Page 42 of Riding the Pine

“I need to say something. And I need you to listen and maybe let me finish before you say anything back, okay?”

My palms are sweaty, legs trembling, and I may vomit. I don’t do this. I don’t put myself in vulnerable positions where people could hurt me. I’m tough, I’m a strong boss bitch, I don’t get googley eyed over a boy, and I certainly don’t say the things that have been bubbling in my mouth for the last few hours.

“Apollo loves Edith.”

His eyebrows tent. “I know.”

“I—wait, what? You know?” I fold my arms, more for protection from the emotions brewing in my body than anything else. “How do you know?” It seems the only people who don’t know that Apollo loves Edith are Apollo and Edith.

My stomach drops. That can’t be the same way for me, could it? Do my brothers know about this thing I have for Scott?

This thing. Ha. This really weird, inconvenient, warm and fuzzything.

Scott chuckles at my indignance. “It’s easy when you know what to look for.” He shrugs, speaking softly.

Is that why it took me so long to notice? Because I didn’t know I loved Scott, or what love looked like until I figured my own shit out? Fuck, this is a lot to unpack that I hadn’t planned for.

“Bright Eyes?” He draws my attention up to his handsome face but his eyes glisten with concern. “You look like you’re going to puke, are you okay?”

I nod, he’s not wrong about the puke but if I talk really fast, I can get the words out before the vomit hits. The vomit’s only hitting because of the nature of the talk. At least I think so.

“Okay, well I think it’s clear why I had no idea he loved her. For always?” It’s bugging me I had no idea my brother was in so deep.

Scott nods. “At least since I met him but probably beyond that.”

That makes sense but still rankles me that I didn’t see it.

I stare at his face, his crooked smile, his bright and expressive eyes, and the scars on his face you can only see if you’re up close. Hockey player scars. How many of his teeth are fake?

He’s waiting patiently for me to talk to him, but I can’t pull myself from the staring for a long time. “How many teeth are fake?”

He snorts. “I’m a defenseman, Bright Eyes. The better question would be how many are real?”

There’s no way around it, no way to lead up to it, no way to beat about the bush, and if I don’t tell him right this very second that I have feelings for him, there’s every chance he could get hit by a drunk driver tomorrow, and he’d never know.

“I… Scott.” Fuck, this is harder than anything I’ve ever done in my life, and fucking hell I’ve done a lot of things. Sucking in a slow breath, I wipe my palms on my thighs before trying to recenter.

“I think I’m in love with you.”

CHAPTER 18

Scott

There’s a ringing in my ears preventing me from actually hearing anything now that her words start sinking into my brain.

She asked me to stay quiet, so I’m going to let her finish. But if I heard what I think I just heard, she’s going to need to say it one more time. Mostly for me to actually believe that she really said what I think she just said.

“When we first met, I had a crush on you, which I think you know.” She gestures her hand in my direction. “Then you blew me off in the car that one time.” Her face turns so red it’s actually fucking adorable, she’s been vulnerable with me before, but not about herself, not about how she feels, and certainly not about me.

I open my mouth to say that my rejecting her in the car when we almost kissed was for a reason but her eyes narrow, so I shut the fuck up.

“I know it was for a good reason at the time, I’m not saying it’s not. But I just…” She rakes her hands through her hair even though it’s tied up and gets her fingers jammed. She looks truly distraught.

“Apollo could have died.” The words get stuck, fragmented as emotion captures her body. We’re barely six feet into her apartment, we aren’t even really into her living area, and she’s casually dropping bombs about her emotions.

Well, it’s anything but casual, stress and anxiety and grief are holding her body prisoner, the way she’s standing, how she’s holding her body, the emotions etched on her face, the way she can’t truly stand still. It all screams distress, and all I want to do is pull her into my lap and hold her till it passes, but she needs to get this out, and the least I can do is listen to her.

“He could havediedScottie.” She tries again, but this time her eyes well with big, fat tears that drop down her cheeks. She presses her chest, like the pain of potentially losing her brother is so overwhelming to her that her body hurts.

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