could talk to you about?—”
“We don’t need to talk about it,” I squeaked.
Blue eyes narrowed. “You’re acting weird.”
“I am not.”
He huffed out a laugh, his head falling forward. “Alright, Red. You’re acting totally normal. Not like you’re terrified of me or anything.”
“I mean, you are a man standing in my yard in the middle of the night. I’d say that warrants some fear, don’t you?”
“Sure,” he agreed. “But be scared of other men, not me.” He stepped closer, his shoes dragging along the damp grass. “You wanna know what I think?”
I flicked my gaze between his. “What?” I whispered.
“I think you’re scared you might let yourself finish what we started the other night. I think you’re scared that once we start, we won’t stop.”
I shook my head, but his words rang true. They were a near mirror of my own thoughts.
“We didn’t start anything,” I lied. And there was that grin again—infuriatingly hot. Ridiculously perfect. “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” He moved even closer, the warmth of his body falling off him and soaking into mine.
“Smiling.”
He licked his lips before sucking his bottom one between his teeth. “Alright, Red,” he murmured. “I’ll stop smiling if you stop looking at me like you want to eat me alive.”
“Theo,” I breathed. “This is a bad idea.”
“What’s a bad idea, Red? We haven’t done anything.”
But the unsaid word hung between us.
Yet .
We hadn’t done anything… yet .
But we would.
We both knew it was true, and that it was only a matter of time.
That reckless feeling welled up inside me again. It forced me to move closer to him, to rest my hand on his stomach, feeling his abs flex under my fingertips.
“It’s a bad idea,” I repeated, and he nodded, eyes on mine.
“Whatever you say.”
His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly. My heart hammered against my sternum, my stomach flipping like an acrobat.
Closer.
Closer.
He lowered his head to mine, and the tips of our noses brushed against each other. “You never told me to stop the other night,” he whispered so quietly, I had to strain to hear him. “Are you going to tell me to tonight?”
I hesitated, my fingers curling around his shirt. I didn’t know—yes, no.
Yes.
No .
“We shouldn’t,” I said again.
“That’s not an answer,” he muttered. His nose brushed mine once more, and my eyes fluttered shut. “Don’t do that.”
“What?”
“Open your eyes, baby. I want to see you when you say yes.”
I pulled my eyelids apart. His pupils were blown, nearly all of his iris gone.
“There you are,” he whispered. “There’s my girl.”
My heart leapt into my throat. My lungs closed.
“Theo—”
“Fuck, I love the way you say my name.” His hand lifted, fingers tangling in the messy red strands of my hair. “Say it again.”
“ Theo .”
Closer.
His breath ghosted over my lips—sweet, minty, an undercurrent of whiskey. My body swayed, my knees trembled, my fingers curled tighter in the fabric of his shirt.
“I’m going to kiss you now, Red,” he said. “And if you hate it, I’ll never do it again.” A breath passed. “Alright?”
“Alright.”
He let out a breathy chuckle as he licked his lips again.
“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, almost like he hadn’t meant to.
Before I could react, before I could say anything, his lips were on mine.
Tentative at first, then he grew more intense. More demanding.
His other hand joined his first in my hair, and he held me tightly, his tongue tracing the seam of my lips as if asking for permission. I opened for him immediately.
He swept inside like he belonged there, like he’d done it a million times before.
Kissing Theo Caldwell was unlike anything I could’ve ever imagined.
It was possessive, and hot, and desperate. There was no mistaking who was in charge—he commanded the kiss, leading me from one movement to the next like a waltz we’d perfected.
And I fell into him, fell into the rhythm of his lips. His movements.
His arm dropped and wrapped around my waist. He yanked me closer to him, a gasp hitching my breath as his hard body pressed against mine. Slowly, his hand moved lower, cupping my ass in this dominating, possessive way that made my heart melt and pussy clench.
I whimpered into his mouth, nearly combusting at the sound of an approving growl rumbling from his chest. He worked his hand, groping and squeezing, laying claim to me in that one touch. One hold.
One kiss.
All too soon, he pulled away.
We were panting, almost completely breathless. He stared at me, and I stared back.
It was too much, but somehow, impossibly, not enough.
“Well?” he breathed, chest heaving, hand still on my ass.
My eyes flicked between his, a mix of hope and lust burning bright.
“Don’t stop,” was all I said.
And he didn’t.