CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Lumberjack Hottie Goes Viral
I check the comments on Belle and my first video. We hit a million views in under an hour. That’s… only happened once before.
Belle replies immediately. I knew this collab would be worth it for both of us.
I scroll through the comments. Most are glowing.
People love influencer collabs, especially when the creators seem like total opposites on the surface.
Belle is all baking, sewing, deep frying, and fashion.
I’m more… well, lifestyle. Hair, nails, clothes, makeup.
It’s not exactly groundbreaking. But we overlap just enough to keep things interesting.
Maybe that’s why people are eating this up. The comments are overwhelmingly positive.
Love this dynamic!
Never thought I’d see the day my two fave influencers collided. I LOVE it.
The duo we never knew we needed.
I click out of the video and take a long breath. A few weeks ago, I’d be obsessively checking every like and comment like my life depended on it. But it’s just a video. Two women chatting about makeup, style, and fried southern food.
Still, I need to post something for tomorrow. So I sit down and flip on the camera.
The ring light thrums faintly as I adjust the tripod, the glow washing my face in perfect, fake daylight. It’s muscle memory now—smile, frame, and sell. But somewhere under the hum of filters and followers, I can feel the quiet tug of a different life waiting outside the shot.
"Today, I’m hiking with Lumberjack Hottie, but first hair."
I walk through my go-to messy bun tutorial like it’s some ancient beauty secret instead of the easiest trick in the book. I finish it with a shrug.
"You’ve probably seen a thousand versions of this, but I know what you’re really here for."
I end the video, knowing full well there’ll be shirtless Brooks footage incoming. He said I could film him whenever I want, and who am I to deny the people what they want?
"You ready?" Brooks pops his head into my room.
I swivel in the chair and grin. "Yeah."
"We filming today?" he asks, already knowing the answer.
I laugh. "Only if my favorite Lumberjack Hottie is up for it."
Without hesitation, he pulls his shirt off. "Ready."
"We really should make you your own account," I joke.
Brooks flashes a smug grin and lifts his phone. "Already beat you to it, Ellie."
I gasp as he holds it out. @LumberjackHottie has nearly 100,000 followers.
"Maybe being an influencer is in your future, after all," I tease, nudging him with my foot.
"Maybe I’ll just have to go to LA with you and try it out for myself," he shoots back, too casually.
I pause, my smile faltering. "Really?"
Brooks shrugs, all nonchalance. "I don’t know. Haven’t given it much thought, honestly."
But I know that’s not true.
My throat goes dry, the coffee suddenly sharp on my tongue.
He’s lying. Not to be deceptive, but to protect something. Or someone. Me, maybe.
And then it hits me like a stone to the chest.
Brooks is serious about me.
This isn’t just summer flirting or some small-town reconnection story. He wouldn’t even joke about leaving this place—his roots, his routines, the life he’s built here—unless he meant it.
Oh God. He’s thinking about a future. With me.
My pulse stammers. He wouldn’t joke about uprooting his life unless he meant it. Unless I meant something to him. Unless… oh god. What if he really does love me? What if this is real?
Before I can untangle the knots forming in my stomach, he shifts gears. Too smoothly.
"We should get that hike started if we want to meet up with Jasper and Wren for coffee this afternoon," he says, already turning toward the hallway.
"Coffee," I echo, snapping my fingers like I hadn’t just mentally spiraled. "Right."
We hike.
He lets me take thirst trap videos—for both our accounts—and I lose myself in laughter, in how easy it is to be with him. But when we reach the top of the ridge, where the sky stretches endlessly and the air smells like pine and possibility, he turns to me and kisses me.
And I melt into it.
Into him.
Into the way his tongue finds mine, slow and sure.
Into the way his hand finds the back of my neck, fingers stroking gently like I’m something he’s afraid to break.
Into the weight of his body pressing against mine, the heat of him, the way the hard outline in his shorts digs into my stomach and makes my brain fuzz at the edges.
Brooks is hot. He’s kind. He’s patient. He knows how to hold a moment like it matters.
But he’s also Brooks.
Jasper’s best friend. The guy I never once thought I’d fall for. The guy who’s starting to feel like home when I’m not even sure where home is anymore.
Even if this goes somewhere… where does it go? Do I stay? Does he follow? And if one of us bends… what happens when it breaks?
***
I watch as Wren leans into Jasper, her smile soft and tentative as she looks up at him. There’s a gentle hush to the moment, like the world around them has gone still just long enough for her to be brave.
"She likes him," I murmur to Brooks as we grab our coffees from the counter.
He follows my gaze and nods, a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yeah. What’s not to like?"
I glance over at him, amused. "Jasper’s biggest fan, huh?"
Brooks sips from his cup before answering, his voice low and careful. "Did you know that his whole life—whole life—all Jasper’s ever wanted is to be a husband and a father?"
Somehow, in all the years of living in the room next to his, I missed the most important piece of him.
I blink fast. "Really?"
The word slips out softer than I expect, my thoughts catching up too slowly.
I’ve lived under the same roof as Jasper.
Shared cereal boxes and bike rides and whispered arguments through bedroom walls.
But I didn’t know this. I didn’t know that at the center of his heart sat something so… beautifully simple.
A family.
Not fame. Not a career. Not escape.
Love. Stability. A home.
What does that say about me? That I didn’t know my own brother's dream?
Before I can press further, Brooks turns and calls over his shoulder, "Come on, Ellie."
I narrow my eyes and follow, still stunned. He just casually lobs an emotional grenade into my lap and walks away like he didn’t just change the entire lens I see my brother through.
