Page 28 of Shades of You

His eyes lit up. “I’m already working on it. It’s going to be the best crib I’ve ever made.”

“To fatherhood.” I raised my beer to the center of the table, and we toasted.

Then Gabe’s proud smile faded, and I recognized another subject change coming. “Evan’s going to join us at Stingrays practice,” he dropped mildly, almost too casual.

I blinked, my heart stuttering as my glass slammed down on the table. “He’s what?”

Gabe nodded. “You heard me. He changed his mind and agreed to join us—hitting and playing first base so he doesn’t have to use his leg too much. No pitching. I think it’s good for him. You know, part of the new leaf he’s turning over.”

“Right.” My response was automatic, my mind still grappling with the image of Evan stepping onto the field. Where he’d been poised to start his career. Before I ended it for him.

“Are you okay with that?” Gabe prodded, studying me closely.

“Of course,” I lied smoothly, now understanding why Gabe had suggested this meeting. Evan finding his way back to something he loved shouldn’t be complicated, except that when it came to my relationship with my brother, nothing was simple. But hell would freeze over before I stood in his way.

“Good.” Gabe nodded, satisfied, before taking a swig of his beer. “It’ll be good for the team, too.Holy shit. The other teams are going todiewhen they hear Evan’s playing again. Even if he’s not pitching.” He burst into laughter.

“Definitely.” The weight of Gabe’s news anchored me in a moment of unexpected clarity. Evan joining us wasn’t just another event on the calendar. It was a sliver of hope cutting through years of animosity and silence between us.

“Thanks, man,” I said, my voice rough. “For telling me about Evan. That’s… It means more than you know.”

Gabe nodded, his eyes showing he understood the storms that churned beneath my surface. After splitting the bill, we rose and headed out. The thought of Evan at practice, of mending fences long left in disrepair, sparked something akin to hope in the hollows of my chest.

I slid behind the wheel of my Range Rover. Now that I was headed home, my mind drifted back to Brenna. Her lips—soft, insistent—had branded themselves onto mine, leaving a mark that smoldered even now.

A good man would let her go, not keep her tangled in a web weaved from my own darkness. The truth clawed at me—Brenna was my north star, but my life was a battleground of scars and shadows. How could I drag her into that?

If Brenna chose to return to her house, I wouldn’t stop her. Knox was a ghost, and without evidence of his threat, what claim did I have? My role was to protect her, even if that meant from myself.

When I arrived at my building, my hand hesitated above the alarm keypad. I clenched it closed as visons of this morning ran through my mind for the millionth time. Tapping in the code would be like a signal flare to my senses, a prelude to the reckoning that awaited me on the other side of the door.

I was in trouble.

I wanted her. God, how I wanted her. To take her tobed, to explore every willowy curve. But this wasn’t about what I wanted. This was about what was right for Brenna, and I was acutely aware that I didn’t make the cut. It was time to man up and be strong. I was more than my raging libido and somehow, someway, I needed to find the strength to get hold of myself and pull back from the edge of this cliff. Before it was too late.

I typed in the code and entered.

Chapter Thirteen

Brenna

My knife slicedthrough the bell pepper with a satisfying crunch, and I forced myself to focus on the rhythm of chopping vegetables—anything to keep my mind from spiraling back to that kiss. My hands moved mechanically, dicing carrots next while the baked ziti bubbled in the oven and filled Hunter’s kitchen with a rich, comforting aroma.

I hadn’t heard from him all day. Since this morning, when everything between us had shifted in one electrifying, shattering moment that had left me breathless and vulnerable.

And confused.

After pulling myself off the floor, I’d managed to dress for work—a miracle considering my knees could well have been replaced with jelly. A glance in the mirror confirmed that my lips were swollen and sore. It was the best kiss I’d ever had. Garrett was downstairs as usual, and he spent the day watching from afar.

The sign above the shop read Bookstore in Paradise, and never had the name felt more ironic. Paradise was far from where my head spun. Customers came and went, their voices muffled as if underwater, while I moved between shelves and counters. I restocked books I didn’t see, spoke words I hardly heard, all while my skin thrummed with the memory of how Hunter’s granite shoulders had felt under my touch.

The only thing that pierced the fog of my desire was a phone call to Eli, asking to borrow some dive gear. All while trying to sound casual, to deny that I was grasping at a way to keep Hunter in my life. And the idea of diving, of submerging in the clear depths of the ocean with him, seemed appealing—therapeutic, even. And of course, Eli was happy to loan me the equipment. Now all I had to do was put my plan together.

The oven timer’s shrill ring yanked me back into the moment. I blinked a few times, grounding myself in Hunter’s kitchen with its warm, herb-scented air. My fingers absentmindedly traced the tender spot on my bottom lip where it had bruised against my teeth, the evidence left from a kiss I still couldn’t believe the intensity of.

Making dinner helped distract me from wondering which Hunter would walk through the front door. Would it be the bookish friend, the man who had sent my world reeling with one kiss, or the unreadable, walled creature who warned me not to get involved with him?

Pulling oven mitts over my hands, I shook off the thoughts and removed the pasta. The baked ziti sat bubbling on the stovetop when I heard the front door open. Tensing, I turned toward the sound as my heart took off at adead run.

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