He’s infuriating. Absolutely insufferable.
And yet—somehow—he sees everything.
I slide into the seat across from Wren just as Brooks drops into the chair beside me.
His thigh brushes mine under the table—warm and steady—but we don’t move.
We don’t talk about it. We don’t even look at each other.
There’s comfort in the contact, sure, but neither of us has been brave enough to tell Jasper what’s happening between us.
And maybe that’s for the best. If—or when—I leave, the less he knows, the easier it’ll be to pretend this never happened.
"So," Jasper says, clearing his throat, "you remember my sister, Elowen, right?"
Wren lifts her gaze to me, and her russet curls slip forward over one shoulder.
She tucks them behind her ear with a graceful flick of her fingers.
Her black-rimmed glasses perch delicately on the bridge of her nose, and a constellation of freckles dapple her cheeks.
She’s effortlessly beautiful, and the kind of woman who probably doesn’t even realize it.
But it’s not her looks that hold attention.
It’s the quiet, observant way she watches Jasper. Like he’s the only person in the room.
"How long are you in town for?" Brooks asks, his tone easy, but I feel the subtle shift in him beside me.
Wren offers a shy smile. "Just a few days. I wish I could stay longer, but—"
"Top-secret classified information," Jasper interrupts with a teasing waggle of his eyebrows.
Wren laughs softly and shakes her head, but says nothing more. Either she really can’t say, or she doesn’t want to. But I instantly clock her fingers tightening around her drink.
I nod politely, offering a small smile before taking a slow sip of my iced vanilla latte.
It’s sweeter than I remember. Too sweet, maybe.
Or maybe it’s just that everything around me is starting to feel more complicated than it used to be.
Wren is here for a few days. I’ve been here for weeks. And the clock is ticking on all of us.
We make small talk, fill Wren in on Dad’s recovery, swap high school stories that make us groan and laugh, and then—predictably—Jasper finds an excuse to leave early. Something about a project he forgot he needed to help Wren with. Right.
Brooks smirks the moment they disappear around the corner.
"What?" I whisper, elbowing him gently.
"Nothing," he says, trying—and failing—to suppress a grin as we stand. "You like her?" he asks.
"I do," I admit, my eyes following the door they just walked through. "She seems… smitten."
"Jasper, too," Brooks murmurs.
There’s a quiet stretch between us, and then I look over at him. "Tell me something."
"What?" he replies, his gaze softening as he shifts a little closer and tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear.
"Were you serious? About coming to California?" My voice is barely above a whisper now, but it feels impossibly loud in the space between us.
Brooks holds my gaze. I expect an answer. I want an answer. But instead, he leans in and kisses me, slow and sure, like the truth is hidden somewhere in the way our lips fit.
And maybe it is.
I melt into him, letting the weight of all my questions dissolve for just a moment.
Until someone clears their throat.
We break apart, and I turn.
Holden.
He stands there, hands in his pockets, like he’s been standing there long enough to witness more than he should’ve.
Brooks straightens beside me.
"Holden," I say, trying to sound neutral. I’m not sure I succeed.
He nods once, his expression indecipherable. "Well. That answers a few things."
"Can we help you?" Brooks asks, his voice calm but edged with smug satisfaction.
Holden ignores him. "Can I talk to you for a moment?" he says to me, motioning toward the door. "Outside?"
I hesitate. There’s nothing I want to say to Holden. But there’s something in his eyes—something off—that makes me curious. Maybe even cautious.
"Um…" I stall, glancing at Brooks. Then, gently, I touch his cheek and press a quick kiss to his lips. "I’ll be right back."
Outside, the late afternoon heat wraps around me like a too-warm blanket. Humid. Suffocating. Everything feels heavier out here. I wipe my palms on my shorts and face him.
"What’s going on, Holden?"
He shifts his weight. "I was fired."
I inhale sharply. "Okay?"
“They said I’m a liability. Can you believe that?" His voice is sharp with indignation, but beneath it, there’s a note of desperation he’s trying to hide.
I narrow my eyes. "And why are you telling me this?"
"I’m going to sue the hospital," he says, straightening. "And I need you to be a witness. To back me up."
A breath of disbelief escapes my mouth before I can stop it. I cross my arms. "Yeah, that’s not going to happen."
"What?" His tone sharpens. "Why not?"
For half a second, the old reflex kicks in. To smooth it over. To apologize for something that isn’t mine. But the feeling burns out quick.
"Because I don’t owe you anything, Holden. And I’m not going to lie for you."
His jaw clenches. "You don’t even know the whole story."
"You’re right. I don’t," I say. "But I know enough to know I don’t want to be part of it."
His eyes flick to the diner window, where I’m sure Brooks is still sitting, waiting.
"You’re not seriously letting that guy cloud your judgment, are you?" Holden scoffs, annoyance laced through every word.
I meet his gaze without flinching. "This has nothing to do with Brooks. I’m just not going to help you sue a hospital that’s saved my dad’s life."
His mouth opens like he wants to argue, but there’s nothing left for him to say. Not to me. Not anymore.
When I walk back into the coffee shop, Brooks is waiting with a blasé expression, like he hadn’t spent the last five minutes pretending not to care.
"What did he want?" he asks, voice casual, but I see the flicker of tension in his jaw.
Holden was the past. This? This thing with Brooks? It might be terrifying. But it’s real.
And I’m done wasting energy on anything less.
"No idea," I murmur as I slide into his lap and wrap my arms around his shoulders, grounding myself in the only place that’s made sense lately. Him.